"Home Front: Liverpool"
K Stand correspondent Clive Hindle attends every home game, and this week welcomes Liverpool with open arms. Well, maybe not...
It’s not the cockney burglars you should be scared of, it’s the wheelie-bin monsters from up the East Lancs Road, that’s what you should be watching out for!
No offence but I thought some scallywag might have his little joke, so I got to Old Trafford early to check the inventory. The Munich Clock was there, the Plaque too. Yes, it’s okay, Sir Matt’s statue hasn’t been lifted. The giro hasn’t arrived, the scallies are still in bed. Phew! I sent Rob off to Lou Macari’s for his chips because he told me we’d never lost when he’s bought them.
A staged mock-up of Diego’s first Anfield goal defused the pre-match tension then it was just fine to be seeing the Irishman back in the Red and him so fired up so he was. Just like a scene from a movie: the gladiator, trying to preserve anonymity, is forced to reveal his identity after disposing of the evil empire’s crack warriors. “I am Maximus Decimus Meridius Keane, Commander of the Army of the North, Captain-General of the Emperor Alexander!” he proclaims. But this wasn’t the usurping emperor’s gladiators, nor was it the Praetorian Guard, this was Hypp and Hen, the Wheelie-Bin Men.
Only it wasn’t. Henchoz was on a frolic of his own so Hyppia wanted to be on his toes too. Nothing else could explain the Finn’s third minute battery of Ruud, unless, perhaps, it was simply nemesis: the ultimate reward for Liverpool’s kitchen sink defending over the years.
The match entered its phoney war phase, the Reds joining the Scousers on ten men as Fabien ordered TV + DVDs for his in-goal area. Nonetheless, United scored again, Silvestre converting after a goalmouth skirmish. Ref Riley, compensating for sending Hypp off, disallowed a fine goal so the contest went into the second half.
Not often do we have the pleasure of United attacking K Stand in the last 45. Great sides make the extra man count so United turned the screw. First a stupendous Giggsy strike was palmed wide. Then another penalty, as trainee surgeon Biscan attempted to amputate Scholes’ leg, established the safety margin. In case Liverpool thought it was safe to go back in the water, on came Becks and Butt, two legendary England heroes.
Becks immediately ‘assisted’ another goal: Ruud, holding up, missed the England Captain’s return pass but Giggs volleyed United 3–0 ahead. Then the Welsh wizard reverse-passed Ole in for number 4 past a statue of Jerzy Dudek.
K Stand’s reaction could be described as moderately pleased. Gap, warbling like a songbird, chorused: “12 more years” ( title quest); “you’re not famous anymore” ( axiomatic); “there’s only one team in Europe” ( true). Dejected opponents countered with, “you’re going to win f***all” ( well not the Worthy, that’s for sure) and a song from Carousel, which the Liverpudlian intelligentsia ( ?) thinks was a gift from an arm emerging from the Mersey ( Arthurian legend).
Later, The Theatre deserted, the bin-wagon clanked round the corner to collect the empty bins; Emperor Alexander had re-assumed charge of the Legions; God was in his heaven. The only tragedy is Rob’s sacrifice: he’ll soon be twenty stone. What will that do for his budding acting career? Still, it’s in a good cause, Rob!
