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I’ll admit the world game is my least favourite football code. I apprecate its skill, but my craving for contact in sport has kept me from embracing it.
What really matters in sport though is the contest, and the two games I witnessed on early Monday morning – the ones that would decide the English Premier League – were close to being the most enthralling sporting contests I have experienced.
In England, finishing on top of the table is good enough to win the title. There isn’t the extra test of a dramatic finals showdown to prove your worth.
On Monday, however, the EPL had its own version of a grand final: the table topping neighbours Manchester City and Manchester United, separated by goal difference only, fought each other for the title while playing at different grounds, against different opposition.
They were also playing simultaneously, except for a two minute difference in stoppage time. What happened during that period will ensure this championship finale goes down as one of the great sporting occasions.
The inspired commentary, tracking the constant changes in fortune brilliantly, did the occasion justice.
Manchester City only had to win to claim the title but this is a club that, according to one commentator, “has in its DNA a tendency to blow things”. They were at home but up against Queens Park Rangers who were playing for their survival.
City were once the kings when they annihilated United 6-1. Four weeks ago they were dead and buried. A fortnight later they resurrected themselves by again defeating United. Then, when the championship was theirs to win, the supporters witnessed what one caller described as “a capitulation of the highest order!”
With 90 minutes and 33 seconds gone not only were they not going to win, they were going to be toppled 1-2 by a lesser opponent which had only 10 men: “What a day to be a supporter of Manchester City. Where will they hide tonight? Where will they go? Where will they find the moral fibre to get up and go to work in the morning?”
But, unbelievably – or perhaps not considering what had gone on before – they score to equalise: “Four minutes to save themselves! Four minutes to find their crown!”
Meanwhile, Man United’s game against Sunderland had been a relatively straight forward affair. Rooney had scored early and that was that. What really counted were the updates from Etihad Stadium relayed to the United players and Alex Ferguson by the fans.
Rooney’s goal was a double delight as City hadn’t yet scored. A timid confidence set in.
Then City’s first goal brought a “tentative noise” that sent Ferguson’s jaw working even more vigorously on that huge mound of chewing gum.
The extreme pores-and-all close up of the great manager fails to identity a change in his expression but it does reveal that his old mackintosh is actually a new tailored coat.
Ten minutes later the United crowd goes up with the news that QPR has equalised. Cut to Ferguson still chewing.
When QPR goes ahead twenty minutes later, however, Ferguson unclenches his nail bitten fingers to clap, and starts walking about. The title is his again, surely.
One minute into extra time Rooney is winding down the clock in the corner when news of the City equaliser descends upon him. On his third attempt to keep the ball in the corner he makes a mistake and suddenly Sunderland becomes a real danger to United’s title hopes.
They survive but as they shake hands, quietly confident the championship is theirs, the final extraordinary event takes place. Ferguson and the United players and supporters suddenly turn in terror.
The Sunderland fans, who clearly have more in common with Man City than United, have gone up cheering at the news that City have scored again to snatch the game and the title.
Let’s go back to Etihad Stadium for the goal that finally decided it: “Aguero! Staggering! Just staggering! He’s won the league with 90 seconds of stoppage time to play! Drama of the ultimate type! Tears of distress turn to tears of unbridled joy!”
Amen.
I really do have to watch more of this form of football.
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