Still unsure if our glass is half full or half empty

THAT Uncertain Feeling. A fine Manchester band of the early 1990s and also a sentiment we Reds have shared for an unprecedented three Augusts running.

During most of the Fergie era, we have kicked off fully expecting to win the Premiership and put up a good show in Europe: perhaps only August 1995 was the exception to the rule. But ever since Arsenal’s invincible campaign, we haven’t experienced that glad confident morning at the season’s opening.

So you could quite plausibly argue that United are in for a relatively catastrophic season this time — just as you could have done in August 2004 and 2005 — by which I mean failing to finish top four and being embarrassed in Europe. (And, after all, we managed part 2 of that quite easily last year.)

Yet you only need to adjust the red-tinted specs a touch to suggest that, with one or two more signings and some luck on the injury front, we could be in for one last glorious Fergusonian resurrection. The glass half full brigade will point to the impressive 3-0 win over Sevilla, achieved without Wayne Rooney or Michael Carrick.

The season kicks off this weekend, yet the transfer window remains open until the end of the month, and thus we are in limbo-land expectations-wise. We can’t even hazard a guess at an ideal United XI — and not just because Fergie’s tinkering and rotation have become so mystifying, but because all the targets currently being pursued seem so different, with wildly varying implications for team and formation.

As I write, Torres and Adriano are supposedly still up for grabs; Hargreaves is a genuine prospect; Diarra has not closed the door; and there are even mad rumours being circulated by a United exec about a late swoop for Ashley Cole, which I very much hope have been smashed to pieces by the time you read this.

Moreover, there’s at least another six names I could mention — the upshot is that, hand on heart, I have no idea what to expect. Tell me we will finish eighth and I might believe you. Tell me we will win the league and I could go for that too. Tell me we will win the Champions League and, umm … no, I can’t go for that.

A lot of Reds you talk to are nonetheless in a pretty glum mood, worn down by the disappointments and humiliations of the past 18 months and demoralised by the effortless way Chelsea in particular did all their business this summer.

Compared to the clown show Peter Kenyon put on the previous summer, the Peasant Robbers have clearly improved their game.

United, by contrast, have looked borderline pathetic: outbid on some targets, humiliated by others, and ultimately roundly failing to fulfil CEO David Gill’s promise in May that we “would seek to do all our business pre-World Cup”.

Carrick, absurdly overpriced for a player who has so far seemed merely decent, had all the hallmarks of a panic buy, although of course he has nothing but our very best, and slightly desperate, wishes. Given that United have raised a lot of cash and saved wages by offloading John Obi Mikel and Ruud van Nistelrooy plus some fringe players, the e20 million-plus committed to Carrick only goes part-way to proving the PR proclamation that the Glazers will let Fergie spend big.

Indeed, Alex would have to spend at least another e40m now just to match the average net figure the old plc used to let him blow.

Incidentally, the pain of the departure of Ruud was overcome pretty quickly, with even Fergiephobes tending to admit in quiet corners that this may have been the best move for the team overall. Certainly, keeping Ronaldo at the club was widely seen as the more pressing concern.

Now then: only a fool would say for sure that the Ronaldo saga is over. Any player who states repeatedly, as he did in June, that he was keen to do a runner to Iberia is not someone you are going to rely on or build a team around, no matter what blandishments he may come up with now. It’s a good sign, though, that he is considering renting Dwight Yorke’s Alderely Edge house (a more secure property than his current gaff in Woodford) — if he was about to get on his toes, he’d be camped out at the Marriott, checking Teletext flight times daily.

There’s always the Boy Wonder, of course, without whom despair would be endemic; elsewhere we have the return of Scholes and Solskjaer.

Lord knows I would love to be proved wrong, given that these have been my two favourite United players since Eric left, but I cannot see either of them becoming anything like as important to our season as they used to be.

Giggs will doubtless continue to be a curate’s egg, a player you cannot leave out yet one who so often disappears. Saha might yet be a giant if he could walk 10 yards without breaking something; even Alan Smith, bless his socks, could surprise us all and prove that God does indeed love a trier.

Yet overall, I think you detect my sense of underwhelmedness with the current resources. So, as I wrote in the last column of last season, this summer transfer market is one of the most crucial we’ve ever known. And it ain’t over yet. So come back when the fat lady sings, and I’ll ease myself off this fence then, OK?

* Richard Kurt is author of Red Army Years.