I don’t want to criticise after one of our best nights, but...

YOU couldn’t wish for a more stark contrast between a sexy, midweek Champions League encounter, amidst the glamorous Milanese environs of the San Siro and a murky Sunday afternoon mudbath, on the brown field bog of the JJB.

But before siding with Le Prof, in laying all the blame for Sunday’s bore draw on the unsatisfactory circumstances, we might do best to look a little closer to home for culpability.

I find it utterly unfathomable how we’ve ended up challenging for honours, with a squad that doesn’t appear to include the option of a single natural winger within our ranks. Moreover I know not whether Arsène was remiss in his neglect of such a schoolboy strategy, or the likes of Hleb and co were naïve, but it was painful having to endure their frustrating efforts to plough a somewhat impenetrable furrow through the mire, as they remained steadfast to twinkletoes principles, instead of adapting their tactics to suit the conditions.