Always appetising to see Fergie eat his own words

AT this stage last year we were urging everyone to keep calm. It turned out to be sound advice, albeit unheeded.

Ten points from twelve, top of the league after the demolition of Derby, it was the football we’d played that had fans dreaming recklessly of a 19th title.

That certainly won’t be the case this time around, given the shambles in previous weeks, but any time we beat ‘them’ you’re bound to be deafened by war cries.

Regular readers will know how I feel about such optimistic twaddle, especially now I’ve got the alcohol-induced euphoria from Saturday night out of my system.

Trying to be cool and carefree, telling you “it’s just a win” won’t fool anyone of course. I hate agreeing with Ferguson but he’s right: nothing has been achieved yet. I’m still smiling though! United’s greatness in the modern era has been largely due to their manager’s unquestionable ability to exploit such disappointments by bullying/inciting his men to an all-conquering response.

He’ll be particularly prickly at the moment since there was more than a hint of arrogance and disdain about their build-up, line-up and performance that emanated largely from the manager’s office.

Ripping into Keane days earlier wasn’t the smartest of moves. It’s part of football folklore that the old goat got his first lesson in mind games from Bob Paisley back in his Aberdeen days.

Effusive praise for Strachan meant the wee gargoyle hogged the ball and adversely affected the battle plan, although we wouldn’t have lost no matter what they did. The effect of such nonsense has always been hugely exaggerated but Ferguson’s never been able to leave well alone.

Before last season’s visit they sucked up to Torres to such an extent you expected them to turn up with adoption papers. He did try to do a little too much but United would still have won.

The Keane comments were part of a long-standing feud but so casually uttered that it was clear Ferguson didn’t believe we were capable of making him eat his words. In my pre-match watering hole many Liverpool fans agreed. When the team was announced without Gerrard and Torres, the mood became darker still.

At one o’clock we were like rubberneckers at our own train wreck, hellishly aware of the grisly fate that awaited us but unable to look away.

So what the hell happened? Complacency crept into their game to be sure but even before the freakish equaliser, you sensed the mood begin to change.

It was reminiscent of the Arsenal Champions League quarter-final, when we were given a lesson early on but somehow fought back to 1-1. That hits a team hard and they never really recovered, nor did United.

Even when a side’s that good, you can’t just turn it on and off like a tap. During our years of dominance, it made my skin crawl to hear other supporters talk of luck, but looking up at our former perch there’s something to be said for it.

One incident made so much difference on Saturday, filled our boys with confidence and renewed aggression while United impotently watched it slip away from them.

Riera was initially credited with the goal. He was okay, nothing too special, but in the light of the result it will most likely be mythologised into something more substantial. Beating United isn’t a bad way to announce your arrival.

Since he also did it at City we should send him out on loan to a different club every game. Maybe not next week though, as Chelsea look ominously impressive so far.

Mascherano was the main man, contributing hugely to the steel and defiance that so often goes missing from this team in this fixture. We did beat them in the cup two years ago, but Neville’s provocative celebrations did Rafa’s team talk for him that time.

Babel will hate being called Supersub but he’d better get used to it. His goal had an air of scuffed ineptitude about it, but other touches in and around the box took the breath away. He’s an enigma but his impact late in games has become a major feature of our play.

Since playing down our chances seems to work I expect us to be brought down to earth by Stoke — if Marseille haven’t done it already.