Excited by a title race that isn’t black and white, but hopefully red all over

AS Torres’ second went in, to give the jammy Scousers their laboured win against a Chelsea side unfairly reduced to ten men, few could resist the temptation to declare this the week that the title race finally became a proper Red v Red death-match for the first time in almost 30 years. If Rafa can avoid reproducing his Keegan impression, that is.

Or perhaps their Spaniard In The Works will be Torres instead; an acquaintance of John Aldridge tells me Aldo has been directly told that Torres is getting increasingly unhappy about some major beef at Anfield, which may see the light of day in print any day now.

Normally I would say “one can but hope” but I have become very wedded to the prospect of this north-western battle royale, not least as the crown of England’s historic Champions of Champions is at stake.

I mentioned last week that although 1988 and 1986 were also, in theory, Red v Red for most of the way, you have to go back to 1980 for the last Real McCoy. Then as now, a holy month meeting at Old Trafford appeared to be the key.

In 2009, it’ll take place on March 14, and it would appear Liverpool will be taking on the role that we played in 1980 of slightly desperate coat-tail hanging underdogs looking to launch a last-gasp assault.

We did so, gloriously, on Easter Monday 1980, when Jimmy Greenhoff performed a wonderful Roy of the Rovers routine, scoring the key goal after a long injury lay-off. That kick-started six straight wins, which took us to a bitter final day brink at Elland Road.

I suppose we are getting ahead of ourselves a touch, given that Chelsea remain only three points off the scousers, but still: what zest this historic rematch would add to a rather all-too-familiar spring process for United.

There was a nostalgic air to be had on Saturday, too, at the sight of the Neville brothers smashing captaincy antlers: wasn’t this the first such high-level set-to since the days of the Charltons leading the Uniteds of Leeds and Manchester? Of course, the comparison ends there: Leeds and Manchester were proper rivals in the way that we and the Toffees have never truly been, and I was amazed to be reminded before kick-off that Everton hadn’t won at Old Trafford since 1992. Another shuddering memory: they took us apart 3-0 that night right at the start of the season, and I recall the mass ripping-up of figurative title betting slips among fellow Stretford Enders. Who could have imagined…

I doubt I will remember last Saturday in another 17 minutes, let alone 17 years. Such is the stuff of the routinely colourless three-pointers that, we are constantly reminded, make up a necessary part of a champion palette.

Nonetheless, pause to note the continuing decent levels being produced by Carrick — whilst still suggesting he might yet disappear when the truly big boys get at him — and the fizz of Tevez, who clearly wants that renewal badly.

Not badly enough, though, for Carlito to command his grasping agent to re-calculate his monetary arithmetic, it would seem.

Incidentally, I was reminded as last week that Tevez’s ‘agent’ doesn’t even have a license, and so shouldn’t be negotiating with United at all in the first place. Naturally, hell will freeze over before anyone tackles that issue.

All fit and proper, we are assured, and nothing to worry our pretty little heads about — which is precisely what we were told when Tevez first came to the UK and some of us dared to ask questions about third party ownership. You will have noted, I trust, that the ramifications of that are still resounding loudly today, three years later. The club potentially most affected by that brouhaha ‘welcome’ us on Sunday — a tin hat day for all brave northern travellers awaits. And obviously I therefore hope I won’t be nostalgising about May 1995 next week….

* Richard Kurt, whose Red Army Years is only available via [e-mail]