Macheda provides the magic as title battle now destined to be red all over

SO NEVER mind last night; surely it couldn’t have topped last weekend’s thrillfest double-header in London and Manchester? That was precisely the kind of possibility I had in mind a couple of months ago, when I slightly masochistically suggested that we should all enjoy seeing this race go Red v Red until the breathless death.

Now, it’s one of the unwritten rules amongst English football hacks who deal with each other that you should rarely indulge in “fan banter” together. Something to do with being professional, objective and all that other guff.

But I couldn’t blame one of my pals from a Sunday paper who’s a lifelong Liverpool fan for ringing me from the Cottage press box at full-time to yell uncontrollably: “Now it’s on! Now we’ll see what ye’re made of!”

Naturally, come Sunday night, I had to return the courtesy: I settled for sweetly trilling the couplet “anything you can do/I can do better” onto his voicemail, his phone presumably having been hurled through the TV screen.

So grazie, Signor Macheda.

Indeed, I could have selected a song from “A Star Is Born,” I guess, such was the instant worldwide acclaim that greeted the young Italian.

I am grasping to think of a more sensational debut in recent times, and the effect hasn’t been spoiled one iota by Lazio’s cuckolded whinging.

Earlier this year, we revelled in the starburst unveiling of young Welbeck, who scored an equally good goal, though in less startling circumstances, on his Old Trafford bow. At one point on Sunday, both the Stretfordian and the Roman were rampaging around Villa’s box, two 17-years-olds desperately trying to win the match for us — and every youth-loving Red should have been hugging ourselves with delight.

Later, watching the highlights, I was also thrilled to see the Fergie of old reappear, eyes fresh and alight with fiery pride and determination, waving aside the obvious defensive deficiencies as quickly as possible in his haste to get onto a resounding restatement of his United credo — we play to win, but in the right way, whatever the odds.

Next day, another non-United-supporting Old Trafford correspondent phoned me up to congratulate us, and opined that the Italian Job smash ‘n’ grab would be the goal that would win us the title. We shouldn’t be so previous, clearly: but I couldn’t help think of another unexpected Easter-time intervention that gave us a 3-2 win in straitened circumstances, which would eventually prove to be the key turning point. That was in 1994, when the forgotten man Dion Dublin returned from a year out to put Oldham to the sword during a nervy, error-ridden, yet life-affirming 90 minutes. That spring, too, had seen an Ides Of March blip: we ended up in May with the Double. That’d do this time too, lads.

We saw the darker side of Fergie, however, in his press conference on Monday when he was asked about the Saturday story in two English papers declaring that Real and United have cynically and secretly agreed the Ronaldo transfer at e80 million: the response was a brief Fergie fury, followed by a blanket refusal to engage with the issue, and undoubtedly a mental note to ensure that one of the reporters involved (Danny Taylor of The Guardian) will never see his current Old Trafford press conference ban lifted.

Red Issue had got wind of the story on the Friday afternoon via our website’s pay-per-view section, at the very moment when (I can reveal) Ronaldo and Fergie were involved in an unpleasant training ground incident after the winker indulged in one uncollegiate strop too far.

It all bodes ill, of course — though if the lad continues to score doubles like Sunday’s in every game in the meantime, perhaps we can live with it.

* By Richard Kurt, whose “Red Army Years” is available to buy now. Order via [e-mail].