Our first glimpse of Owen of yore

SO Michael Owen DOES still know where the goal is after all, and few would dispute his clipped finish at Wigan was quite masterful. Be grateful that his leg didn’t snap in two during the process, as has been his wont. He looked suitably delighted, and thankfully spared us the grisly hands-rubbing-together routine he used to indulge in at Liverpool.

There’d been grumblings already. Seeing such a famed greedy-guts eschew the opportunity to snaffle penalties at Wembley and Turf Moor hadn’t inspired confidence, nor his quartet of missed chances in the first two league matches, which had summoned up memories of Andy Cole’s beginnings.

The two have much in common: signings that were a total shock from Newcastle; previously disliked players who came carrying injuries; quondam Future England Legends who never quite reached that level; and playing styles that could be criticised as being too much goal-hanging and not enough goal-making (though to be fair to old Andy, he became a much better all-round team-player at United. But he is never going to feature on any fan’s all-time Red heroes list).

Both Owen and Cole had to wait until their third games to get off the mark too – Cole then also scored in his fourth and would end up with a decent-enough goals-per-game ratio by the time he retired.

One hopes Owen can continue the parallel against Arsenal on Saturday, opponents he once skewered at Cardiff.

But with due respect to our little woolly-back, the greatest delight on Saturday was the performance of Berbatov. He’s been good since the off this season, but at Wigan he was wonderful. His scintillating perfectly-weighted back-heel set up for Scholes in the first half really WAS worth the price of admission, a touch only Cantona could’ve emulated; the exquisite close control to set up a goal for himself was Cruyff Grade-A level. Still there will be Reds who continue to moan about his overall contribution, despite his near-record 68 goal-chances created in that supposed under-par last season. At some point, you stop arguing. The blind cannot see. Move on.

As for Rooney, what more can one say? The liberation that he has been demanding for almost three years to play front and centre has finally been granted, and his every brilliant step proves how right he was (and how misguided Fergie & Co have been). Robbie Savage revealed that everyone outside Old Trafford had been secretly delighted Fergie kept persisting with Roo out wide: “You’d see the team sheet, and you knew your chances of beating United had just increased.”

What a tribute to the Spud-Faced Nipper that, despite being so stymied for so long, he still managed nonetheless to give us so much. Now that he is fully unleashed, your mind can barely encompass the potential outcomes. Certainly, South Africa could be in for an era-defining treat come July. ‘The White Pele’ living up to his T-shirt billing, at last, 1970-style? So the mini-crisis is apparently over, although market rumblings continue to disturb: Mrs. Vidic’s Mancophobia would appear to have reasserted itself; Anderson is supposedly in the doghouse and possibly on the way out; the loathsome Robben is, horrifically, being linked to us. So it goes, for another few days at least. Yet our visitors on Saturday appear to have shown already that, sometimes, you can actually gain strength from selling trouble, and then not taking the risk of importing any more.

All those Gunner goals this past week, and yet their strikers haven’t even fired up yet: should we worry? Probably. Until then, we’ll be too busy laughing at Liverpool’s meltdown…