These kids are the real deal

AFTER last week’s giddy column, I did wonder whether I’d been guilty of letting myself get too carried away by the mere flash of some teenage flesh.

Having repeatedly bigged up the prospects of Cleverley and Welbeck in print over the last two years, and being signed up to the Smalling fan club from day one last season, was I being too biased?

After Monday though, I consider whether I might have underplayed it.

Add in the sensational home debut by young Jones against Spurs, showing the presence of a man 10 years senior, and you have a mix of excitement and novelty the likes of which you have to go back to the mid-90s to find a precedent for — Blackburn away, August 1995, to be precise.

Of course, these are early days, but still: when as good a judge as Eric Harrison says that this team, with the additional of one top midfielder, could win a treble, you can be forgiven for believing him.

Even the often diffident Anderson seems to have been rejuvenated by the verve of those around him, finally looking like the hungry 23-year-old he’s supposed to be, rather than a sated and jaded old-timer. De Gea, as I suggested would be the case last week, already appears to be overcoming the early demons after being shown a heartening display of confidence by all at Old Trafford. And as I also prophesied, the defence barely seemed to notice it had two veteran stalwarts missing. Not that I would want to see Vidic return a moment later than is necessary, I hasten to add — but Rio must already be feeling every one of his advanced years as he watches Jones sweep all in front of him.

Youthful mistakes are going to occur, naturally; exaggerated dips in form and confidence too, perhaps.

But surely Fergie had every right to beam with the giddy brightness of a boss in his fifties afterwards — sorely tempted, one imagines, to stick around now for as long as possible to see how far these pups might take us.

If a litter needs a dominant bulldog, then Rooney looks like he might be ready to take up the role so many would wish for him, that would also give him a platform from which to complete his gradual popular rehabilitation after last autumn’s disgrace. And wherever you look in the squad, myriad possibilities appear to have opened up.

Tinkerbell’s certainly going to love using his selectoral kaleidoscope on this lot.

We’re already fantasising about the Wengerian aspects of this potentially Wagnerian week. What if the Gunners get blown out of Europe tonight and are then humiliatingly spiked by our bunch of kids on Sunday? What price on Arsene’s future then? What a stunning caesura that could be in our clubs’ relationship.

I do apologise: I’m starting to gibber like a City fan. Back to business, for a moment — for there’s always the alternative, which is that we will one day look back on this week and bemoan a failure to sign that Harrison-prescribed midfielder before the window closed. As I write, I do know that the Sneijder deal is still not dead, though the stake is certainly hovering over its heart. Do we need him, though?

Two weeks ago, no Red would have disagreed; now, having seen Cleverley and Young freshly gilding that midfield’s edges, it’s an open question. A footballing fortnight is as long as a week in politics indeed…”