Malcolm in the middle

SINCE these troubled times for Manchester United and - to judge by the wall-to-wall news coverage - the whole world as we know it, this column feels duty-bound to try and cheer people up with a good, old-fashioned gag.

And, of course, the beauty of it is that you can’t stop me even if you’ve heard it before. So here goes: the Rev Ian Paisley suddenly lapses into a mysterious coma from which he does not emerge for 20 years. Gathered around his bed as he regains consciousness is a gaggle of nervous DUP colleagues.

“Good to have you back, sir,” says one, “but I’m afraid things have changed while you’ve been away. I have two bits of bad news and one bit of good news. First of all, I have to tell you that you are now living in a united Ireland.”

Paisley is aghast, and has to be restrained. The aide continues: “there’s more. It is also my unhappy duty to inform you that our president is now Gerry Adams.”

Paisley goes completely bananas but, on the very point of self-combustion, suddenly remembers there’s some good news.

“Ah, yes,” says his colleague, “I’m delighted to tell you that Rangers beat Celtic in the Old Firm derby on Saturday.” “Excellent,” says Paisley, visibly brightening, “what was the score?” The aide takes a deep breath. “2-14 to 1-7.”

And what’s all this got to do with Malcolm Glazer? Only that the fans should console themselves with the thought that in just a few years a revitalised Manchester United might actually win the Superbowl.

Okay, so it’s really no laughing matter - but then it’s hardly a matter of life and death either. Not that you’d know it from listening to the RTÉ News, where the announcement of the Glazer takeover bid took top billing and Ireland’s first lung transplant was pushed down into fifth place. As a football nut of my acquaintance commented approvingly: “It’s nice to see them get their priorities right for once.”

Despite all this Manchester United RIP stuff, it might also be worth recalling - if only in the interest of perspective - that this is the club which survived the Munich disaster. So I think they can handle a life after debt. But, yes, there are certainly a number of good reasons to be suspicious of Glazer’s move, not the least of which is his frankly alarming resemblance to John McCririck. And, instinctively, one’s sympathies in these matters are always with the fans before the suits. Or, in this case, the baseball caps. Football may be big business, after all, but even though it’s increasingly hard to tell them apart, they’re still not the same thing. Thousands of people don’t yet take to the streets to celebrate a rise in share prices. Romance, history, obsession - these things still count at a football club, even if they don’t show up in the end of year accounts.

But money does make the ball go round, which is why United fans are deeply unhappy about a Glazer takeover they believe will bring only an increase in ticket prices and a shortfall of funds to buy players. These are certainly reasons to be fearful. But other elements of the fans’ reaction have been deeply ironic. One is the speed with which the Coolmore boys have gone from villains to heroes to villains - talk about being stuck between the Rock of Gibraltar and the hard place.

The loud concern that Alex Ferguson will now walk is another - many United fans have been quietly advocating precisely that course of action for much of what has been another disappointing season for the club. There is also some recognisably knee-jerk anti-Americanism in the burning of Glazer’s effigy, a phenomenon gleefully fuelled by rival supporters who have long-since taken to chanting USA, USA at the United faithful. And you sense that things will get a lot uglier, to judge by the “Glazer will die” chants at Old Trafford and the excesses of the self-styled Manchester Education Committee who have already “issued a statement” - how wonderfully professional - threatening the Glazer family with physical harm.

It’s all so deeply depressing that you wonder if, on further reflection, the reclusive Glazer will think the few million bucks are really worth the candle. Attempting to pass through the main reception door at Anfield on Champions’ League semi-final night, I found myself having to abruptly stand aside for a fast-walking, extremely large security man who managed to make the words “excuse me” sound like a death threat. Trailing in his slipstream was Roman Abramovich.

That was Chelsea’s money man making his hasty exit from an away ground. Which begs the question: just how substantial a security detail would Glazer require to make it safely in and out of his own ground? Or, maybe, he will simply stay well away from Old Trafford - as so many of the fans are threatening to do.

What we have now is a new collision of East and West, a Cold War played out in football between the Russian and American tycoons. At the moment, there appears to be only one winner, but you don’t need to look too far into the future to see how it could all go spectacularly pear-shaped at Stamford Bridge.

At least the United faithful are under no illusions. And, in the end, as it always does, it will come down to what happens on the pitch. With or without Glazer, United already face a tough challenge to match Chelsea and Arsenal next season. But there may also be some consolation in an even older football truism: no one man is bigger than the club.