Soccer: We’re ready for first crack at Roman Empire

REGULAR readers will know that, for family reasons, I am appallingly biased towards French players.

Furthermore, if any of you have read my book about United in the 1970s, you might recall that I always give black players an extra benefit of the doubt, having been horrified by the racism I witnessed on the Old Trafford terraces when West Brom's 'Three Degrees' tore us apart in 1978.

So it does pain me a little to report to you this exchange from OT's main stand at kick-off on Saturday about our new black French player David Bellion. Two old-timers are arguing about the new boy's merits and one suggests that, given time, he might develop into the new Thierry Henry.

The other snorts in derision and says "let's see, shall we?" About 20 minutes later, when David has been caught in no-man's-land once again doing a headless chicken impression, the sceptic turns in triumph and remarks: "Thierry Henry? More like Lenny Henry, you mean."

Well, it made me laugh anyway.

So admittedly Bellion did not cover himself with glory against Rovers but, judging by the Forlan precedent, the boy will get at least two more years before he is marked for the reject pile.

I wish him the best of luck and only hope that he can emulate our other black Frenchman, Mickael Silvestre, in proving the critics wrong.

At least we had one new boy doing the business on Saturday: Kleberson certainly did enough to scotch the scurrilous rumours which had surfaced in a couple of papers that United had misread a scouting report and signed the wrong Brazilian.

It was fitting that on a dull afternoon, the one dazzling bright spot was given the final illumination by Klebbo himself, finishing off one of the best moves of the season for what proved to be the winner.

His success, however, is bad news for Nicky Butt, who now looks to be so far down the midfield pecking order that plc accountants must surely be looking at him as a 'suggestion' for a balance-sheet-tidying summer sale.

Whilst we are, unaccustomably, looking to praise instead of carp, why not doff a hat too in the direction of another slowburner, whose example may give Bellion heart: Quinton Fortune.

Instrumental as a creator on Saturday, he is beginning to warm K-Stand cockles with his commitment and versatility.

Fergie loves him to bits too; after four years of seeing United apparently wasting money in the transfer market, perhaps here's one case where we will be able to reflect that we did well.

Lest you feel I'm getting too optimistic, though, I ought to point out that concern continues to grow over the displays of both Rio Ferdinand and John O'Shea.

Rio will shortly be toast so his dimwittery isn't that crucial but Sheasy's a different case. C'mon, Johnny: buck up, or my mate Peter Boyle will never get to Number One with his 'Johnny Goes Marching Down The Wing' single

At least all these guys have years ahead of them to get things right, unlike that wretchedly sad sight in blue and white, Dwight Yorke.

To think he was a United hero only three years ago!

How the mighty can fall, when the appearances in the gossip columns become more numerous than on 'Match Of The Day' highlights.

Nevertheless, what we wouldn't give for a Yorke-like player now to partner Nistelrooy, who was back at his best on Saturday.

The stage is surely set for a mid-season coup such as Sir Alex effected in January 1995 when he stunned football by swooping for Andy Cole. Yes, I cling resolutely to the belief that The Boss knows full well he has something cooking for Christmas that ain't a turkey. Why?

Because he seems so insouciant and confident in the face of a) United's underwhelming performances b) the continuing hold-up over his contract and c) his own well-publicised problems with his old horsey pals.

Or is it, more prosaically yet just as importantly, that he has finally got a grip on the question of whom he is going to appoint as coach? He hinted this week that he has been giving the issue some deep thought recently, having previously put the problem on the backburner.

Whatever: something is needed to take us back to the cutting edge, otherwise our current league position threatens to be our final one.

Tonight we're in Greece where, one trusts, we will be professional enough not to allow a slip up against a second-rate team we humiliated back in September.

Everyone's mind is, after all, understandably on Sunday, when we get our first crack at the new Holy Roman Empire. This ought to be the kind of day that brings out the very best in us.

I remember a very similar atmosphere last November when an all-conquering Arsenal came to Old Trafford at a time when we were playing badly and also failing to rack up the points.

You had a sense of an excited nation, sick of our decade of dominance, rubbing their hands in glee at the prospect of witnessing a historic moment of regime change.

So it is now: we enjoy the rare sensation of going into a game as underdogs. You will recall last season that the unlikeliest of matchwinners, Phil Neville, rose magnificently to the challenge to wrestle the crown from Vieira's head.

This year, I suspect that if there's to be a hero, it'd have to be Tim Howard. Yep, that's trepidation you detect.

"Helmets on, lads."

Richard Kurt is the Deputy Editor of 'Red Issue' magazine