It never Waynes but it pours

SOMETIMES football seems to be about anything but football. Consider the Premiership, and how much print and airtime is devoted to money, rows, hype, mind games, scandals, takeovers and, on a daily basis, enough hot air to power global warming all by itself.

And then, just when you’re thinking that it’s all a case of too much soap and not enough opera — the fat lad sings.

I speak of Wayne Rooney, the player who was supposed to be suffering a slump and, by his own ridiculously high standards, probably was. Not that he was ever found wanting in terms of effort and team input in Manchester United’s startling renaissance this season, but with his back to back virtuoso performances against Portsmouth and Watford, it seems as if the genius switch has been flicked on again.

Of course, he’s not really a fat lad at all, more big boned than big bellied, but why spoil a good line, eh? And the fact that he’s more chunky than hunky may be to his advantage in career terms, unless he fancies going west prematurely like pin-up boy Becks. Recall George Best’s memorable line: “If I’d been born ugly, you’d never have heard of Pele”.

Rooney, you would think — and hope — is unlikely to fall foul of the fame trap. Sure, filthy lucre can always breed temptation and the rough edges of youth can bring him into contact with hot water from time to time, but the overriding impression you get from him is of a young fella still besotted with the thrilling magic of the game as played in the street and the schoolyard.

And it’s a measure of the impact of his talent that he single-handedly returned us all to that state of blissful innocence and awe with his two wonder goals in the past seven days. For once, the water cooler and pub conversations were not about what Mourinho moaned or Fergie slammed or Sepp blathered but, instead, were full of simple wonder at the age-old chemistry of man and ball: “Did you see what Rooney did last night?”

And, indeed, you had to see it to appreciate it. And, if you didn’t, don’t worry, you will. Even in a season which has already been distinguished by the unusually high quality and quantity of goals scored right across the Premiership, Rooney’s sublime chip over the stranded David James of Portsmouth was exceptional, and is destined for television’s permanent loop.

You will see it again and again and you’ll never tire of it, this thing of beauty and a joy forever.

Yes, yes, commitment and application and a good engine and box to box endeavour are all vital components of the game but Wayne Rooney’s moment of magic — a perfect meeting of imaginative conception and faultless execution — is why we fell in love with football in the first place, the reason we can still call it “the beautiful game” and make no apology for it.

And then, a couple of days later, he only went and did it all over again. As Jonathan Ross might say: it never Waynes but it pours. Admittedly, the second one came against a Watford side which was already down and out but the combination of Ronaldo’s superb scooped pass and Rooney’s finish — this time a lob rather than a chip but with oodles of what the basketballers call “hang time” — just left you sitting there with a silly grin on your face all over again.

Of course, one of the reasons that the Hornets were already down and out is because Rooney had also played a pivotal role in United’s second, off-loading a wonderfully disguised pass for Henrik Larsson to glide first-time to the net. Another delightful cameo for the scrapbook.

With Rooney apparently back to his best, Ronaldo enjoying the best form of his young life, Larsson supplying the experienced touch, and player of the year (so far) Paul Scholes ruling the roost, United are now rivalling Arsenal for the title of purists’ favourite in the Premiership. But on the same night that United were demolishing Watford and grabbing most headlines, Chelsea disposed of Blackburn without much fanfare, their 3-0 win notable not only for a Frank Lampard blockbuster but also for some fine, free-flowing football. Chelsea may lack the scintillating flair of United at their swaggering best and their defence still looks suspect but, when everything clicks, Mourinho’s men can still live up to their billing as champions.

Chips, lobs, blockbusters, lots of fluent one-touch play, a genuinely enthralling title race and plenty to keep the neutral absorbed further down the table.

That’s the Premiership report this week. Football, just football. Wouldn’t it be great if it was like this all the time?