Man’s inhumanity to Man

I THINK this must be what they mean when they talk about Man’s inhumanity to Man.

A goal up and a man up, Man City could have been forgiven for doing it the Italian way and shutting up shop at Old Trafford yesterday.

Instead, they went on first to add two more and then, when Man United had the temerity to score a fine goal of their own, came up with the withering reply of another three, turning glorious victory for the blue into abject humiliation for the red.

“Fail to prepare, prepare to fail.” Roy Keane, who knows a thing or two about Manchester derbies, said that, but he obviously wasn’t making allowances for the existence of the unique personality that is Mario Balotelli.

Having to flee your house after setting it on fire by letting off fireworks in your bathroom in the wee hours of the morning is not, so far as I know, generally recommended in the coaching manuals as the ideal way to be preparing two nights before the biggest game of the season so far.

But Mario, as we know, marches to the beat of a different drum, so perhaps we shouldn’t have been all that surprised that yesterday he scored the first goal, caused Jonny Evans to commit the foul which saw him sent off, scored the second and even threw in an extravagant flick in the build-up to City’s third.

Yet, it tells you everything about the depth of Roberto Mancini’s faith in the player that the manager, wisely you’d have to say, withdrew him from battle at the point when he and City were firmly in the ascendant.

Sure, he might have gone on to score a hat-trick but, equally, he might have tried to set fire to his T-shirt.

Better to take no chances with mercurial Mario.

Anyway, when you have more quality or your bench than a lot of Premier League teams have in their first 11, you can afford such luxury problems. So on comes Edin Dzeko and by the end of the rout, he too is on a hat-trick and Sergio Aguero and David Silva have also gotten in on the goal act.

Silva, as ever, was the golden boy for City yesterday but, on a day when the marquee names all lived up to billing, there were also starring roles for less celebrated types like Micah Richards and James Milner.

And, by any reckoning, it was a triumph too for Mancini whose system meant that City were not only able to soak up early pressure but then take the lead against the run of play.

Then, when the heavens fell in on Evans at the start of the second half, City used their man advantage to textbook effect, swinging the ball from flank to flank and when they finally had United almost out on their feet physically, clinically delivering the late flurry of blows which laid the champs out flat.

But as good a day as this was for City, it could hardly have been worse for United. Even when they were on top in the first period, the final ball repeatedly let them down — Joe Hart will rarely have a quieter outing in a more high stakes setting.

Post-Paul Scholes, United’s old failing in the centre of the park was painfully apparent, the game largely passing Anderson by while Darren Fletcher would have been equally anonymous but for the ultimately meaningless consolation of his sweet strike for United’s only goal.

Indeed, so bereft of creativity were United in the middle that Wayne Rooney was obliged to do most of his best work there. And while Ashley Young flattered to deceive on one flank, Nani was wholly ineffectual on the other. Again it’s a recurring problem for United: on a good day, Nani is almost as good as Ronaldo but on a bad day he is almost as bad as Ronaldo.

Of course, the sending off was a turning point but let’s not forget that City were already a goal ahead at that point.

True, had United not been behind when the red card was flashed, they would not have had to leave themselves so open in a bid to chase the game. So maybe this really was a blue moon afternoon.

But, still, this was fortress Old Trafford, this was Manchester United, this was the English champions and Champions League finalists, this was a team managed by Alex Ferguson — and they were still walloped, thumped, tanked, tonked, hammered and humiliated.

Which leaves just one question: Carlos who?