Unlikely lads give glimpse of what they really could be
Victory wasn’t pretty, or even deserved, but it showed a resolve that has been sorely lacking
First the guts, then the glory. As the winning goal nestled in the Juventus net after an interminable delay and an epic journey of ricochets, wild swings and pregnant pauses that resembled some of their recent bus arrivals, Manchester United finally had their moment of jubilee.
In an instant, the bruises stopped throbbing. The lungs stopped aching. And for the 3,828 United fans who had made the journey over to Turin, a rush that will have awakened some long-dormant emotions of a team, and a club, that used to win like this all the time.
It was an away performance to sit alongside their famous triumph here in 1999: not necessarily in terms of quality or occasion, but in terms of collective spirit. Because – and let’s not mince our words here – United aren’t actually all that good. Seventh place in the Premier League doesn’t really do them a disservice.
There have been points this season when they have played like a pub team. But through it all, as the ghosts of the Jose Mourinho third season pounded at the door, it turned out they had this in them all along.
Two late goals – a set-piece and a goalmouth scramble – might suggest a smash-and-grab.
So might the statistics: Juventus with 55pc of possession, 23 shots to eight, enough chances to put the game to bed long before Juan Mata hauled United back into it. In fact, United truly earned this one: not for the last four minutes, but for the previous 86.
Having gone behind to a moment of pure explosion from Cristiano Ronaldo, they redoubled their efforts, ran themselves dry and with one last heave, knocked over a Juventus team that had lost here just nine times in seven years.
As the teams trooped off at the break, Victor Lindelof punched the air with both fists in celebration.
No, it wasn’t his half-time accumulator coming through; he had just pulled off a goal-saving clearance on the stroke of the whistle, by putting his head in the sort of area where heads tend not to fare too well.
And it was emblematic of a United performance in which they were, above all, willing to suffer. There will be some sore joints this morning. It was a scintillating, concussive sort of game, but the sort that supporters adore more than any stroll in the park.
It was Ashley Young steaming in on Alex Sandro early in the second half, stealing a ball he had no right to steal, injuring himself in the process but also setting off Alexis Sanchez on the counter. It was Luke Shaw heroically inviting a clash of heads with Juan Cuadrado as he stooped to clear a cross.
It was Jesse Lingard putting in a big reducer on Ronaldo within the first eight minutes that scandalised the crowd and set United on the attack.
It was Nemanja Matic scything down Paulo Dybala from behind: a yellow card, but also a warning shot.
It was Sanchez, leading the line in the absence of Romelu Lukaku, not just charging down Wojciech Szczesny but directing his team-mates to join him, in a rare and highly unusual event: the Manchester United press.
United: pressing! It was like seeing your grandparents using Skype for the first time. And all over the pitch, United
Der Spiegel’s report remains to be seen. Whether it would even make a difference is the issue at hand.
This fidelity is prevalent across all sports. Take Floyd Mayweather, a truly global sports figure whose venerated status has glossed over his disposition for violence against women.
So what he was found guilty of domestic violence in 2002? This pales into insignificance when compared to his undefeated record. So what he was convicted of misdemeanour battery in 2003? By then, he was a unified twoweight champion of the sport. Eight years later he was at it again, having been found guilty of hitting the mother of three of his children, but this faded into irrelevance as negotiations for a fight with Manny Pacquiao bout dominated the headlines. Mayweather’s crimes may be acknowledged, but they are an inconvenient truth, pushed to the periphery of a narrative that deifies the American and elevates him to a level that exonerates him of his sins.
Ask any fan what they associate with Mayweather and the habitual responses you’ll get are ‘money’, ‘fame’, ‘success’ and the like. Rarely, if ever, is any consideration given to ‘serial domestic abuser’.
This is what life at the top means. Live fast, live hard, live life outside of the rules. For this, Mayweather has sport’s patriarchal overtones to thank.
Misogyny
But it’s not just sexism and misogyny. It’s racism, too. The Luis Suarez controversy of 2011 underlined in bold red football’s dangerous devotion to its ‘heroes’. Twenty-four hours after the Uruguayan was found guilty of racially abusing Patrice Evra,
Liverpool proudly stood by their man, with players donning T-shirts in support of their team-mate ahead of a league match against Wigan. It was a gesture that belittled Suarez’s transgression and turned it on its head.
This is about much more than Cristiano Ronaldo. He is just the latest in a long line of famous sports figures to have been accused of a crime. And, unless proven otherwise, he will remain an innocent man. But it’s that instinct to dismiss and defend, rather than pause for reflection, which sits uneasily. For the moment we judge any one person incapable of a crime is a dangerous day.
As such, this is not a rallying cry against Ronaldo but a plea to disarm and cast aside tribal allegiances. It’s time to give greater consideration to the dangers of glorifying our sporting icons and the absolution that follows.
The moment we judge any one person incapable of a crime is a dangerous day