DRAMATIC!
Serb’s last-gasp thunderbolt caps fightback as Hodgson suffers night of heartbreak
roy Hodgson (below). even without the match- winning third, Lukaku’s 76th-minute equaliser would have spared United the embarrassment of recording their poorest league sequence away from home since January 1996. Having lost at Spurs and Newcastle, a third straight league defeat would have represented a 22-year low; instead it was Palace who recorded an unenviable entry in the annals. Lost 15, drawn three — their sequence of 18 games without a win against United is the longest of its kind in the Premier League. They must have thought the hoodoo was going to be broken last night. Instead heartbreak, but not of the unfortunate kind. The Matic shot, his first goal for United, was a thunderbolt, but what went before was sloppy from Palace, two goals that illustrated why they are in such a parlous position, undoing tremendous hard work and long spells of admirable resilience with lapses of concentration. A Chris Smalling header got United back in the game, taking full advantage of a sleepy James Tomkins, who stayed deep and played him and Paul Pogba onside. Antonio Valencia crossed and Smalling got there first, steering the gentlest header past Wayne Hennessey.
Time seemed to stand still for the equaliser, too, after an Alexis Sanchez shot had ricocheted up off Tomkins. It fell to Lukaku, who seemed to have an age to turn and beat Hennessey with a low shot.
Sluggishness is most certainly not a fault of United goalkeeper David de Gea, however, and moments later he pulled off one of the saves of the season to keep out a Christian Benteke header.
Had that gone in, who knows if United would have had the fight to go again, or where Palace would be now. Who knows, indeed, where United would be at all without the brilliant De Gea. He changes games the way the best strikers do.
How different in the first half. The complaint about Manchester United’s grey shirts in 1996 was that the players could not see each other and if a similar issue was identified with the current away kit, some of the more puzzling aspects of last night’s performance would make sense.
The early passing, for instance, from players of obvious quality: Pogba and Sanchez. Pogba struggled with his radar throughout the first half and Sanchez was not far behind him. At one point the Chilean had his head in his hands having over-hit a through-ball so long it skipped into the crowd, fielded by a man in a red jacket.
Sanchez’s next pass trickled harmlessly into touch, beyond the reach of Valencia. It was completely out of character.
Some would argue not so with Pogba, whose form since returning from injury has been chequered at best. This was no different.
In odd moments, Pogba would look mighty, head up, an imposing physical specimen, powering through midfield. The next he would strike a crossfield ball or some similarly ambitious attempt that would fly yards wide of its intended target, careless and misjudged, too strong or easily read and cut out.
As his frustration grew, so did his
determination to prove he was better than this, the passes growing more spectacular in intent and more likely to fail.
His best work of the night, a dangerous cross from the right that slipped through Hennessey’s hands, was also one of his simplest acts.
Hodgson, meanwhile, must have been delighted with how determined and organised Palace were in these opening stages.
The first goal had a large element of good fortune, but Palace’s work-rate meant few could deny them the justice of their lead. They were ahead after 11 minutes — a spawny deflection, yes, but with no little graft to sweeten it.
Benteke did magnificently, holding the ball up and leading Smalling a merry dance along the edge of the penalty area, before releasing a square pass to Andros Townsend. He pulled the trigger and the ball struck Victor Lindelof on the back, sending it up into the top corner, out of the reach of De Gea.
At the time, Palace simply looked more alert and their second goal proved it. Jeffrey Schlupp won a free-kick, put it down and took it immediately, slipping the ball through to Patrick van Aanholt. United’s players were variously regrouping, disengaged or appealing in vain for some imagined infringement Schlupp had committed; a speed- of-thought offence, perhaps.
Van Aanholt was now in on goal with only De Gea to beat and so expert was his finish that the goalkeeper stood, feet planted, not even diving to try to save.
Mourinho cursed furiously from the touchline, not at the advantage played, but the advantage taken of his dopey superstars. Wisely, they took the hint.