Manchester United 0 – 3 MAN CITY – MY THOUGHTS

Nerves are always prevalent in a derby. It’s only natural that a certain notion of anxiety and tension creep into the mindsets of supporters. And so, before yesterday’s game, there was an element of fear. All those feelings of dread and worry, however, were to underestimate just how slick and professional a side City are these days, and conversely, overestimate United’s ability to raise themselves for a game of this magnitude.

It is testament to how efficient we are, and to what mediocre and insipid level our rivals have fallen, that we didn’t even have to perform at our best to win, and to win comfortably. On the face of it, this wasn’t quite as crushing as the 6-1 at Old Trafford a couple of years ago or the elegant 4-1 home victory earlier this season, but it was nevertheless a performance of total control.

At times, especially in the opening twenty minutes, some of the football we played was breathtaking, the fluency, the movement and the ruthless intensity all captivating. At other times, we seemed a touch complacent – a consequence, no doubt, of our dominance – as the passing became sloppy in patches, but United never truly threatened and there was always the lingering knowledge that we could step it up a few notches if necessary. One goal in the opening minute, another in the last and in the meantime, we delivered a lesson.

Throughout the side, there were a series of authoritative displays. It would be easy – and justifiable – to direct praise towards all of the players, and choosing the one standout performer was a far trickier challenge than is often the case, but special mention must be given to a quintet of stars.

First of all, the fullbacks. Pablo Zabaleta’s qualities as a warrior, someone whose battling spirit will always drive him forward, typified our commitment at Old Trafford. Defensively, he was robust, nullifying the overlapping threat of Patrice Evra, and despite being floored by the vicious elbow of Marouane Fellaini, the Argentine eagerly thrust down the right to support our attacks. He adopted some tremendous positions in the final third, linked tightly with the ever-menacing Jesus Navas and was the all-round resilient presence we have come to expect.

On the other flank was Gael Clichy, strangely the victim of much criticism this season. The general perception seems to be that he’s suffered a disappointing, hesitant campaign. The reality, however, is that although he endured an uncertain opening month or so, he has recovered very well from that and, one cup game against Wigan aside, has been his usual energetic, dynamic and reliable self. Time and time again yesterday, his speed of thought and fleet of foot enabled him to nip in ahead of the opposition, pinch the ball and start attacks. He doesn’t offer the threat from out wide that Aleks Kolarov’s crossing provides – although he is intelligent in knowing when to deliver the ball into the box and when it’s best just to keep possession and play it safely along the ground to a teammate – but he’s a key cog in our pressing game and a reassuring presence in the back four.

Ahead of those two were the formidable midfield pairing of Fernandinho and Yaya Touré, against whom David Moyes deployed three players to combat the physicality, deftness and control the City duo exert. That plan didn’t last long. With David Silva floating in an untouchable manner in the early exchanges, his intelligent movement and glorious touch enabling him to evade his markers repeatedly, we bossed proceedings. It was relentless. Fernandinho pressed and pressed, intercepted any loose ball, gave it to Yaya and from there, we launched fluid raids at will on United’s beleaguered backline. On the odd occasion, especially in the first half as the home side counter-attacked, there were swathes of empty space in front of our defence and we seemed a touch vulnerable, but that is an unavoidable consequence of the style of football desired by Manuel Pellegrini.

At times in that first half, as our profligate finishing wasted a series of delightful opportunities, it was feared that our lack of clinical touch would come back to haunt us. Yet that would have required a notion of attacking intent from our hosts. And they weren’t that good. In fact, they were abysmal.

Everything we associated with them for years, of grudgingly accepting that they were a fine team, a team who would fight until the end, display character when behind and pour forward in waves of attacks, was absent. Rather than a brash confidence and force of will to see them overcome any obstacle, there was tepidness and refusal. They couldn’t compete us. They didn’t have the power, the skill, the spirit nor the quality. Their manager couldn’t look further out of his depth. With the odd exception, the players are inferior. This was a side who won the title by eleven points last season. Now, they are more than eleven points off the Champions League places and City’s goal difference is larger than United’s point tally. From a feared opponent, they have become a source of great amusement.

This was what it was. A title-challenger, full of purpose, motivation and talent, comfortably brushing aside a mid-table side. It was oddly simple. And it was mightily enjoyable.

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