Same Old Trafford. Always Losing
Well I guess the first thing is to mention the news that Luka Modric’s been declared unavailable for tonight’s trip to Old Trafford, as his head isn’t in the right place. According to ‘Arry via the wireless yesterday evening. Quite why no-one hasn’t told the wee Croatian that it’ll probably be attached to the spindly bit of flesh between his shoulders where he left it, one can only speculate. These bloody foreign-types, eh?
The concern for many is what effect this nonsense might be having on the rest of the camp. This brand of heel-dragging is not exactly new to us; The Great Bulgarian Sulk of 2008 is still garden-fresh in the memory and there’s no reason to believe Modric will be the last of his kind. A rebel without a clause. Just a gentleman’s agreement and considerably less humility than we might have first thought. The sh*t.
Still, moving on. As mentioned we’re up to the poor half of Manchester this evening; a belated season opener at the (in no way pretentiously named) Theatre of Dreams. A place where our record not so much speaks for itself, as whispers something half-heartedly about not having the best of luck with referees and Pedro Mendes woz robbed. Spurs have an abysmal CV against United. The last time we beat them at Old Trafford the War of the Roses raged on in the background. Don’t bother checking the facts. I didn’t.
So what will be different about tonight, I hear you ask? Well, no surprises here, that very much depends on those that turn up and what course of action they decide to take when the inevitable happens and United get a decision go there way or we make a monumental balls-up. It’s about how we respond. Whether we decide to buy into talk of hoodoos, conspiracies and mental flimsiness. Or whether, instead, we think we might fancy taking something home from this fixture. Something more than just that familiar feeling of being schooled by Sir Alex’s lot.
Do that and we’ve got half a chance. COYS!