gvilla1-blog - Tumblr blog

[gvilla1-blog]

MUN 2-2 LEE: A Vertical Slice of Life Under ten Hag

…Low to De Gea's near post and it flies straight through his hands and intothe bottom corner. 1-0 Brentford.

A pout, an exasperated crossing of the arms. A wincing usually characteristic of a poor, beaten canine who beared witness to a raised fist.

It was at this point, a mere 100 or so minutes into the 2022-23 Premier League Season, that I was ready for the towel to be thrown. I‘d take my ball and go home, numb after the frustrations a ten year epoch of darkness following the retirement of Sir Alex Ferguson had brought on. I had heard this bothersome tune before under Moyes, Van Gaal, Mourinho, and finally Ole. As sterile City and Lilliputian Liverpool claimed trophies like Larry King claimed spouses, we languished in mediocrity. Last season felt like the the last bout of a once-mighty fighter‘s career; the fight that’d driven them to flee the arena they once dominated out of sheer embarrassment, not to mention a touch of brain damage.

What followed felt like football’s answer to the Shinkansen: in what felt like moments, the scenery changed at blinding pace. In the blink of an eye, we were so far from where we had boarded. And the bullet train conductor was none other than the Vibing Dutchman, Erik ten Hag.

MUN 2-1 LIV. Casemiro. MNU 3-1 ARS. Casemiro. MUN 2-0 TOT. Casemiro’s header to equalize at Stamford Bridge. Garnacho accelerating past Fulham’s defense to deliver the killing blow at Craven Cottage. Rashford unlocking the Ultra Instinct. Casemiro. Ripping out the mean blue hearts of our noisy neighbors, 2-1. Casemiro. Old Trafford a fortress once more. Casemiro. CASEMIRO. CASEMIRO!

The highs remind us of what the sun felt like on our pale, downtrodden faces. They reminded us that football is about passion, bringing out the best in oneself, and most essentially: it’s fun.

But could it be possible that, instead of watching this hero‘s journey through until its natural end, when the ring is thrown into the fires of Mount Doom, when the young Jedi resists the dark side and defeats the evil emperor, we might have wanted the protagonist to become the Legend before it was earned? Was winning the league ever really supposed to happen this year?

Ten Hag has done so much in so little time because he’s instilled a very tangible sense of standards among this squad. They press cohesively, like a white blood cell surrounding and obliterating a harmful foreign substance. The center-halves, Licha and Varane, have the same rabid intensity and methodical coolness (respectively) that we saw during the halcyon days of Vidic and Ferdinand and sadly took for granted. The midfield takes bold steps toward the penalty box and creates chances instead of a constant rotation of metronomic sideways passes. And our attackers finish those chances! Imagine that.

But Wednesday night versus Leeds showed us that there is much left in the hourglass of our hero’s journey. We lack quality and depth in midfield, our attackers aside from Rashford are inconsistent, and our goalkeeper, once the lone bright spot of a floundering club, has reached obsolescence in the modern game.

The shortcomings ring a louder bell, but there are positives to be found. Our spirit was bruised and battered at 2-0, but we showed grit and determination as we scored two in quick succession to equal their total. And that second goal, the one that sent the Stretford End into an animalistic fury, was from our star boy, Jadon Sancho, returning from a long hiatus masterminded by ten Hag. Of the many pieces of evidence to be used in the Court of Man Management, such as the handling of the Ronaldo Debacle, Garnacho’s habitual tardiness, and Luke Shaw’s wavering motivation on the pitch and in the kitchen, there is perhaps no greater show of ten Hag’s skill in dealing with these volatile personalities than his rehabilitation of Sancho. He seems a man made new, with a confidence that can highlight the natural flair and calm lethality in his game that we hope can continue for many years.

Wednesday night was a microcosm of the season so far. Many shortcomings that hopefully only take a summer to resolve. But many positives that ought to have Reds from all four corners of the world delighted for the daylight shining through the thick canopy of Liverpool and City success.

We are impressive. Most impressive. But we are not Jedi yet.