Slipperduke
The Camden Cad
The stage is now set for what we can confidently call, without any fear of exaggeration, the most important English club football match in history. Manchester United's hard-fought progression to the European Cup Final means that, whatever happens tonight, it will be an all-Premier League affair in Moscow. The Russian police force must be absolutely delighted with that news.
Barcelona had more shots and enjoyed the lion's share of the ball, but they were never quite able to convert their posession into clear-cut chances. Thierry Henry twice squirmed his way in on goal, but on both occasions the ball flew at Edwin van der Sar like a pin to a magnet. Deco missed as well, once over and once wide, while all the genius of Lionel Messi went to waste as his team-mates failed to make the best of his impish runs and through-balls. Barcelona were beaten, fairly and squarely, by the better team.
It was fitting that the crucial goal, the strike that took United to their first European final for nine years, was crashed home by the man who missed that historic night at the Camp Nou in 1999 through suspension. When Gianluca Zambrotta's reckless blind pass fell at Scholes' feet, you knew instantly where the ball was going to end up. Victor Valdes would have had more luck trying to catch a comet.
"He's one of our great players," said a jubilant Sir Alex Ferguson after the final whistle. "He's come through the ranks, he knows the club inside out."
"Will he be the first name on the team-sheet in Moscow?" asked a reporter.
"Absolutely!" beamed Ferguson.
But as wonderful as Scholes' thunderbolt was, this was not a victory won through superior firepower. Since Nemanja Vidic began to fall apart at the seams, the common consensus has been that Wes Brown is a substandard replacement. Not this time, he wasn't. The English defender, more accustomed to the role of full-back, was a mountain at the back, making two critical late challenges as Barcelona pressed forward in desperation. Next to him, Rio Ferdinand was equally magnificent. Time and time again the Catalans poured forward, strikers zipping this way and that, frantically trying to find an inch or two of space, but always ending up on the wrong side of an impregnable red wall.
Barcelona were beautiful in everything they did, but as Arsenal found out this season, it's an attribute that's only skin-deep. United had more desire, more fight, more hunger for that trip to Moscow. Carlos Tevez, in particular, pounded across the pitch all night, hurling himself into challenges and tearing back into his own half to deny Barcelona the time they needed on the ball. He wasn't alone. Cristiano Ronaldo played his heart out for the team, even if he wasn't able to deliver the goal that he'd promised as penance for his spot-kick miss. Owen Hargreaves kept Andres Iniesta in his pocket. Ji-Sung Park fought valiantly to create chances. For the Catalans, only Carlos Puyol, Yaya Toure and Messi can be truly satisfied with their contributions.
"I can't put it into words," gasped an exhausted Ferdinand at full-time. "We had to dig in deep, we stayed together and we're there now. We don't care who it is. We're waiting for whoever comes."
The identity of their opponents will be revealed later tonight at Stamford Bridge, but whether it's Chelsea or Liverpool, one thing is abundantly clear. Manchester United are back.
Barcelona had more shots and enjoyed the lion's share of the ball, but they were never quite able to convert their posession into clear-cut chances. Thierry Henry twice squirmed his way in on goal, but on both occasions the ball flew at Edwin van der Sar like a pin to a magnet. Deco missed as well, once over and once wide, while all the genius of Lionel Messi went to waste as his team-mates failed to make the best of his impish runs and through-balls. Barcelona were beaten, fairly and squarely, by the better team.
It was fitting that the crucial goal, the strike that took United to their first European final for nine years, was crashed home by the man who missed that historic night at the Camp Nou in 1999 through suspension. When Gianluca Zambrotta's reckless blind pass fell at Scholes' feet, you knew instantly where the ball was going to end up. Victor Valdes would have had more luck trying to catch a comet.
"He's one of our great players," said a jubilant Sir Alex Ferguson after the final whistle. "He's come through the ranks, he knows the club inside out."
"Will he be the first name on the team-sheet in Moscow?" asked a reporter.
"Absolutely!" beamed Ferguson.
But as wonderful as Scholes' thunderbolt was, this was not a victory won through superior firepower. Since Nemanja Vidic began to fall apart at the seams, the common consensus has been that Wes Brown is a substandard replacement. Not this time, he wasn't. The English defender, more accustomed to the role of full-back, was a mountain at the back, making two critical late challenges as Barcelona pressed forward in desperation. Next to him, Rio Ferdinand was equally magnificent. Time and time again the Catalans poured forward, strikers zipping this way and that, frantically trying to find an inch or two of space, but always ending up on the wrong side of an impregnable red wall.
Barcelona were beautiful in everything they did, but as Arsenal found out this season, it's an attribute that's only skin-deep. United had more desire, more fight, more hunger for that trip to Moscow. Carlos Tevez, in particular, pounded across the pitch all night, hurling himself into challenges and tearing back into his own half to deny Barcelona the time they needed on the ball. He wasn't alone. Cristiano Ronaldo played his heart out for the team, even if he wasn't able to deliver the goal that he'd promised as penance for his spot-kick miss. Owen Hargreaves kept Andres Iniesta in his pocket. Ji-Sung Park fought valiantly to create chances. For the Catalans, only Carlos Puyol, Yaya Toure and Messi can be truly satisfied with their contributions.
"I can't put it into words," gasped an exhausted Ferdinand at full-time. "We had to dig in deep, we stayed together and we're there now. We don't care who it is. We're waiting for whoever comes."
The identity of their opponents will be revealed later tonight at Stamford Bridge, but whether it's Chelsea or Liverpool, one thing is abundantly clear. Manchester United are back.