United's Lyon resurrection an Easter miracle for the ages

When Alexandre Lacazette stroked in ten man Lyon's fourth goal from the penalty spot I was ready to give this all up.
Upset and broken more than ever before, I felt like turning my back and walking out on a club I have loved since I was six. Too much pain, too much heartache, too much angst - it didn't seem worth it any more. I was done. I didn't want to go through this any more. As thousands of United fans headed for the exits, I too stormed out my local pub in a fit of pique to give myself space and to come to terms with one of the most heartbreaking losses I've ever had to suffer. It felt like the end of a lifelong relationship. Thanks for the memories Man Utd, but it's time to say goodbye. I should have known better. Sir Alex Ferguson and the halycon days of yesteryear may be long gone, but sometimes - just sometimes - United conjure those memories. 

Manchester United's Easter miracle

At this time of year Christians throughout the world celebrate the miracle of new life. The miracle of a man rising from the dead to breathe new life into humanity. A saviour sent from above to rid us of sin. 

As this abhorrent collection of wasters stank the place out to snatch defeat from almost certain victory, United needed one such miracle. It seemed not even Jesus could save us. We were, pardon the pun, dead and buried. Yet just when you have seen it all, football finds new ways to make you agape, make you scratch your eyes in wonder - imagine not liking the Beautiful Game. There are people out there who don't like football. From 2-0 up and cruising into the semi finals with 20 minutes to go, to 2-4 down and five minutes away from elimination. There seemed no way back as United were inexplicably pegged back by a Lyon team you would never know were a man down. 

Step forward, Harry Maguire - United's very own Messiah. Just like Jesus, he rose when all seemed lost. Maguire, playing as a makeshift centre-forward, dragged United from the dead to bring us back to life and complete his own personal resurrection. Crucified in the press and the public, Maguire completed one of Manchester United's greatest ever comebacks and his own personal redemption arc. With the purgatory of penalties looming - five weeks on from our FA Cup KO from the spot - Maguire's winner will go down in the annals as one of the most extraordinary ever. Now, Sir Jacob Harry, where would you like the statue? You know the thing? I missed it. I missed the winner. Still in a rage, I had gone home and disconnected. I should have known better really. 

What on earth happened last night...

It's the morning after the night before. I've had four and a half hours sleep, and my head is on three different planets. Even for a club that has 'seen it all and won the lot' this was something just remarkable. Just about every emotion possible - from nerves to joy to anger to heartbreak to renewed hope and absolute hysteria all in the space of 120-odd minutes. Even for a club defined by generational feats of derring do, this was something else. I have never seen, or felt, anything quite like this before. In those eight minutes, United produced something other worldy, a comeback from above. It didn't feel real. Just like Jesus, I feel as though I could walk on water right now. It was a staggering sequence of chaos and carnage from an alternative reality. This club is special. It's nights like this that remind you why you fell in love with it. 

This was only a quarter-final, of course. United's mission is not yet complete. But, dare I say it, is our name on that Europa League trophy? Sometimes as fans you get that feeling. When United beat Liverpool in THAT all timer, and then squeezed out of jail against Coventry in the FA Cup last term, it seemed meant to be. It seemed meant to be we'd go on and beat City in the final. I'm getting the same vibes now. Maybe, just maybe, this is United's year in the Europa League. There is a long way to go and Athletic Bilbao, on the cusp of a final in their home city, will be a difficult challenge. 

He'll turn the Reds around, Ruben Amorim...

Ruben Amorim built a fine body of work at Sporting Lisbon before he was plucked from his homeland to replace Erik ten Hag. But it's no secret he has not been able to do the same at Old Trafford. He speaks and carries himself very well but results have not followed. But this night may prove to be one of those seminal turning points every struggling team and manager needs. If Amorim does go on to scale the heights we saw at Sporting at Old Trafford, we will look back on this victory as the night everything changed. It will be a night the magic started, a night Amorim can look to the spirit and character of his side and start to carve out his chapter in United history. 

In the long and storied annals of European football at our great theatre, Old Trafford has never witnessed a sight and sound like the immediate aftermath of Maguire's winner. 

It was one of our beloved club's greatest ever nights, but it will only matter if we go on to glory in Bilbao...

RIP Old Trafford: you will never be forgotten

Old Trafford, home of United since 1910

There are certain childhood memories you would rather erase and some that stay with you forever.
They say you never forget your first time and, for this humble hack, the day I first laid eyes on her will be etched on my conscience until the day I die.

The day I first fell in love

Clinging to my late uncle's hand as I climbed the steps - which as a six year old seemed to go on forever - I will never forget the sight that greeted me. There, yawning out before me like the Grand Canyon, sat rows upon rows of red seats leading down to the edge of the pristine carpet and the sporting world's most iconic patch of turf. On that very patch of grass were the eleven men I would follow through thick and thin over the next 27 years. It was a cathedral of football fit for greatness. Even to my innocent, six-year-old eyes, you could smell the history and tradition. Honour and glory at every turn. And so, a lifelong love affair began. 

This was Old Trafford. It was a place I would return to a few times a season over the next quarter of a century. The iconic, historic home of Manchester United. Our Manchester United. A place were dreams come true, legends are made, sporting heroes immortalised. A place for us mere mortals to escape surrounded by people with a common cause: to roar on the Reds at a place we called home. For Old Trafford is more than just the bricks-and-mortar dwelling of a football club. It is synonymous with the famous name of our once great club - from the bombs of World War II, to the tragedy of Munich and the triumphs and tribulations of magisterial managers Sirs Matt and Alex. 

Old Trafford 1910 - 2031 (approx)

A place known throughout the world for dramatic, logic-defying last gaps acts of derring do by a collection of some of the greatest exponents of their craft the game has ever seen. 

But now, Old Trafford's epitaph is written. For me and millions of other who have made the pilgrimage to follow our beloved team at our great theatre, it is indeed a sad day. 114 years of history gone in the blink of an eye . It was truly one of those moments where everyone remembers where they were when the news came through. 7/7, 9/11 and the day the Queen died (for the record, I was in a Wetherspoon's in Belfast). Add to that now the 11th March 2025: the day the sands of time ran out for one of the English game's grandest stages. 

There is no doubt the stadium I first set eyes upon all those years ago is no longer fit for purpose. It was once the envy of the world, but now it is an ageing relic pickled in aspic. A leaking roof, the crumbling concrete, the cramped turnstiles and uncomfortable seats. Old Trafford has fallen into disrepair, left to rot as the Glazers have counted their millions in absentia across the pond. 

Yet, strangely, it's shortcomings is why we all love it so much. It may have become a bit of dump, but it was our dump. A dump that meant so much to so many, me included. It's precisely because it was falling apart that made it unique. Nowhere else do you feel that sense of history and prestige. The statues, the homage to Munich, the stadium homing into view as you walk up Sir Matt Busby Way. 

Soon, though, it will be no more: consigned to the annals of history as United set up shop on the same site but with a new 100k-seater stadium, as per BBC Sport. Probably called the Great INEOS Soccer Stage or some other horrible moniker. I hope I'm wrong but it's going to be soulless and the average man of the street simply will not be able to afford a ticket. It feels like the very essence of Manchester United is slowly being stripped away, brick by brick.

A lifetime of memories 

The proposed interior of United's new ground 

I understand nothing lasts forever and the ground was out-dated and in need of either re-development or rebuilding. The cost of the former was probably too great and so INEOS and Sir Jim Ratcliffe opted for the latter. To move on, you have to let go of the past. Everton will soon get a new stadium, Tottenham's White Hart Lance was bulldozed and their new abode built on it. Anfield has been renovated - Old Trafford was existing in a time warp. They wanted a stadium befitting for a club of United's stature, something the north doesn't have, and this is the result. 

I will never forget the memories of our famous old stadium. From that very first game back in 1997 to Amad's winner almost exactly a year ago, it has been a huge part of my life. It is time to leave our home behind and, in truth, it's probably for the best, but it is a wrench letting go of something you hold so dear. It's a time for new history to be made, to move forward into a new era with a ground which will be the envy of the world once again. 

The longer lasting questions (what's the timeframe, who will pay for the ground, what will happen to the Munich clock, tunnel and the statues and where we will play in the meantime) can wait for another day. For now, whilst looking forward is always exciting, there is a sense of loss, of sadness, of the end of something. Part of my life has been taken away. 

Farewell Old Trafford and thanks for the memories. We will miss you and love you forever. 

Struggling Hojlund toils as goal drought goes on

Sunday’s two FA Cup ties proved a tale of two strikers as Danny Welbeck flourished where Rasmus Hojlund floundered.

Welbeck, a man once deemed as not good enough by United, fired his Brighton side into the quarter finals with a stunning breakaway finish deep into extra-time at St James Park. It was his eighth goal of the season, one more than United’s £72m man who has now gone three months without one.

A three-month, eighteen game goal drought amounting to over 1,000 minutes is an extraordinary barren spell for any centre-forward. Let alone a striker leading the line in the Premier League for one of the most famous names in football. But it’s not just the lack of goals as even the very best strikers can have fallow spells – Robin van Persie once went thirteen matches without finding the net.

It’s not as if Hojlund is doing everything right except scoring. It’s not as if he’s peppering the opposition keeper and upright, and only bad luck is keeping him out. He’s not even showing the basics of centre-forward play right now: holding the ball up, making runs, unlocking a defence with a silky piece of skill, or getting in a good position for an assist or goal. He isn’t occupying the centre backs to create space for others. He is so far below what you’d expect from even the most rudimentary of strikers in a lower league side, it is almost like United are playing with ten men.

Rasmus isn’t the only one toiling: Alejandro Garnacho hasn’t scored since Bodo/Glimt in November and Joshua Zirkzee has two goals since December. It’s a sorry state of affairs for United’s soporific strike force and our 33 league goals is the sixth lowest in the league. Only the bottom three clubs, Everton and West Ham have scored fewer. 

But at least Messrs Garnacho and Zirkzee are impacting games, and contributing to the team. Garnacho makes things happen and Zirkzee’s unique skillset is an asset to the side. Even when they’re not scoring, strikers can still influence a game and make a difference. The same cannot be said of Hojlund who has looked bereft of confidence and belief.

Last term was Hojlund’s first at Old Trafford following his move from Atalanta. His 16 goals in 43 games was a decent return for a young striker on his own up front in a system where he was continually starved of service. But the promise of that debut season has gradually eviscerated, to the point where his future at United is already looking uncertain. Hojlund only had one shot – an effort wide of the post from a Christian Eriksen cross – and struggled to make an impact.

Of course, he has time on his side. He has only just turned 22 and most strikers don’t peak until their mid-to-late 20s so his best years are still ahead of him.

No disrespect to Welbeck but the fact a 34-year-old who left United eleven years ago would be our best striker in 2025 is both embarrassing and damning. He is outperforming Hojlund in every metric and would walk back into our team. I would take a 50-something Andy Cole right now.

So is Hojlund the reason for Manchester United’s struggles, or the victim of it?

With United chasing an equaliser against Fulham, Ruben Amorim turned to 17-year-old Chido Obi Martin with Hojlund withdrawn after 68 minutes of next to nothing. Obi offered more in his cameo appearance than Hojlund has for weeks. It it beginning to appear as though Amorim himself is losing faith in a player he inherited, even if the Portuguese manager has publicly backed him. 

There can be sympathy for the Dane: service was again at a premium with United’s depleted ranks missing the cut and thrust of the injured Amad and loaned out Marcus Rashford. Noussair Mazraoui and Diogo Dalot, full-backs moonlighting in wing-back roles, provided no attacking threat whatsoever. Any striker in world football would struggle in this United side.

Hojlund has averaged 1.5 shots per game over the season and just 3.5 touches in the opposition penalty area. There is nowhere to hide and no rotation option; Obi Martin isn’t ready to start regularly and has not been registered for Europe.

But too often, Hojlund allowed himself to be bullied by compatriot Joachim Andersen and centre-back partner Calvin Bassey.  There is no denying his effort and work rate but it was far too easy for Fulham to defend against.
United signed Hojlund as a player for the future. The powers-that-be were convinced he would become a world class striker in the mould of Erling Haaland. He has not fulfilled that and has shown only glimpses of his pace and power – his confidence now looks shattered.

Hojlund’s last Premier League goal came against Nottingham Forest on December 7^th. Five days later he stepped off the bench to strike twice in Europe against Plzen and has not found the net since. Five of his seven goals have come in the Europa League with only two on the home front.

He never looked like getting in a position to score against Fulham and is not the type of player to drop deep and get involved as Welbeck does, starting many of Brighton’s attacks from deep.
Hojlund is getting no help from the rest of the squad as they struggle with their own pressures and problems. He needs an experienced arm around the shoulder like he would if he was playing in the side of Roy Keane, Gary Neville and Paul Scholes et al.

As his team-mates collectively continue to toil, Hojlund's individual malaise has become a huge worry for Amorim's United. 

INEOS are a disgrace: I'm raging at this club's criminal negligence (RANT)

When news of Amad Diallo's season ending injury broke on early Saturday evening I finally reached boiling point. I had to write this just to get it all off my chest. 

The one Manchester United player to emerge from this car crash season with a modicum of credit - the one man keeping our heads bobbing above the waterline - will play no further part in it. I don't think we will win another game this season now. United's attack for the last three months of the season consists of Alejandro Garnacho and very little else. We're doomed, we're screwed and we're more f****d than Lily Phillips. 

And it's all down to INEOS. All down to United's minority ownership who have somehow become more unpopular than the Glazers. Little more than a year since taking over, how has it come to this? 

I can't take this any more. How many more times do us fans have to suffer Manchester United lurching from one catastrophe to another? When is it gonna end? I don't want to do this anymore. As ABBA once sang: "I was angry and sad at the things that you do."

Defeat at Tottenham tomorrow will be the final straw. Something is getting broken. This club is a social experiment to see how much pain a man can experience. 

Has there ever been a new ownership regime that has turned so toxic so quickly. Sir Jim Ratcliffe and his board were meant to usher in an exciting new era in lieu of the leeching, apathetic Glazers, but instead things have gone backwards. I didn't think it would be humanly possible to find a regime worse than what came before. They sold us a dream but instead have us locked in a never-ending nightmare. They took over the club on a wave of goodwill because they aren't the Glazers but that's a distant memory now. 

Amad's injury is a devastating blow to what's left of United's season. Of course it had to be our best player this season, the one man opponents are wary of and the one player who makes things happen every time he goes forward. 

Of course INEOS couldn't have foreseen this. They are not to blame for the injury itself. But they are very much responsible for the resultant mess we now find ourselves in. They got rid of Antony, they shipped out Marcus Rashford, they chose to get no one in. Whatever your thoughts on the respective merits of those two players, surely it's better to have them in the squad than out on loan. Why get rid of them if you know no one is coming in? We're weaker than we were five weeks ago. They thought that was acceptable? They thought having ONE attacker was in the club's best interests. They really felt what we had was up to standards? Very good to know they were 'relaxed' about all this, though. 

Great to know Sir Jim sleeps well at night knowing the chaos he has caused. He and his little minions stand on the brink of causing the collapse of the biggest sporting institution in history. I hope they're proud of themselves. 

It's backfired after two weeks - years of squad building have led to this. It serves every single person involved in the process right for these disastrous decisions time and time again, a self-serving ownership with no plan, no clue and no ambition. No longer able to hide behind the club's financial clout, that well has now run dry and has come back to haunt us. No left sided centre back for the rest of the season, no midfield for tomorrow and now no Amad. End the season now and put us all out of our misery. 

Lisandro Martinez last week, Amad today. Add to that Manuel Ugarte, Kobbie Mainoo and Toby Collyer and an already thin squad is threadbare. Sack the medical staff, get all of them gone. But no, ol' Jim is too busy laying off cleaners, receptionists, office workers, shop staff and members of the catering team to worry about the real problem. 

 

It's criminal. It's abhorrent, it is negligent. Fail to prepare. Prepare to fail. No planning, no back up, no intention to even try and strengthen an area in desperate need of reinforcements. They've sold Ruben Amorim down the water. I wouldn't blame him if he said f**k you all and resigns tonight. 

How dare they bring him in mid season with a squad he doesn't want and give him no money to spend. How dare they set him up to fail. Just like we did with David Moyes, Louis van Gaal, Jose Mourinho and Ole Gunnar Solskjaer.

Amorim's got nothing to work with and has no choice but to throw some of the Academy kids on the fire and hope they don't burn. It's like going in to the site of a forest fire armed with a water pistol. I'm absolutely fuming, in fact I have never been more angry at a regime in my life. 

What have we done to deserve this? What are these wasters doing in training to cause these injuries - we've had nine days off yet are dropping like flies with four players injured in key positions. It never stops pouring with rain at United. Pouring with rain through the gaping hole in the Old Trafford roof. 

United's season is over, we're in the gutter and there's no way out. I am done. 

Manchester United: For the eternal love, not the glory

As Jean-Philippe Mateta turned our Sunday afternoon sour en route to another defeat, one word came to the fore: dedication. 

United vs Crystal Palace 

There wasn't much difference between the sides but Mateta's brace, in stark contrast to the struggles of our own soporific strikeforce, provided visiting Palace with the most precious currency of all. 

Watching from high up in the Stretford End, that feeling of resentment, of anger, the feeling that I don't want to do this any more, didn't last long. That feeling that you can't wait until the next time - despite the lows, and the lets downs, soon takes over. You do it because you can't let go. Just like in any other relationship, you're too emotionally invested. 

It got me thinking: everyone here has their own story to tell. A tale of how they came to be here, not just at this moment, but in life. Choosing to support this club. Each one of these 70,000+ people, every single one from a different walk of life, here for the same reason: united (pun intended) for a common cause. 

It matters too much to just throw it all aside. Right now, I'm disappointed, even apathetic, but in a few days, I will love this team again. I will be back in my jersey on Friday, willing the team on (this time from home) as we bid to make the FA Cup fifth round. United were my first love, and I will not stop. 

In the week United commemorate the 67th anniversary of the Munich disaster, there is a light that never goes out. United rose again after losing an entire team - set against that context, our current issues suddenly don't seem all that important. Manchester United will, like we did under Sir Matt Busby and Jimmy Murphy, come again. Where and when, we don't know, but we will be there. Better days are just around the corner. 

It may sometimes feel like it's not worth it, but in a few days you reset and go again. Your support is everlasting, undying, unrelenting. Through thick and thin - indeed, it's at times like this the club needs us, more than ever. It's easy to support when times are good. It's when times are bad your loyalty and love for your club is tested. 

That feeling that we are all so used to now - one of crushing disappointment - is expected at every turn, but is never any easier to take when the inevitable happens. As a wise man once said, it's the hope that kills you. 

I travelled over 300 miles to be at Old Trafford yesterday. The lad I went to the game with had to be up at 4am on Monday for his flight back to Ireland. There were no doubt countless others with similar tales of dedication. 
It makes you wonder if all this hurts the players as much as it does us. For them, it is just a job. A way of earning an (extremely lucrative) living. They still get their pay cheque at the end of the week. 

For us, it is our lives. It is not just an emotional investment. It is a financial one. We take time out of our cherished weekends - leaving our families and friends behind - to watch this club play. Hours of our lives given up to watch Manchester United: for some, it is almost a full time commitment in all four corners of the globe. I have heard of occasions where dedication for the club has cost marriages. 

As the eponymous James sung in his hit ' Sit Down', if I hadn't seen such riches, I could live with being poor. First released in 1989, it feels even more appropriate today. 

The manager is right: this surely IS the worst side in United history

When Ruben Amorim declared this Manchester United side as 'maybe the worst ever' in the aftermath of the Brighton loss, few will have disagreed.
Congratulations to Erik ten Hag, John Murtough and the merry band of men in the corridors of power for assembling surely the worst collection of 'players' (I'm using the term loosely) in the 147-year history of our club.
Yes, United have been relegated before - five times in fact in 1893-94, 1921-22, 1930-31, 1936-37 and, perhaps most famously, only six years after becoming champions of Europe, in 1974. Football began before 1992 and United have spent most of that time in the doldrums. 

The relegation team puts this side to shame

But those teams did not have 600m spent on them. Those sides did not have international players stacked in every position. A United side in those days did not carry the same weight as sides from this era. Back then, United were nowhere near the global superpower they are now and football's hierarchy was different. Sides came and went between divisions more regularly. 

I had not graced the world with my presence yet back in 1974, but I know people that did and the general consensus is this: that side, relegated into Division Two under Tommy Docherty, was better than this current incarnate. 

United lost 20 league games that season (we've already lost ten this time), 16 of them by a single goal. There were 15 draws with seven of them goalless. The team were competitive, it had a backbone and went down fighting  - none of which can be attributed to the vintage of 2024/25.  It just lacked a goalscorer with star man George Best ageing and AWOL. It was a young team with an average age of 25 and would have survived had today's three-points-for-a win system been implemented. Sammy McIlroy's six goals put him at the top of United's goalscoring charts and laid bare that team's main shortcoming. 

The team rebuilt with style and vivacity in the second tier to bounce back at the first opportunity and evolved into one challenging at the upper echelons of the game, almost winning the First Division. 

51 years on and the prospect of United playing Championship football next season remains a mathematical, if remote, possibility. This is a side breaking all sorts of records of the unwanted kind. We've lost six of our opening 12 league games for the first time since the 1890s and only 13 other United sides have a lower points tally at this stage of a season. We've conceded the opening goal in our last five matches at Old Trafford and have lost 10 of our 22 league games - hitting double figures for losses the earliest in a season since 1989-90. 

Stealing a living

Barring the generational talent of the brilliant Amad and the workaholic Manuel Ugarte, this mob are, to put it politely, a disgrace. How a side can go from almost toppling Liverpool at Anfield and knocking Arsenal out of the cup with ten men to what we saw against Southampton and Brighton is baffling. It's not an issue if a team is inconsistent for a time, but it becomes one when players pick and choose when to turn the light on. 

Whilst many of these players are simply not 'it' - an abhorrent and ragtag collection of not-good-enoughs, has-beens and never-weres, their mentality and attitude is disgusting. The collective mental ability of a United side has never been worse. Most of them wouldn't get anywhere near the bench of a team in the bottom half of League One. Internationals they may be, but that does not make them any good - none of them have ever won a bean but have the egos and inflated salaries of serial winners. 

A few can be exonerated. Leny Yoro's United career remains in its fledgling infancy and it is harsh to throw him on the scrapheap. Kobbie Mainoo has yet to hit the metronomic heights of his stunning debut season but a 19-year old just coming back from injury into a sea of mediocrity hardly resembles the biggest problem.

Joshua Zirkzee does a difficult job to the best of his (limited) ability but might as well be in the stands with the spectators such is the chronic lack of any cohesion whatsoever. You can have the best car money can buy but if the engine is broken, it won't get you anywhere. 

Ruben Amorim being thrown to the wolves

You have to feel for Ruben Amorim - United's new head coach parachuted in from Portugal tasked with refloating a sinking ship. He has none of his own players, no money to spend and a group of wasters that don't want to improve. United's penny pinching owners have not given him the tools to succeed - it is akin to sending a solider into a warzone armed with a Mini Cooper and a water pistol. He wanted to take the job in the summer but United said it was now or never. We have the right man in charge and have to get behind him now. This mess is not of his own making and he should be applauded for telling it like it is. I like the fact we've got a manager not afraid to speak the truth and maybe upset a few  - a far cry from the toeing-the-line approach of Ole Gunnar Solskjaer, or the lost-in-translation waffle of ten Hag. These players have had it too easy for too long 

Throw in the fact we've not had a left-back for two years, a pair of young strikers that can't score goals and a 50m goalkeeper who couldn't catch a bus and there you have it: uncoachable charlatans with not an ounce of pride or honour between them. 

I hope Amorim doesn't change his system, as that would show weakness of his behalf and is an easy way out for these wasters stealing a living as elite footballers. The very reason for bringing Amorim in was because INEOS liked his style, so suddenly changing it makes no sense and it's not like this lot were any good in any other formation or system anyway. 
He was making sure that everyone knows rebuilding United will take years. There is no quick fix if you want to actually get it right. The squad looks horribly unbalanced with gaping holes in major positions and that will take time and several transfer windows to repair. 

Honesty is the best policy

Any United player with a more robust backbone than a jellyfish will take Amorim's hurty words to heart and set out to prove him wrong. 
Any United player who feels upset (poor little mites) by their manager's comments is welcome to hand back the exorbitant wages most of them have pilfered with impunity for two win in ten league games. 
And any United player who dares to murmur a word of dissent - either in the dressing room or on social media, the press, TV or radio, is cordially invited to hand in a transfer request and f**k right off. 

The biggest tell will be how the players respond to what amounts to insulting them in public. Amorim's comments are not a Jose-Mourinho like calling out of his players, but they surely must illicit some kind of respond from deep inside. It is a risk and a calculated one, and done without malice, but could prove costly no matter how much the club want to stick by him. Or it could be the catalyst for change. 

Manchester United channel the spirit of Labi Siffre

 'The higher you build your barriers, the taller I become' .

Not so much the lyrics to a song by 1980s lyricist Labi Siffre, more Manchester United's modus operandi at the Emirates yesterday.

'The further you take my rights away, the faster I will run'. It is a song about going the extra mile, standing up for yourselves and overcoming all that is thrown at you. While the lyrics were largely written about the atrocious apartheid regime in South Africa, they can equally be applied to anyone needing inspiration to overcome adversity.

And it was adversity of an almost impossible nature that Manchester United found themselves facing after an hour of this storming FA Cup third rounder. Diogo Dalot was sent from the field by a referee who couldn't wait to do so, and so the barrier was built. From then on, it was backs to the ball as United dug out a performance of resilience and courage for the ages. 

Man Utd celebrate penalty win

As Kelly Clarkson once sang, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. 

And how the depleted ranks of the ten Manchester United heroes in dark blue stood tall. They dug deeper than they've ever had to dig before. Roared on magnificently by the 8,000 travelling fans, there was no quarter given, every blade of grass covered by a much-criticised group of players whom, this time, looked like they'd rather die than lose this cup tie. Just watching on from home, it was inspiring and uplifting as those players out there refused to be beaten, refused to give in. I was proud of our boys spirit, fight, guts, courage and sheer bloody mindedness. They put their bodies on the line, their hearts and soul and every last drop of energy they had into that match. 

How many times have we been able to say that of late? Now we have said it for two weeks on the spin. 

They did indeed find Something Inside. Something Inside so Strong. For all the wave of anger and ill-feeling directed towards this squad of late, how nice is it to sit here and heap praise upon them? Every single player deserves massive credit, oodles of praise and a round of applause for a performance to remember. Our reward is a fourth round tie at home to Leicester City. Who knows now where this season will go now? We still languish in the bottom half of the league table but are going strong in two cup competitions. We will not give up this defence of our FA Cup trophy without a fight. 

Marshalled monstrously by Messrs Matthijs, Maguire and Martinez at the back, United were immense. In midfield, Manuel Ugarte added the latest exhibit to his growing collection of masterpieces. Back up goalkeeper Altay Bayindir hardly covered himself in glory last time he played in north London, but became inspired here. He should have perhaps done better with the Arsenal opener, but saved Martin Odegaard's penalty and then kept out the decisive spot-kick in the shootout. Captain Bruno capped another totemic performance with a brilliant goal and there were magnificent performances everywhere you looked. 

Away from home against eleven Arsenal players and a corrupt referee who was paid off to knock us out, justice was done. A lesson, folks, that cheats never prosper. 

Not so long ago, United would have crumbled after Dalot's sending off, but here it only seemed to spur us on. Was it pretty? No, but there is more than one way to skin a cat - or win a football match. We were forced into the trenches after the sending off but emerged triumphant on the other side. 

Altay Bayindir became an unlikely hero

You don't get a result against this Arsenal side - a side existing at the upper echelons of English football as Man City's cheek-by-jowel challengers - without every player proving his worth. Toby Collyer, the latest product of the Carrington conveyor belt, caught the eye off the bench. The much malinged Joshua Zirkzee almost scored in extra-time and then did score his penalty. He may still not turn out to be good enough for this club, but whatever happens, he will always have that moment.

Just as it did at Anfield, United's gameplan bore the fruits of another full week of training under the tutelage of Ruben Amorim. We have now beaten City and Arsenal and got a draw at Liverpool. Slowly but surely, the cocoon of Amorim's United is beginning to emerge, blinking into the sunlight. 

More than that, we've got those results with a clear gameplan and an identifiable style. 

You felt everything was against us this weekend: we conveniently got the hardest possible FA Cup draw and then, as if this wasn't enough, had a ref just as bad. We cover that here. But I don't want to dwell on that. I want to celebrate and enjoy my team achieving something special. Oh and enjoy the meltdown from those planks on a certain YouTube channel. UTFR!!