The League Cup Final!

MANCHESTER UNITED v TOTTENHAM HOTSPUR v EASTENDERS v A LIFE IN THE COUNTRY
Click to see our latest two footed tackle… ouch!

The League Cup is inglorious business these days, eking out a grubby existence in the shallows of satellite TV, dallying about on the same rung as Formula 3 pay-per-views and hotel porn. Still, a final’s a final, and as a nation fumbled to upgrade its Sky package moments before kick-off, to support the tournament in what Peter Drury called its “ongoing battle for prominence” (Licence to Kill was but the click of a button away), the stage was set. Who would prevail? United, who – like most of the audience – seemed to have arrived at the final by accident, or holders Spurs, determined to have another crack at being dumped out the UEFA Cup by some monobrowed communists?

The smart money, obviously, was on United, who summoned enough players to their starting XI to win at a canter, and just get the whole embarrassing business out of the way. Although it’s hard to truly consider Spurs an underdog in anything, what with that relentless self-importance. To me, Spurs are the top-hatted man in silent films; aspirational and snooty, but doomed to a figurative snowballing every time, humiliation and despondency, always knocked from their perch.

They actually made a pretty decent fist of it. United, though, are purring through their season with that same inexorable momentum of the ’99 vintage. A perfect storm of craft, guile, bottle and panache. There’s a disquieting humility to them, too, as Liverpool, Chelsea and Arsenal continue to undermine themselves on and off the pitch. The quintuple, I reckon, is beyond them: there’s too many hurdles left in the FA Cup for tired legs, and Liverpool look set to trudge their workmanlike way to yet another Champions League final.

Spurs came out of the game with great credit… but did they woo Harry Redknapp with the contractual stipulation that his name prefix all mentions of the club? I mean, there are a lot of people – media types, mainly – who quite like Harry, ruddy-faced, straight-shootin’ chaplain for the old school that he is. And granted, his Professional Cockney shtick is quite seductive. You might, though, be just as inclined to consider him a remorselessly fickle, buck-passing shyster, hoovering up pay-days with all the trembling, mercenary zeal of Tony Montana in Scarface. In his post-match interview, he did what he does best, moving swiftly to address the most pertinent issue in his team’s defeat; namely, that it wasn’t his fault. “There’s injuries, there’s fatigue – we’ve spent all our resources,” he whimpered, of his depleted 37-man, £83m squad. “And I have to be honest, we were not that confident with our penalty takers.” This, after David Bentley had spannered his kick wide. Or, as he’s known in football circles, £15m David Bentley.

I’ll close with a word of advice to the FA for next year; the League Cup’s just not what it used to be, there’s a lot of prime-time competition, so try synchronising it with a powerful, live-action episode of Eastenders. TV gold.

Click on the image for our latest two footed tackle… ouch!