epl: manchester united v manchester city (4-3)
well little mikey saved the day. and what a glorious day it was. many superfluous tags of the game are being lofted about like a nerf ball at a 3rd grade recess; ‘best derby ever,’ ‘greatest injury time spectacle 4eva,’ ‘best 97th minute goal sure to enrage both man city and liverpool fans in one broad stroke.’
yes, those are all accurate.
the pub was rollicking on sunday at 830 am. busy, but not overflowing. seats available, lights off. i had a match of my own later in the day so i abstained on the alcohol and started out with a large orange juice followed by many ice waters. this, of course, did not stop those around me from hitting the sweet juice hard.
the match was a display of horrid defensive mistakes (ben foster and rio, i’m looking at you).
my feelings were mixed as one carlos tevez (rip) returned to old trafford. he was booed and jeered every time he touched the ball and someone even threw a coin at him from the stands, but hit a teammate instead. i felt bad for him, but he seemed mildly clueless as to why fans could turn on him. regardless, he got fucked over and wanted to play in a wc year, so while i understand the united fan’s position, i also understand his. still, the sight of seeing him in the light blue city strip made me want to vomit the decidedly average oatmeal i was eating out of my nostrils.
but i digress…
losing to nouveau riche man city, at old trafford, would have been a travesty to the highest degree. luckily the ref gifted us with 7 extra minutes of injury time and silver giggsy punished the city defense, carving them up like a drunk uncle on thanksgiving, and providing micheal owen with, what may be, the defining pass of the season.
in those 7 minutes, the mood in the pub was a roller coaster of emotions. after dirtbag craig bellamy scored the tying goal following rio’s atrocious error, the faces were long and the ‘fucks’ were a flyin.’ most people, including me, gave up and began to head home to a week of depression and taunts from the local liverpool fans. then, when owen’s goal hit the back of the net, it was sheer jubilation. every one present, in unison, leapt from their respective chairs and started hugging and screaming and high-fiving and (shock) singing the praises of owen. even the bartender, a bit salty this morning, and not a united fan, seemed genuinely overcome by the spectacle. oh, and a spectacle it certainly was. the best man u - man city game to ever be played.
glory glory.
scholes sighting: the little man was suspended from his previous league red card.
most terrifying bottle noticed behind the bar: ron rico light rum. no, ron rico is not some puerto rican numbers runner loitering outside of a bodega on east 110th street with a hairy chest and multiple gaudy gold chains emanating from under his unbuttoned a-rod jersey, it’s apparently a very cheap rum. if temped, save the time and money and just impale your forehead with a baseball bat instead.
