Ronaldo's return: he scores with his left, he scores with his right
One old flame, two vital goals, seven things to say. Our man at the Stretford End reports on a day when Five Asides were not enough
SEVEN ASIDES United 4, Newcastle 1
You had to be there. Hell, even one of the Glazers turned up. The direct trains from London were sold out, the indirect ones packed out (good morning, Birmingham New Street). The sound in the ground was some way beyond thunderous: Ronaldo was jumping, and so was the joint. When United entertained Leeds on the first Saturday of the season, the crowd favourite was clearly Bruno Fernandes, a born showman who had spent nearly all of his sensational United career behind closed doors. It felt like the beginning of a beautiful romance. Four weeks later, in the second home game of the season, Fernandes found that his new love had gone back to a very old flame. In the queues, even in the loos, the fans were singing about only one person. “He plays on the left, he plays on the right.”
These days, he plays in the middle. And it took him about two minutes to confirm something we had suspected: that he’s a useless presser. A 4-1 win is routine for United against Newcastle (it happened last year, and the year before), and if Edinson Cavani had been there, this team might have scored six. A creative centre-back like Virgil van Dijk may even be looking forward to facing the new, old Ronaldo, who conserves his energy for the scoresheet. But when your opponents are parking the bus, letting them have the ball is a legitimate ploy. And the man of the moment, who later admitted to being “super-nervous”, soon showed his class in other ways – with his sharp movement, his simple lay-offs, his ability to hang in the air, his commanding instructions, his nose for a half-chance, and above all his sense of occasion.
He shoots a lot, eventually he scores. In the last minute before half-time a disjointed United were dawdling until Paul Pogba found Mason Greenwood, who, like Fernandes, had just been usurped: last month he was the best finisher at the club, now not even his mum would call him that. But he found half a yard between three defenders, drilled in a shot, picked up a deflection, drew a fumble from the keeper, and presented Ronaldo with a right-foot tap-in – a gift for an old pro. Ronaldo had earned it by getting on his bike even before Greenwood pulled the trigger. Greenwood had earned it by turning United’s sluggishness into urgency. Two top strikers, two top snipers, both two-footed, separated only by 17 years.
That goal was a case of the right man, at the right time, at the wrong end. It was rather wasted on the long-suffering Newcastle fans in the East Stand. Those of us in the heaving mass of humanity at the Stretford End had had to watch Ronaldo from afar, though we did get a close-up of his entrances and exits, pursued by a cameraman. And you can easily make him out when the action is a distant blur. He’s the one who doesn’t run – he struts.
He knows the ground, he knows the crowd, he knows the score. After only 17 minutes attacking the Stretford End, Ronaldo did it again. Slipped through by Luke Shaw (a better winger than Jadon Sancho, on present form), he sent a regulation left-foot shot straight at Freddie Woodman. It was driven into the net by sheer willpower – Ronaldo’s, and 70,000 other people’s. He had marked his second debut with a second goal. He had given United the lead twice in 20 minutes. He had done his new job, being a bad-team bully.
Meanwhile Raphael Varane, making his home debut, gave an unnoticed masterclass. He’s so comfortable on the big stage. In fact he seems to think he’s in Downton Abbey, playing two roles at once. When things are going well, he’s a lord, taking his time, exuding composure. But if something goes wrong, he swaps his frock coat for a pinny and becomes the housemaid mopping up the mess. One minute Varane was spraying a Scholesian ball to Shaw, the next he was sprinting back to tidy up behind Aaron Wan-Bissaka and turn a corner into a throw-in. And although Ronaldo had the best leaps, Varane had the best header, a bullet that grazed the far post. In the space of 11 months since the signing of Cavani, United’s heading has gone from reluctant to imperious.
Things went so smoothly that Ole Gunnar Solskjer even used his subs well. Ronaldo’s goals, decisive as they were, would not have been enough to keep United top of the table after Chelsea’s stroll against Villa. For that they needed a screamer from Fernandes, two more assists (and some gritty persistence) from Pogba, a smart dummy from Anthony Martial and a confident finish from Jesse Lingard. Solskjaer again stuffed the bench with inside-forwards – Lingard, Donny van de Beek and Juan Mata – but at least this time he used two of them. Lingard for Sancho was the right sub at the right time, straight after Ronaldo’s second. It gave Lingard the freedom to be his best self, his West Ham and England self. The lesser-spotted van de Beek came on too, had a hand in the fourth goal and could even have scored it as he ghosted into space like Martin Peters (also of West Ham and England). Mata, alas, only got to trot along the touchline. I hope he’s inked in for Tuesday – United will need an old stager at Young Boys, and Ronaldo may be putting his feet up.
Tim de Lisle writes about sport for The Guardian and music for The Mail on Sunday. Do follow him if you’re on Twitter, or better still follow United Writing.