Honestly, I am doing everything I can here. I have stopped reading the newspapers, a brick has been thrown through the screen of the TV and I have managed to block out all radio broadcasts to my house. But somehow this word ‘quintuple’ keeps coming back into my consciousness.
It is not going to stop. With performances like this one we are doomed to the build up for this outrageous trophy bid.
If you had asked any normal red what they wanted for this season they would have replied, quite simply, for that 18th league title and some way to erase the memory of Ronaldo’s antics during the summer. Our odds with betfair for the league title are now 1/33, which is utterly absurd, and some bright spark has even paid out on us collecting the domestic treble. How the hell do you keep calm in the middle of all this lunacy?
United are starting to resemble Alexander the Great’s lustful quest for power across the entire known world. Famously, after his billionth superb military victory, ‘big Al’ (as his generals liked to call him) “wept, for he had no more worlds to conquer.” Well diddums. Our own Alex (Sir, as his generals like to call him) does not seem on the verge of tears. He has, however, revealed something that has not been in his repertoire previously. Fear. What is Ferguson sacred of? Is it Chelsea under Hiddink? Barcelona’s goal machine? Sneaky Mourinho’s master-plan for Old Trafford?
Nope, none of the above. Ferguson is afraid of retiring. It is unlikely the rest of the management fraternity looks upon this with any kind of triumphant joy. I can see visions of heavyweight boxers punching long dead opponents hours after the bell has been rung before shrugging their shoulders and saying with tearful eyes “I’m sorry, I’m scared to stop hitting you.” Fergie is indeed a psychopath, but he is our psychopath and we love him. He is obviously so addicted to the adrenalin of winning that he can no longer stop. Perhaps if he ever does retire he could co-star with Jason Statham in Crank 2, the sequel to the movie where our hero had to keep his heart rate above a certain level to stay alive.
With the world gone quintuple mad, cats and dogs living together, oceans boiling, mountains crumbling and a decent president in the White House perhaps we do have a place for this United juggernaut. It will hurt me later, I am sure it will but I give in. Okay, the quin-flipping-tuple is on!
Footnote: I reserve the right to amend this article after Wednesday night.