On the way to Old Trafford as a kid, I used to stare into passing cars, wondering why not everyone was going to the game. You're in Manchester, United are playing, and you're not busy - what else is to do?

The answer, of course, is nothing, but the takeover and resultant price hikes have forced people to stay away on principle – perhaps the Glazers were actually funded by a consortium of fed-up wives. Anyway, the upshot is that games like Tuesday's at home to Wolves no longer sell out, leaving season ticket holders stuck at work with nothing better to do with their tickets than give them to the likes of me.

It'd be wrong to say that there aren't advantages to boycotting – less awayday guilt, less hassle, less expense and less general despair – but not having been to Old Trafford for a while, I was glad of the opportunity. Despite it all, there's still nowhere like it, even on the dullest of dull nights (and this one was duller).

Anyway, first things first, and to last weekend's game against Villa, easily the toughest until we play Arsenal at the end of January. You might, therefore, have thought - particularly given the injury situation - that the strongest available team would be selected. Well you might have done had Fergie not been involved.

It appears that three useless cup displays does a league start win, Park's selection agonising evidence of a team picked according to rota rather than quality. Recently, it's looked like 4-3-3 is the best way of exploiting its strengths and hiding its weaknesses – bad news for Berbatov – but even in a 4-4-2, without a prolific centre forward, the wide attackers must be a genuine goal threat. Park, however, rarely scores or creates, buzzing around like a mosquito with balance issues and only slightly more usefully; in a United career that began four and a half years ago, he's managed twelve goals, whilst the far-from-perfect, far-from-prolific Antonio Valencia already has five.

Even so, United enjoyed enough possession and created enough chances to have won comfortably, although you could just as easily argue that Villa merited their victory for taking one of theirs and defending it well. That said, crediting them with a performance of verve and wit is overdoing it; the goal came very much out of the blue, following a period of sustained assault, and the second half saw them massed in their own half like pawns on a chessboard.

Although the blame for the defeat rests with the players, they were certainly not helped by the management. In the first half, Rooney was easily United's most dangerous player, but after the break was withdrawn into a deeper role to facilitate the arrival of Owen. This was not particularly helpful, as for now, Rooney's best as a centre forward, with only one man blocking his route to goal – his passing isn't precise enough to dissect entire defences. With Villa condensing the game well, what was needed was pace out wide, but instead we got Berbatov, who in doing quite well also added to the clutter; only in the final few moments should weight of numbers take precedence over shape.

If that game was a let down, midweek against Wolves was more a non-event than any football match I can remember attending. This was due in part to circumstance – the handball that led to the penalty couldn't be seen from most parts of the ground, so there was neither appeal nor roar on its award – and similar reaction greeted the second goal, the ball sneaking over the line after appearing to have been saved.

There's already been plenty said about the eleven Mick McCarthy sent out, so just two more things. One: they're not much cop at football, but I'd love to see Maierhofer and Elokobi on opposite sides of the octagon; and two – if times were hard, you could make Greg Halford's shirt by cutting arm holes in a Halfords bag.

A proper football club with a rich history, you'd expect that Wolves fans would have a repertoire that extended beyond the generic relegation songs sung by all the other teams we only play every few seasons, but that's absolutely not so. Not that United were much better; suddenly presented with a player who can score from outside the box, the cries of "shooooot" each time Gibson got the ball are lame enough to make you wish he'd never encouraged them in the first place.

Elsewhere, Ryan Giggs was named BBC's Sports Personality of the Year this week – hard to defend in a rare year of legitimate contenders. Still, it was hard not to feel vicarious warmth at his success, his longevity the reward for the dedicated way in which he looks after himself – in a recent interview with The Times, Giggs confided that "after a slice of buttered toast, I feel less mentally sharp". Apparently Nani usually eats his share.

Talking of mental sharpness, it's been another bad week for the scousers. With attempts to sound rousing heightened by the 50th anniversary of Bill Shankly's appointment, let's enjoy remembering that when he was offered the manager's job by then Liverpool chairman Tom Williams, the conversation went something like this:

Williams: How would you like to manage the best club in the world?"

Shankly: Why, is Matt Busby packing it in?

And thanks again to Jamie Carragher, who this week treated us to the following:

"Between now and May it's going to be a grind at times but we've got to stick together, get through it and, as I'm doing, pray to God that at the end of the season there will be something worthwhile for what we've gone through."
Jamie, I'm sure there's a spot in heaven reserved especially for you, and well does your suffering deserve it. Perhaps you should change your name to Job.

This particular bout of stoic misery came after Arsenal easily overturned a half-time deficit, apparently inspired by Wenger's dressing room screaming; how very scary that must be. As a general rule, there's not much funnier than anger, but that must have got lips a-twisting and teeth a-tongue-biting like nothing since Biggus Dickus.

For all his whinging, bad hair, and poor syntax, I have time for Wenger, famously incorruptible and one of few who genuinely seems to care about the game. However in threatening to sue the Dutch FA, he's putting his own interests above the greater good; if he won, then international football might be irreparably damaged – fine with me, and better for him, but the majority seem quite taken with it.

Having been forced into selling players against his will as a result of the Bosman ruling, Wenger should know that just because the law permits something, it doesn't mean it's for the best – and if that isn't proof enough, he should take a look at Old Trafford's empty seats.