Pessimist's Porto Preview - Jager bombs are nice

Eh, I hate this game. No, I don't. I love it.

Where has the defensive unity gone? Does Mister Vidic think his job was done to secure Player of the Year or something? We're looser at the back than Taylor Raine. Van Der Sar looks like a gibbering wreck and was probably rested against Sunderland to allow the new meds to kick in. Do we even have any right backs any more? Don't say Gary Neville, he's as much a right back as I am. Do us a favour, Gary. Fall on your sword. Walk away from the club, ta.

The Porto game showed yet again what can happen when a team sets about us. The confidence is so utterly drained that we bend over and accept the resultant bumming in an almost apologetic manner. Both their goals game from individual errors but that's absolutely no excuse for the pasting they were giving us in the first half. It has been touted as Paul Scholes' worst game in the red of Manchester United and I find it hard to disagree. Perhaps he fancies a brief flirt in Liga Sagres and was getting used to the surroundings. Only Patrice Evra and Wayne Rooney actually came out of the game with their reputations in tact in my eyes, though Evra will need to show a little more defensive nous against a team who attacking so aggressively.

The Sunderland game is a strange one. The media portrayed us as struggling when the reality is that we dominated the game for large parts and were very good value for the win, but again there were ridiculous defensive errors. Enough about those. Another goal for Macheda, intentional or not, will have the young man brimming with confidence and putting pressure on Berbatov, who has regressed once more to the slow, lazy oaf of a player we saw at the start of the year. A few good touches against Sunderland don't make up for his lack of goals.

So what's going to happen tonight? We are favourites to progress at a ground we've never won at (I think no English team has ever beaten Porto in Porto, though I may be wrong) despite being second best at everything at Old Trafford.

Is it possible? Absolutely, if any team can do it, it is us. That's surely the message Ferguson has to be reminding the players. We have players that the rest of the world envy; Ronaldo, Rooney, Evra, Vidic, Ferdinand... we have a fantastic set of supporting players to allow the flair players to do their work; Scholes, Carrick, Van Der Sar... We even have talented players who seem loath to exhibit their abilities; Nani, Anderson, Tevez, Berbatov...

If we can get some spirit and belief back into the squad, the sky's the limit. We're the match of any team on the planet, whatever the media may think about Barcelona.

That said, I believe Barca are rightly the current favourites in the Champions League as they have the form. I can still see Chelsea progressing from their semi though, if they can look after Messi. Step up Mr Essien?

I'm not sure if the butterflies in my stomach are the kebab and Jagerbombs from last night or the nerves of the game later. Probably both.

A marriage with Macheda

So I survived my first ever wedding and I also survived the game yesterday, though my heart is a little worse for wear.

Actually, my Saturday was very similar to my Sunday, it's amazing how much a wedding can resemble a game of the old footer.

Let's take it step by step -

The ceremony vs the build up.

No one actually cares about this bit, it's all hyperbole. The line ups are revealed, the formal arrangements all agreed and all the onlookers await the good times later on. In this regard, the ceremony was probably the more enjoyable as my potential granny-in-law's hearing aid started whistling loudly just as the minister piped up. I struggled to contain my mirth at this, as the church in question was tiny and everyone stared in our direction. The only person who couldn't hear it was the poor old dear herself. In stepped future mummy-in-law and my laughs were over. Boo. The chirpy minister probably loses out to the pre-match Sky comments, his attempts at being funny and berating the lack of singing were as cringe worthy as Andy Gray's best “Take a bow, son”.

The Meal vs the first half.

Kick off is upon us. All the pretence is over. Both sides are clearly divided in their allegiances (bride v groom's guests, United v Villa) and take their respective positions on the pitch/tables. The early minutes are tense as both sides get their first couple of drinks. Neither side is giving an inch. One side begins to edge it, but no... there's a shock! There's a handled back pass working in my favour, I get my first drink free of charge. The Bulmers isn't my usual poison but it tastes as sweet as a Ronaldo finish today. Yes, I'm winning. I'm getting drunk free of charge. I'm sticking it to the man.

1-0

My joy is soon checked though, I'm sat at a table with no one I know apart from my girlfriend, and they (like Villa) have no love for United as they cheer when they realise Chelsea are beating Newcastle and I look despondent. Villa take back control of the game and as Carew slots in his header, it's just like that first trip to the bar where I actually had to pay. It lessens the fun but at 1-1 it's all square, and I am still drinking at this wedding so this could go either way!

Post meal entertainment vs the next 35 minutes.

The meal is over, I'm still a little hungry, my money is flowing out of my wallet like Ashley Young past old man Neville and I'm summoned for the dreaded photos. Come on now, this isn't fair. I'm the boyfriend to the cousin of the bride! How the hell is that worthy of involvement in the photos? To add insult to injury, I need to set my drink down for this. What's going on! Right on queue, we can marry this (pun not intended but I'll pretend it was) to Aston Villa's dominance after the break and when I return to my seat to observe The Beatles tribute band sound checking (surely the most overrated band to have existed since the dawn of time), it feels like a bundled Agbonlahor goal.

What's going on? I'm not drunk yet. I'm still hungry. I'm having my ears subjected to this tripe. Please... Please Help Me!

2-1 down.

The piss up vs 80th minute to 85h minute

What is happening? The Beatles have started banging away and they're playing all the songs I can actually tolerate and perhaps the Bulmers is doing more than I credit it. My girlfriend's sister's boyfriend David has arrived and is seemingly intent on catching up on the alcohol stakes. The fact that my latest pint has been delivered courtesy of the girlfriend's dad always adds to the pleasure and it's almost inevitable that my mood is now on the up, just like a Ronaldo 18 yard strike to bring things level. This night can go either way now. What's it to be?

2-2

The bar (David inspired) v the end of the game (Macheda inspired)

The hour of reckoning, I'm at the bar and with the accuracy of a Ryan Giggs through ball, I find David purchasing his latest round. This potential future giant provides the impetus we need to kick on and dominate this one. Aftershock, one round thereof. The smattering of bridesmaids and other assorted girls at the bar join us as the first one feels like a Ronaldo shot, just over. It's good, it's a kick up the arse but it's bitter. We need more! The next Aftershock feels like a Danny Welbeck chance, narrowly saved as the great feeling is surely only one more drink away. Delirium kicks in, it's my turn to take a chance and as I ask the barman for lime and salt, David reminds me that I've ordered sambuca.

This is it, the moment of truth, one shot away from that elusive victory or one shot glass away from that all conquering buzz. Macheda being jostled off the ball at the end of the box feels like that first smell of the sambuca, that realisation that this isn't a nice feeling at all. But then, as Macheda turns Luke Young, it's the sambuca pouring down my throat. The slow motion feeling as the ball curls around Brad Friedel's despairing dive and as the ball nestles into the far corner, it's that warm, tingling sensation in your stomach as the drink settles in for the evening.

3-2

Ecstasy.

It was all worth it.

This is what it's all about. Football and life.

I return to cider, safe in the knowledge that this feeling is going to last the rest of the night. My liver is destroyed by the wedding, the ten odd pints of cider during the day and those three beautiful shots.

My heart is destroyed by the football, and all that took was those three beautiful shots.

Yes, three shots is all it takes if the ground work is right.

Life mirrors football.

Football is life.

Internationals are dead, long live domestic football.

It's been another substantial break since my last post, mostly down to having nothing to talk about and my acute case of football loathing there for a while. For the first time in a while, I was greeting the international break with relief. The team was clearly burnt out, emotionally, with tempers flaring during the Fulham farce.

Normally I don't take too much time for the internationals, keeping an eye out for Northern Ireland, England and our players but I actually found myself glued to the box for both of our internationals this time around. Jonny Evans turned in two Man of the Match performances, in my opinion, and that bodes fantastically well for Sunday where he will deputise for the suspended Nemanja Vidic. Hopefully Rio will be there also after limping off for England in midweek.

Also for England, Wayne Rooney found a smile on his face once more with a superb game against Slovakia and a good shift put in against the Ukraine, while his strike partners fell away around him. Heskey's absence from Sunday's game is actually a curse as the infinitely superior John Carew will now surely start.

Even Carlos Tevez found the score sheet as Argentina wiped out Venezuela 4-0, but then featured in an energy sapping high-altitude game as they were embarrassed 6-1 by Bolivia in La Paz.

John O'Shea was literally shedding blood for the Republic of Ireland's cause midweek as they scraped a draw against ten man Italy.

Ronaldo was rubbish as Portugal messed up yet again, Evra didn't have too troubled a time against Lithuania in either game as France secured two 1-0 wins against the minnows.

Meh, have I missed anyone? Probably have, don't really care.

So by Sunday we'll probably be two points behind Liverpool. How they hell have we let that happen?

Tevez to start up front on his own? Or perhaps we'll see Ronaldo play there again? Or Danny Welbeck? Hmm. Whoever plays, we must attack Villa from the off. They're on a relatively poor run at the moment and we need to put someone to the sword to get us back on track. A strong midfield with Giggs, Scholes and Carrick would be excellent and should be enough to control the game. Ronaldo on the right, Tevez and Welbeck up front. Or perhaps Park on the right, Giggs left, and Ronaldo and Tevez up front? This isn't even mentioning Anderson and Fletcher.

Even with injuries, we have options and we need to show that our lesser seen players are up for the task.

God, please just give me a win. I think I'll have a cider during the game, to take the edge off my hangover from the night before.

Going to my first ever wedding. Are they fun?