Chapter 9:
6th August 2011,
Wembley Stadium, North London.
“Knock me right off my feet! Hard to beat! Hard to beat! Hard to beeeeaaattt...”
“Right Steve, music off now” I said, motioning to Steven N’Zonzi.
“This is it lads. May only be the start of the season, but it’s still a derby day and a cup final. City have been spending like no tomorrow, but we have something they don’t. We play for the club. Not our next paycheck and that makes us the better side out there. Now go out there and win the cup for the real Mancurian club, not some Arab billionaire’s plaything!”
A roar of approval came up from the team, with captain Nemanja Vidic providing more encouragement above the din “Come on lads!” Following the team down the tunnel, I was suddenly side by side with Roberto Mancini, who with a snide grin and an outstretched hand proclaimed,
“May the best team win”
“Aye” I replied. “Let’s see that smirk when we win, eh?”
Fighting talk. I headed to the dugout as the squads lined up on the pitch. Signings Erick Torres and Vaclav Kadlec were behind me on the bench, I’d preferred Javier Hernandez upfront on his own in a 4-2-3-1 to combat City’s notorious midfield, with Rooney and Young spreading the play wide, and Hamsik forcing the play in the centre. Ryan Shawcross, signed only the day before from Stoke for £11m, and a former United trainee, partnered Nemanja Vidic at the back, whilst Jack Rodwell and Steven N’Zonzi provided the bite in the centre of the park.
The game took a while to really begin, both teams happy to sit back and observe the play. It all kickstarted, when in the 19th minute, Rooney bombed forward on the right and pulled it square to Hamsik inside the D of the area. His piledriver of a shot smashed the post to groans of both relief and disappointment. After this, the game came to life, with Aguero forcing De Gea into a fantastic stop at his near post. From the resulting corner, Barry swung it in, and Yaya Toure, leading with his elbows, headed into the net from eight yards, whilst simultaneously smashing into the back of Vidic’s head. Cries of “Foul!” screamed out from the United fans behind that goal, who’d blatantly seen it, as Nemanja lay on the floor, dazed.
I glanced toward the assistant referee, hoping for the flag to signal a United free kick. It didn’t come. Instead, he signaled slowly toward the center circle, and the ref blew his whistle, to the joy of the City fans. The goal had counted.
I leapt out of my seat, and began yelling at the linesman.
“You blind *******! How could you not see him use his elbows!” then, as the referee approached, I turned on him. “You had the best view in the ******* house! He should be marching down that tunnel now, not celebrating!”
Safe to say Phil Dowd, the fourth official, did not appreciate this outburst one bit.
“Mr Newton, please return to your seat, or you will be sent to the stands.”
Returning to my seat as Rooney kicked off, I was still fuming. My mood wasn’t improved by, only a couple of minutes later, Vincent Kompany barging into Ashley Young inside the box, only for Martin Atkinson to wave away the protests, even going as far as booking Ashley for simulation. Not too impressed, I watched on as with a new found energy, possibly from feeling hard-done by, my United team pushed on.
Then, in the 42nd minute, that man Wayne Rooney again, turned Aleksander Kolarov like he didn’t exist and blazed an effort from 30 yards toward the far top corner. Joe Hart produced a magnificent diving stop to tip it just over the bar. Ashley Young ran over to take the corner kick, whilst Nemanja Vidic and Ryan Shawcross came up from the back. The corner came in, a high, inswinging ball that lingered in the air, which was met by the head of Shawcross at the back post, and flew straight into the roof of the net.
Turning back, Ryan ran the 4 short yards to Toure with a triumphant look on his face, spread his arms, and kissed the United badge, right in the face of the opposing player.
The referee instantly blew his whistle frantically as both red and blue shirts ran into the mix, then, without warning, Atkinson’s red card flew up, to the utter confusion of both myself and the fans in the ground. I feared the worst, that he’d sent Ryan off for provoking an opposition player, but only when Steve N’Zonzi threw Yaya Toure out of the way I saw Shawcross clutching his face on the floor.
The linesman escorted Toure off to the touchline, whilst the ref tried to retake control of the game. Therefore it was a blessing when the whistle for the end of the 1st half went, and the teams retreated to their respective dressing rooms.
It was only now, with the replays playing on the dressing room TV, I could see what had happened. As Ryan celebrated, and subsequently surrounded, Yaya Toure had blatently headbutted the centre-back in the face, which was what the ref had spotted and sent him off for. Turning back to the team, I pointed first at Ashley Young, “You’ve played well Ashley, but I don’t want you to pick up another yellow from this ref.” Then to Vaclav Kadlec. “You’ve got your chance now mate, you’re on.”
“There have been some seriously terrible decisions so far, but they’re now a man down in midfield and that will show. They’ll tire, and that’s when we can break and nick this game. We will win this trophy!”
The players emerged to a cacophony of noise, the fans eager for this battle to continue. From the off, Kadlec looked bright, beating Richards a few times down the wing but struggling to really make an impact with the tiring Hernandez in the centre. I looked up, and motioned to Erick Torres to begin to warm up.
As Erick made his way to the touchline, a cheer went up from the crowd. Wearing the number 8 shirt, recently vacated by the outgoing Anderson, he applauded the fans as the board went up. Almost instantly, he made an impact, firing just wide of the post from a Rooney lay-off.
Dominating as we were, we just could not break down a resilient City side, and with penalties looming, it seemed like it just would not be our day, with Rodwell hitting the bar and Shawcross coming within inches of his second as it was cleared off the line by Kompany. The ref checked his watch, and blew for full time. 1-1, and penalties would settle this Community Shield.
Nemanja won the toss, and Marek Hamsik stepped up to take the first penalty kick, which he drove in low with aplomb. Up stepped Aguero, who replied for City, sending De Gea the wrong way.
Next up, Wayne Rooney, who advanced to the spot and placed the ball down. We’d seen him do it countless times in training. The one man you’d expect to score.
BAM.
His standing leg gave way on his final step and the ball screwed high and around 10 yards wide. Not a single man in red could believe it. It got worse when Milner coolly slotted it past De Gea in response.
Erick Torres nominated himself to go next. I could barely watch as the 18-year old took a 2 step run-up and launched the ball clean into the top corner, a perfect penalty, whilst Vaclav Kadlec stroked home his penalty inbetween two fantastic saves from De Gea to put us in the driving seat.
Next up came Steve N’Zonzi, who took one step, two steps back. A goal here from the former Rovers midfielder would win us the cup. A shrill blast on the whistle, two steps, and a clean connection from the right boot of the midfielder, who sent the ball past Hart, into his opposite corner.
Leaping up and celebrating, I ran to join the mob of red shirts around the French international, glancing over my shoulder at the figure of Mancini, who had his head in his hands. It may have been ugly, it may have been late. But it was still my first silverware as Manchester United boss.