Michael Foster
Well I did say to expect the unexpected. But even I wasn’t expecting unexpectedness on such an unexpected scale.
Carrying on my television series analogy from last week, people often claim big season finales don’t meet expectations. Well I don’t suppose there will be many nerds complaining on the internet about Sunday’s finale. It provided suspense, heartbreak, action and intrigue in equal measure. There are cheesy eighties Hollywood sports films less fantastical than what unfolded at the Etihad.
So after a couple of major plot twists the title went to Manchester City, after they so nearly threw it all away. Undefeated at home all season, against a QPR side with utterly abysmal away form, people thought a home victory was as certain as the rising of the sun. But despite Zabaleta conforming to the laws of physics with the opening goal, Cisse commenced a solar eclipse with a goal gifted by Lescott. And despite Joey Barton’s attempt to restore the celestial balance with his best rendition of the hokey cokey, shaking his leg all about in the vicinity of Agüero, a second QPR goal had their fans dancing to a samba, while Man City fans were trudging instead to Radiohead.
The eyes of the red half of Manchester were fixed on Sunderland, where an early Rooney goal put Man Utd into a lead from which they never looked like surrendering. The biggest cheers came from tweeters and texters, as news of Man City’s misfortune spread throughout the away fans. The longer the afternoon went on, the tighter Sir Alex’s grip on the trophy became. His team remained composed and cool, while Man City floundered like a haddock stranded outside a Harry Ramsdens. As the clock hit ninety minutes the reds dared to believe, while the blues sank into despair.
But then, with the nineteenth Man City corner of the game, Dzeko discarded all haddock analogies by leaping like a salmon to head in the equaliser. Full time was called in Sunderland, and the Man Utd fans could only clutch their mobiles like rosary beads and pray. These prayers went unanswered. Agüero in the dying moments found space, let rip, and seconds later his shirt was off as euphoria gripped the Etihad stadium.
You don’t fluke league titles, and in that sense both teams would have been worthy winners. But out of the two Man City have provided the most entertainment, the most goals, and a circus of heroics and villainy in equal measure from their players. They were fitting winners of what has been a barmy and thoroughly entertaining season.
Events at Man City had implications for another North West team. Bolton needed to win and QPR needed to lose. It was so simple on paper, and for a few minutes it was so simple in real life as Bolton took a 2-1 lead. Then news filtered through of QPR’s jaw dropping fight back, at which Bolton lost the will. A Stoke penalty sealed the deal, so even Man City’s dramatic final victory wasn’t enough to spare Bolton from the trapdoor. Credit has to be given to their fans, who have stuck by their team fantastically throughout the hardships and will continue to do so, one would hope, in the Championship.
Things were slightly less glamorous for the North London clubs, playing for the prestigious title of not having an emotional stake in the Champions League Final. Spurs fans will be the ones wearing the lederhosen and eating bratwurst come Saturday, though they read their lines correctly with a win against Fulham and their old manager Martin Jol on his first return to White Hart Lane. During Jol’s tenure a dodgy lasagne had come to Wenger’s rescue as the teams tussled for European qualification. This time his salvation came in the form of West Brom goalkeeper Marton Fulop and his uncanny ‘deer in headlights’ impersonation, pretty much gifting Arsenal all three goals needed to ensure another year dining at Europe’s top table.
So another year gone, and a three month gap until the carnage recommences. At least we have the national favourite pastime of screaming at the TV over bloody useless England to look forward to in June. Thanks for the mad season Premier League, and see you in August.
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A fun 2 hours, maybe for neutrals, but for a City supporter like myself it was like going through labor. Excrutiating to endure but totally worth it when over.