It was obvious well before David Moyes took to his office on the 1st of July that he would be working under a lens. For his well-being, he could only hope to not let the Sun usurp the zenith that had been occupied by Manchester United.
Playing in a football league is almost like taking part in the Tour de France, each team covering the entire distance of the race, only beginning with and passing through different stages, drawn at random, at different points in the season. The stages at the start of Manchester United's first league campaign under Moyes, as luck would have it, consisted of courses that were steep and mountainous, fast and tortuous. But, he knew of it in advance, and had a couple of months to corral the men who could help him succeed in his mission. He had a coffer that could afford the wages of the best footballers, but being nouveau riche comes with its own share of problems, especially if you are used to eking out what you have and thrifty at expending it. It's something most small town people like me who've moved to throbbing cosmopolitan cities such as Bangalore have experienced first-hand. You may be able to afford the 80-rupees-a-cup coffee, but your addiction to the beverage would have been toned down due to the dissatisfaction that prevails even after gulping the pricey small volume of it down, in addition to rapid slimming of your newly anorexic wallet. Nevertheless, you wouldn't mind the occasional, fulfilling hit of caffeine, as long as its cost is matched by the cuppa's exoticism.
Moyes's foray in the transfer market resembled my predicament at the upmarket cafe. The players he considered worthy of wads of cash, to his dismay, were happy playing their game at their present clubs. You know the despair that follows being bowled over by the seductive description of that particular coffee only to be told by the barista that the premium cafe no longer serves it, don't you? Then, desperate for caffeine, you end up begrudgingly buying a regular cup at an exorbitant price. That's what Moyes did too. Moyes, unfortunately, wasn't ordering only for himself, but also on behalf of the spoilt United fans sitting with him. Moyes was refreshed by the coffee, but what of the epicures who indulge in coffee more for its flavor than its ability to keep one awake? The hot, frothy cup of coffee - in keeping with one of caffeine's side effects - only heightened the fans' anxiety. Perhaps the football could ease the nerves?
The season began on a sanguine note against an ever-improving Swansea side. The draw against Chelsea on Moyes' Old Trafford debut was acceptable, given that Mourinho's team had parked the bus. The loss away to Liverpool - United's traditional rivals and Moyes' own bugbears from his Everton days - was hard to stomach, but an endurable retch, given United's performance had not exactly been paled by Liverpool's. A knockout by the noisy neighbours, though, was sickening, and perhaps concussed Moyes and his men. That he hadn't been able to shake it off when United hosted West Brom, and his wards too were still reeling, indicated a pathological illness. His decisions, be it to take Kagawa off at half-time while leaving Nani - who seemed to be training through the first half - on the pitch, and then substituting Robin van Persie for Chicharito, just after United had drawn level through Rooney's untouched free kick, with more than a quarter of the game still to be played were baffling. Before the goal had been scored, it had seemed likely that he would swap RVP with one of the midfielders, as betrayed by the last-minute confusion before the fourth official help up his board. West Brom had looked lively throughout the game and lethal on the counter. So, by changing his mind to stick to a 4-4-2 after the goal, was Moyes saying that he needed just one more goal now, and attacking with three strikers was therefore unnecessary? As the result showed, he needed more than a goal, though his tactics had failed to yield even the one he had planned for.
This conservative slant that seems to guide Moyes is what concerns and irks most United fans. They had been more than vocal in expressing what they hoped to see from Moyes once he took over from Sir Alex - "C'mon, C'mon, David Moyes, Play like Fergie's boys..." Signaling possible satisfaction from a one-goal victory over a mid-table side like West Brom at Old Trafford was very much deviant from the ask of composing awesome oneiric operas that would befit the Theatre of Dreams. Sir Alex's successor, as of now, savours success in a flavour that the fans aren't fully fond of.
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