At least the outfits were splendid. United, true to the heritage of the club, wearing red and white ensembles, the tops gracefully framing the shoulders of even Phil Jones and emphasising the slender sculpted waists of the players, with the Chevrolet logo adding a delightful hint of lemon. Meanwhile, the Yokohama Tyres ad emblazoned across Chelsea’s royal blue finery added a note of refined modernity to the occasion.
Apart from that, the day was muck.
We were 65 minutes in to the FA Cup final when the BBC’s Steve Wilson, with eternal hope in his heart, suggested that “the game might be bubbling up in to a good one”. This was the equivalent of sitting wrapped in a blanket on an Irish beach under grey skies, pointing heavenwards and telling anyone who would listen that “there’s a hint of blue over there!”
The blue, of course, always disappears behind the grey again, which is kind of the way the cup final went too.
“Only in the grip of World Wars have we not been gripped by the FA Cup, and not even a royal wedding can change that,” Steve had told us as we kicked off, but this wasn’t entirely true. There are quite a number of people out there who could tell you the name of Coventry City’s 1987 left-back’s next door neighbour’s brother-in-law’s milkman (Sid) who couldn’t tell you who won the 2017 FA Cup (?).
But every year you live in hope of a final that will relight the fire and Ian Wright reckoned our best chance of one was if “Hazard breaks through the shekels”, although he disappointingly corrected himself thereby depriving us of what would have undoubtedly been the highlight of an otherwise highlight-less day.
Time for the pre-match interviews with Antonio Conte and José Mourinho, one looking as surly and miserable as the other. Conte left out the highly marvellous Willian, lest we be entertained while Mourinho suggested that Romelu Lukaku had left himself out, lest Mourinho couldn’t blame someone else if it all went pear-shaped.
Off we went, Ander Herrera failing to shekel Hazard who was downed by not the first imperfectly timed tackle of Jones’s career. Chelsea wanted Jones sent off, as did many United fans who reckoned the team would have been significantly strengthened by his absence.
Penalty, goal.
By the time the half-time whistle came it felt like the game had kicked off in 1987. “Man United have been hopeless,” said Alan Shearer, who was being far too generous, Gary Lineker deciding to turn his attention to the World Cup because the first half had offered so few moments worth chatting about.
Second half, Chelsea conceding the bulk of the possession to United, safe in the knowledge that they wouldn’t know what to do with it. Martin Keown sounded like he was about to drift off, a bit like the rest of us, just staying awake long enough to note that Marcus Rashford, Paul Pogba and Alexis Sánchez appeared to have the life, joy and confidence sucked out of them, all of them playing like drains. A testament to José’s man-management skills.
Full-time. “Wembley becomes the garden of Eden,” said Gary, and he didn’t even blush.
The hardest task of the day fell to Brian Kerr over on TV3 when he had to try and figure out what exactly was Herrera’s role in the game. “What was he doing? I could have done that today, Tommy,” he said, risking José putting in a €95 million bid for him in the summer.
Neil Lennon was at a loss. “When I go to watch Manchester United play I want to see the Harlem Globetrotters of football, at the minute if they were playing out there I wouldn’t pay to see them,” he said, pointing roughly in the direction of the TV3 car park.
Back on the BBC, José was telling us that United deserved to win. He must have been watching a different game. Lucky him.
