My Ass Still Burns

If you’ve joined me lately, you will know that I am one of the beleaguered fans of the storied Manchester United Reds. Lately, we have been on quite the roll. We have enjoyed success internationally, as well as the FA Cup in recent weeks, but Jurgen Klopp and the Reds of Liverpool apparently were not informed how great we were.

7-0.

Quite simply stated, the biggest ass-whipping we have EVER received in a Premier League match.

I thought surely manager Ten Hag had another course of substitution magic for us; he’s done it all year long. But no, although it is my contention that Argentinian wunderkind Alejandro Garnacho should be starting.

It was actually a close 1-0 Liverpool advantage at half-time, but then “the wheels fell off.”

It was embarrassing.

If it would have been a fight, they would have stopped it.

Marcus Rashford, whose shirt I am wearing, was unimpressive despite briefly looking dangerous in front of goal. Midfielder Raphael Varane still remains unimpressive.

The usually most dependable professionals on the team, and I am referring to Bruno Fernandes, Lisandro Martinez, and Brazilian Casemiro, all looked like they were sleepwalking. Fernandes missed on an open goal fuck-up and many set-piece kicks, Martinez struggled to hold his temper on several possibly crucial occasions, almost costing the team a penalty, and Casemiro was slow (slower than usual, let’s say), and his passes, usually on-time and forward, were off-point and behind.

When all three of these players underperform, we are in trouble.

Liverpool were first to fight, first to every contested ball, and it showed in the final results.

I have been to the pubs in Liverpool when United were in for a match, and I know how bat-shit crazy they were as their lads kept piling it on with goal after goal. For a minute there, it looked like they could score ten.

What does it all mean for my lads?

As far as they have come in recent months, they still have a long way to go to avoid having this taste in their mouths ever again. In a crazy way, it just might be the very best thing to happen to this team. It was nothing less than shooting practice for Liverpool in the last ten minutes of regulation.

It wasn’t IF, but WHEN they would put another in the back of the old potato sack. It looked and felt like what it must have been like for General George Armstrong Custer as Indians surrounded and slaughtered his soldiers.

There is still a lot of football remaining to be played, and we must continue to fight to secure a place in the Top Four of the Premier League so we can qualify for Champion’s League football.

When we lived in Japan, we lived in a tiny village, and our small house was heated by a kerosene unit, which was surrounded by a screen which would get super-hot as the night went on.

My ass still burns from that, too.

Stay well.