Odds and Sods

It was a night to celebrate English dominance, or continental decrepitude, depending on your perspective.  We knew it would be an all-Premier League final, the only question was whether Liverpool or Chelsea would move on to play Manchester United in Moscow.  After a predictable 1-1 regulation draw, and an entirely unpredictable 2-1 extra-time, it was Chelsea who prevailed 4-3 on aggregate

Liverpool gave a creditable effort.  The Reds relied on Rafa’s tactics, grit and European romance, but they could not escape Chelsea’s superior squad.  Liverpool have elite players–Torres, Mascherano, Carragher and, by some interpretations, Gerrard– but Riise, Benayoun and Kuyt fade behind a Chelsea squad loaded with Essien, Ballack, Lampard and the rest.  Ryan Babel and his scuba mask tried admirably, but the vaunted Liverpool magic died in the first leg with Riise’s errant header.

Chelsea have finally reached their Roman-inspired destination but it comes ironically in the midst of squad shuffling, managerial turmoil and less than inspiring performances.  Most indicative of this were the heroes of the night, Frank Lampard and Didier Drogba–the players most miffed at Mourinho’s departure and the players most likely to leave during the summer

The rhetoric regards this Chelsea-Man U final as an awesome, magical match–a clash between titans.  The result could decide the legacy of arguably the two most decisive reigns in the Premier League era, Ferguson’s sovereignty of United and Abramovich’s change at Chelsea.  It should be a hallmark occasion for English football, but something about it feels a bit empty.

It was not a confident performance, but Paul Scholes’ 25 yard screamer made it a competent one as Manchester United beat Barcelona 1-0 to advance to the Champions’ League Final.

Barca held much of the possession, but made none of itmeaningful. Spectacular sprite Leo Messi outshined his best player rival Cristiano Ronaldo, but the rest of the team failed to feed off his energy–his through balls rolling harmlessly to the keeper.

Eric Abidal was completely outclassed. Yaya Toure looked like the opposite of his brother. Puyol and Milito lacked the composure that even a geriatric Thuram might have provided. Xavi, Deco, Iniesta and Eto’o were non-existent. Henry might as well have worn an Arsenal shirt, with the cohesion he displayed with his team.

United lacked the dynamism of a Rooney and the solidity of a Vidic, but they defended the center of the pitch ruthlessly and denied Barca a fatal equalizer. Their effort was gutsy, but hardly convincing. A physical squad with tactical coherence, like Chelsea or Liverpool, might have been more successful.

Man U may breathe a sigh of relief, but they will need to perform better if they are to complete their dual quest.