Think this a good read from very much a long standing and suffering supporter. Dan's been going a long time and writes good blogs.
[B]Not as totemic as Cantona, as reliable as Van Nistelrooy, or as disgustingly brilliant as Ronaldo - why I won't miss Wayne Rooney[/B]
One Manchester United fan looks on the bright side
By Daniel Harris
It’s a strange old sickness being a United supporter nowadays, every piece of bad news also a piece of good. A disconcerting paradox, but accurate nonetheless; whether it’s unsold tickets, on-pitch defeat or pessimistic players, with each Glazer-induced reverse, the end of the occupation draws slightly nearer.
Thus part of me wants to thank Wayne Rooney for deciding to leave. Though Fergie, in a pitch-perfect performance, pleaded ignorance as to his reasons, a quick glance at a squad list is all that’s required to make them clarity-clear – he’s simply not prepared to fritter away his best years in selfless failure, a victim of the criminal under-investment that’s a direct consequence of United’s crushing debt.
And you can see his point. Van der Sar, Giggs and Scholes are close to retired, Ferdinand, Vidic, Evra and Berbatov nearing the end of their peaks, and their replacements either unproven or 'un up to it'. Even if Smalling, Evans, Cleverley and Hernandez turn out to be good enough in the end, it’ll be several years before they form the nucleus of a title-winning side.
In May – when Rooney would have signed a contract that United never presented, presumably to save a few quid on his pay rise - he commented that were the club to sign a couple of big-name players, they’d have a decent chance of regaining the league. When, by the middle of August, this hadn’t happened, he was suddenly in a position to leave and with good reason to do so, the suppression of the news until this week ensuring it had no impact on season ticket sales that were already well down on previous years.
At least now, there’s one thing less to sell – of the family silver, only Old Trafford and perhaps Nani and Evra remain. And with each atrocity, there remains the forlorn hope that those still ploughing their money into the club will accept that the truth, though painful, remains no less a truth: United are on the way down, the Glazers are the reason why, and the sooner they’re starved out the sooner we can start again.
Of course, Rooney’s eagerness to flee should be in no way surprising. A figurehead of the 'ftbllr' generation, he merrily forsook his boyhood club at the earliest available opportunity, ostensibly for two things: trophies and money. Cachet helped too, but only in the context; like almost all of them, he’s just passing through, an employee, a mercenary, and off as soon as things seem like they might be better elsewhere.
Equally inauthentic is Fergie playing the wounded parent, safe in the knowledge that he’ll never be challenged the next time he eulogises about United’s great "owners" or bemoans the lack of value in the transfer market, because he’s banned everyone who might ask him the relevant question. As for Rooney, if he’s any sort of mensch, he’ll tell the truth when asked to explain himself, but no doubt an arrangement purchasing his silence will be part of any deal.
"There's poignancy in Tevez and Rooney lining up at Eastlands, City able to define themselves only in relation to United"
Instead, succour can be taken in the restoration of United’s squad into a scouse-free zone, never an entirely bad thing. It’s also fair to say that whilst Rooney’s a very good player, he’s by no means a great one - though even if he was, he’d still be just a player. But as it happens, he’s not as totemic as Cantona, as reliable as Van Nistelrooy, nor as disgustingly brilliant as Ronaldo, those three the finest attackers of my United-watching career by an extremely long way.
And finally, to the seeming inevitability of Rooney signing for City. Though I’d not be disingenuous enough to suggest that seeing him in baby blue won’t sting, imagining the state of him by the time he gets there is a consoling thought. Assuming he’s played his last game for United, left to his own vices until January, by then he’ll be so full of bronchitis, cirrhosis, obesity and chlamydia as to render him utterly useless, and that’s before the onset of full-blown bluemonia.
There’s also poignancy in Tevez and Rooney lining up together at Eastlands, City able to define themselves only in relation to United despite it all, their presence perfectly crystallising the hollowness of any subsequent success. Never will there be any illusion that either was seduced by an illustrious history of failure, insignificance and empty seats, the reality inescapable that both have been bribed by the coincidental confluence of pipelines, availability and whim. Even in these depressing times of money lust and financial doping, football is about glory, not success, and representing United means something; as Rooney will discover, playing in Manchester isn’t the same as playing for Manchester, and whether he knows it or not, the crude stench of oil and plastic is a hard one to shake.
Daniel Harris’ new book, On The Road, a journey through a season, is available now from Waterstone’s, Amazon.co.uk and Amazon.com.
Touche'.