The boy wonder at his best - a genuine watershed moment
Jason Burt at St Mary's
13 March 2005
Last week a head teacher warned that children shouldn't be allowed to watch footballers like Wayne Rooney on television before the 9pm watershed. Last night Rooney offered his own tea-time lesson as to why they should. The 19-year-old was a threat in all the right ways. Not to the moral fabric of today's youth - he appeared barely to utter a single word, never mind an expletive, all evening - but to the morale fabric of Premiership defences. He was, in all ways, a player to aspire to. Never mind foul language. There wasn't even a foul.
"He had the sort of match that some people would dream about having," player-turned-pundit Alan Hansen purred afterwards. Indeed he did. Even when he was injured, hobbling after turning his ankle near the end, he argued to stay on. No Harry Kewell self-substitution here even if that other Harry, the Southampton manager Redknapp, had jokingly beetled over to Sir Alex Ferguson on the touchline urging him to take Rooney off.
It was, in every way, an immaculate performance. Granted this was Southampton and a makeshift Southampton at that. But they were utterly terrorised by Rooney's football, rather than Rooney the petulant man-child who had so provoked the anger of Dr Chris Howard, the complaining head, after his expletive-fuelled displays against Arsenal and Crystal Palace when the f-off-ometer suffered meltdown. Referees, of course, have been told to tighten up on swearing after those incidents. There was never cause for yesterday's official, Howard Webb, to worry. Not once, it appeared, did he even speak to Rooney.
Instead Rooney was at his belligerent, fearless, inventive best and allied this to an unrelenting appetite. Twice in the first half he struck the woodwork. The first time it was with a fierce side-footed shot that goalkeeper Paul Smith pushed up on to the crossbar only for Rooney somehow to head the rebound wide. He could be forgiven that. Then, on half-time, he brilliantly swerved away from a challenge, bore down on goal and curled a shot which Smith diverted on to a post. Uefa has already commissioned analysis into Rooney's shooting, how he decelerates before striking the ball, how he uses space. This match provided more material for the boffins in Nyon.
Take the goals. After Roy Keane had given Manchester United the lead, Rooney took over. Before this encounter there wasn't a hint that he and Ruud van Nistelrooy could work together - except for the belief that it must be impossible for such forces not to gel. Before they had looked like £46m worth of misfiring, misguided talent. But what they needed were matches and throwing them together against Milan, after Van Nistelrooy's injuries, was one thing. Then they had Cafu and Paolo Maldini. Last night Southampton had Daniel Higginbotham and Martin Crainie, a youth team player hurried in through necessity.
Rooney smelt blood. And that's dangerous when confronted with someone possessing such a fierce killer instinct. He barrelled through two challenges, claiming the ball by sheer desire and slipped a pass to Van Nistelrooy who teed up Cristiano Ronaldo. Then he flighted a pass to the Dutchman who teed up Paul Scholes. And, for the final strike, the combination was repeated. Again it started with a brilliantly weighted pass from Rooney. He was there to set Van Nistelrooy away, charge into the area, and guide a header which Smith did well to parry. "Rooney did what he does best," said Southampton's Graeme Le Saux admiringly. He was probably relieved to be injured for this one.
Rooney's performance was all the more impressive because he was deployed on the flanks. He started on the left and switched, continually and cleverly, with Ronaldo. The two teenage tyros were irrepressible. Their work-rates were unrelenting, their understanding of their allotted roles complete. The goal evaded Rooney and it evaded Van Nistelrooy, despite the assists. But it mattered little. Nothing could ruffle Rooney.
Even a late offside flag saw him simply turn and trot back without a murmur. He was speechless. And that's how his performance left viewers - both at St Mary's and in their armchairs. And probably even Dr Howard.