FINAL FLING
It was John Cleese, in Clockwise, who said: "I can take the despair. It's the hope I can't stand." Manchester United fans would beg to differ. Usually, the best thing about pre-season is the hope: reality's incisors have yet to pierce the gums of optimism, and fans can live off the balmy, often barmy belief that this is their year.
For supporters of most of the other 91 English clubs, that's the mood right now. For United fans? Forget it. After three seasons of papering over the cracks, it seems most United fans are awaiting the moment that the fault lines tracing a veiny path across Old Trafford are exposed.
Almost everything about the club reeks of disarray. Owned by the Glazers, who push buttons from a remote hideaway like Dr Evil; run by a manager who shreds his legacy at every turn; almost exclusively represented by the inadequate (Darren Fletcher), the odious (Rio Ferdinand) or a loathsome fusion of the two (Kieran Richardson); unable to close a deal for West Brom's reserve keeper, never mind the new Roy Keane. The signing of Michael Carrick, a Pirlo when a Gattuso was needed, is a band aid for a bullet wound, and a ludicrously expensive one at that.
If anything, it's a surprise that United have bought anyone at all. This summer, they have been like a pathetic drunk lumbering across a dancefloor at 1.45am, trying to get off with everything that moves. No matter how many people they move in for - and if reports are to be believed, United have made offers for dozens of players - nobody wants to go near them. And the one person who surely would, Damien Duff, was allowed to slip into the arms of Newcastle for less than United paid for Patrice Evra. You couldn't make it up. You don't have to.
Just as the glory years of 1992 to 2001 will only fully be appreciated in 20 years' time, so will Ferguson's subsequent negligence. It is particularly bewildering that a man who once exerted such an unyielding grip on every single aspect of the club that he had to be virtually coerced into delegating has let things slip to this extent. Take the Cristiano Ronaldo situation: Ferguson said recently that he had not even spoken to Ronaldo since the World Cup, a staggering dereliction of duty that is in total contrast to the us-against-the-world protection that he gave to David Beckham - and for which, for a time, he was so thrillingly rewarded - in 1998.
Once upon a time Ferguson could play 'who blinks first' with fate and win every time, his iron will shaping his destiny exactly as he wanted. Now he is reduced to uttering garbage like "it's like having a new signing" of Paul Scholes, Ole Solskjaer, Gabriel Heinze and Alan Smith, the irrational if-I-say-it-enough-it-might-happen gibberish you'd associate with a serial loser like Kevin Keegan. These days, the man they call The Hairdryer is full of nothing but hot air.
Ferguson's squad, once so taut, is a baggy mess of has-beens, never-will-bes and Liam Miller.
It is an increasingly inescapable conclusion that, unwittingly or otherwise, Ferguson is winding down, a prizefighter who no longer has the stomach or the wit for an admittedly enormous challenge which, once upon a time, he would have fervently inhaled. Like he did with Liverpool. Ferguson's almost maniacal yearning to "knock Liverpool off their fucking perch" was arguably the single most important factor in United's 1990s renaissance.
It makes it all the more vicious an irony that, 10 years later, he should knock United off the perch he had made for them through increasingly rank mismanagement.
Indeed, it must irk him beyond belief that United are making exactly the same mistakes that Liverpool did: lack of pheromones in the transfer market; laughable, fall-back signings at suspicious and ridiculous prices; deluded ramblings ("we are as good as Chelsea, no question") - and, worst of all, a dressing-room that has spiralled completely out of control. Liverpool's Spice Boys were bad, but they have nothing on Merk Berks like Ferdinand, Richardson and Wes Brown.
Liverpool, Arsenal and Tottenham have all made shrewd, cheap signings and are on an upward trajectory. United are going the other way: they are hugely dependent on Ferdinand and Rooney, but no amount of Carling Cup medals is going to sate their ambition. Then there is the Glazer factor, the full, inevitable horror of which is only just beginning to emerge. United fans think this season is going to be bad. It hasn't even started.