Manchester United win the FA Cup

 Manchester United win the FA Cup

There was a point during Saturday's FA Cup Final between Manchester United and Manchester City when this year's Wembley showpiece bore an uncanny resemblance to last year's confrontation in reverse. Last year, Ilkay Gundogan had fired a rocket of a volleyed shot that opened the scoring within 40 seconds of the kick off. On Saturday though time frames had followed an entirely different patten and how intriguing that would prove.

Now, the renewal of acquaintances between these two Manchester footballing giants had given us another day to remember. Manchester derbies are always highly charged, ferociously fought, unforgiving and unapologetic. But two consecutive FA Cup Finals involving both City and United were bound to be combustible and not for those of a nervous disposition. In fact most of our nerves were frazzled.

Before the game most of us had completely written off  United's chances of even scoring at Wembley on Saturday, let alone one. This time though, the boots were on the other foot, fortunes swaying towards Old Trafford rather than the Etihad. Sometimes football has an innate capacity to catch us off guard. The inevitable is frequently anything but, a perfect example of where things can go wrong even though all the pre-match preparations had been thorough.

Last weekend, City won their record breaking, phenomenal fourth consecutive Premier League title, a colossal achievement that may never be matched or surpassed, certainly in the immediate future. Against a West Ham manager whose manager David Moyes had finally left the club and a team simply treading water at the Etihad, City took full advantage of West Ham's leaking defence again and the result was almost a formality.

Now, City had arrived at Wembley Stadium full of the joys of spring and presuming that all they had to do was to turn up at the national stadium and just sign all of the appropriate forms. Victory against their noisy neighbours Manchester United would just become a straightforward challenge, a feeble obstacle that posed little in the way of any danger. But City, although deeply respectful of United, were never likely to hand out generous gifts to their Manchester Ship Canal neighbours. This was so much tighter a contest than any of us could have predicted. Both Manchester powerhouses meant business this time around or so it seemed.

But Eric Ten Haag, for whom the exit door had probably opened up at Old Trafford, gave his United side one last sharp injection of energy and encouragement. This has not been the season United might have been expecting and for long periods of this year's FA Cup Final, Manchester United seemed to relying on that final boost of adrenaline and, by the end of the day, were by far the hungrier and driven side, a current of electricity running through their team as if refusing to go away from City.

This was yet another FA Cup Final classic and went a considerable way to redressing the balance after last year's Final when United looked like strangers and impostors compared to City's classical students of the game. Once Gundogan had given City the lead there was no way back for their neighbours no matter how hard they must have tried. But Saturday was different, hearteningly possible, as if United had borrowed City's clothes and forgotten to give them back to Pep Guardiola. 

Interviewed after the match, Pep Guardiola maintained that, although he'd won everything the game could possibly offer, there was no way he could be drawn on his future at the club. He made all the right noises, modest and self effacing and suggesting that he'd be at the Etihad come next season. After everything that had gone before him, even the outlandish Malcolm Allison could have never promise the world at City and, before you knew it, Allison was at the Palace familiarising himself with the luxuries and furnishings at Selhurst Park. Watching Crystal Palace would never be anything less than eventful.

The memories of Manchester City and Manchester United were always there just below the surface. In 1948, Johnny Carey's fit and athletic United side had swotted aside Blackpool as if Stanley Matthews hadn't been on the same Wembley pitch. Then, in 1977 the larger than life, colourful Tommy Docherty had provided United with another stunning set of highlights when the Old Trafford club outwitted a Liverpool side who, themselves, were chasing their own Doubles and Trebles. 

During one of their most satisfying and rewarding FA Cup winning days, Norman Whiteside had curled home a stupendous shot after cutting inside from the flanks. United would go on to beat a lacklustre Everton in 1985. During the 1990s there were triumphs against Crystal Palace, Chelsea, Liverpool and an abundance of others too numerous to mention. The FA Cup would prove to be their trusted ally in years to come.

City, for their part, were still shaking their heads in stunned astonishment when Wigan Athletic beat a Manchester City side who must have thought they were hallucinating. Ben Watson's last gasp headed goal from a corner is still regarded as some temporary aberration that had just come out of the blue. That was 11 years ago but for City it must have felt like a rush of the blood to head and would never be allowed to happen again.

Now, City were once again gracing the national stadium for another visit to the Wembley Arch. In 1981, Ricky Villa slalomed his way gracefully through a forest of light  blue Manchester City shirts and brought home the FA Cup to Spurs. For City on Saturday this felt like a paso doble-cum- foxtrot. And then somebody pinched their ballroom shoes and Manchester United were left grimly hanging on for the last dance.

From the first whistle, United showed their gloves to a City side who knew this would be a battle royale but not the one they were expecting. Yet again we were treated to an impromptu chess match where all of United's bishops and knights were confronting the full might of City's castles and pawns. The game was certainly engrossing but for a while it all became very stodgy, cautious and bogged down in stifling caginess. Certainly, for the first twenty minutes or so, the City armada were resorting to thoughtful triangles of passes that looked as if they could just stroll casually through United and score goals at will.

Amazingly City, for all their controlled possession and spider's web of passing and pressing, failed to make the decisive breakthrough and United were still in this one. Then slowly but surely City were rumbled, rocked back on their heels by some of Manchester United's carefully co-ordinated and intelligently constructed attacking movements. It was almost as if somebody had reminded them that FA Cup Finals could be won and particularly against United. Manchester United were daringly constructive, building up clusters of passes in confined areas that threw away the claustrophobia.

At the back for City, normally their strongest card, Kyle Walker was beginning to feel the wear and tear of modern day football, still fast but never comfortable against United. Both Nathan Ake and John Stones were formidable and often impenetrable but there was something lacking about City's otherwise watertight defence. The short, intricate passes were going precisely to feet and then there was a slight momentum but United had all their bases covered. Suddenly Julian Alvarez became a marginal influence without ever threatening to take Manchester City up a couple of gears. Stefan Ortega and Bernardo Silva were still giving City balance and ballast through the middle but even Manuel Akanji could never get anywhere near United on the front foot. Erling Haaland vanished and that was that.

Somehow all the theatricality had gone missing from City's game and all of the attractive one touch football they had entertained us with bore ripe fruit. And so United grew quite rapidly into the game, a side that had re-discovered the quality that had been more or less taken for granted under Sir Alex Ferguson. Their football now flowed freely and fluently, players clearly intent on re-asserting the control that Ferguson had always known they would give to their manager. Premier Leagues had become their divine right and Ferguson never gave up when backs were against walls.

On Saturday, there was a refreshing spirit of independence about Manchester United that some of us thought we'd never see again. True, the days of Beckham, Scholes, Giggs and Butt are no longer the province of the Old Trafford choristers on the Stretford End terraces. There was though, a real air of creativity, a buzz about the place that seemed to get louder as the match progressed. United too, seized the moment as we all privately knew they would. This was too good an opportunity to pass up and Manchester United's defence nullified everything City could throw at them. United were chasing apparently lost causes and determined to make the most of their possession.

With Bruno Fernandes, bustling his way through a flimsy Manchester City's defence, Garnacho always provided an inventive outlet for all of United's brighter and lighter moments. Lisandro Dalot and Raphael Varane were now pushing forward cohesively while Scott McTominay presented the full range of his polished skills. We knew a goal would arrive fairly shortly and United made the breakthrough. 

Uncharacteristically, City were the architects of their downfall. Normally they would attempt to carry the ball out of their goalkeeper and defence with an almost insolent assurance. City love to build and play the game as it was meant to be played. Now Josko Gvardiol, who would have an off day for City, left the ball crucially for City goalkeeper Ederson to come out and collect. There was a brief moment of hesitation and the back pass was far too weak. United, noticing the lapse in concentration, snatched the ball in full flight and Garnacho rolled the ball into the City net for United's opening goal.

Now City simply threw the proverbial kitchen sink at their neighbours United. Varane and McTominay would slice open the City defence with powerful runs into space, outwitting their equally as wealthy opponents with football that had a real splendour and opulence to it. The precociously young Kobbie Mainoo was picking up on City's inadequacies and tussling for every ball. And then it was Mainoo's career defining moment, the goal this teenager would never forget.

Through a whole succession of feet including that Fernandes, McTominay and Dalot, the ball travelled almost too easily for City's liking in a spectacular, multi pass movement that sliced open Manchester City with an almost ridiculous speed of movement. Now Kobbie Mainoo, all 18 years of him, received the cheekiest of passes from Fernandes instep and slipped the ball into the net from close range. Manchester United were working from all angles and all conceivable areas of the pitch. Their job was complete.

City did pull back a consolation goal of sorts four minutes from the end. Jeremy Doku, who might have been a far more fruitful source of goals on the wing, with his jinking and teasing runs outside and inside the United penalty box, finally scored the goal which subsequently proved irrelevant. The game was now up for Manchester City and Fernandes went through now the usual, very modern celebration, shaking the FA Cup gleefully, smiling for the cameras and then jumping up and down with his team mates amid a blizzard of paper and gold confetti.

Oh whatever happened to the traditional lap of honour after an FA Cup Final? Maybe it had been left in a 1950s and 1960s trolley bus or tram. Manchester United will not care a jot. The FA Cup is theirs and Old Trafford is a happy place to be in at the moment. The position of manager may not be quite as clear cut. How we revere Manchester United.