Delicious derby day delirium was delivered with devastating destruction as the Etihad paid perverse homage to the Red Devil’s new Squadron Leader David Moyes.
A 4-1 annihilation of his reviled reds guaranteed a reception way beyond any 4G phone provider as good old ‘3G’ was consumed in a cacophony of irony with the City fans chorusing ‘There’s only one David Moyes, one David Moyes...” well before the final whistle.
As Manuel Pellegrini and Gollum the Glaswegian Gargoyle (3G) had entered the fray as Manchester derby virgins at 16.00hrs, there was only one who waddled away at 18.00hrs having been totally screwed...and it wasn’t the chirpy Chilean chap who could well end up a champion next May.
Manchester City were simply magnificent as they battered and brutalised the Trafford troglodytes in the sumptuous late September sunshine.
Moyes the haunter was transformed into Moyes the haunted, as the superb men in sky blues chased away more than a decade of pain at the hands of the ex-Everton manager.
If this showing is anything to go by, City prefer him in 50 shades of red rather than royal blue, as he and his submissives were subjected to a ‘session’ that even Christian Grey would have approved!
Again and again City penetrated United’s rearguard with searing pace, purpose and precision – Aguero, Navas, Nasri and Negredo – all taking it in turns to ram home their advantage up what was, to all intents and purposes, Fergie’s fundament.
Ferdinand moved as swiftly as a camel with haemorrhoids, and unlike a wine that matures to perfection the Rio vintage is decidedly corked and sour nowadays. Vidic was ‘beasted’ by City’s man from Sevilla on numerous occasions, Smalling gave a performance in keeping with his name and Evra wasn’t even quick enough to foul anyone.
The only source of City regret was the absence of Trafford’s village idiot – Beaker the Buffoon – Phil Jones, the master of contorted discombobulation. Maybe he was at home with his crayons?
It’s alleged that Jonesy boy had verbally abused a seven-year old City fan when Manure triumphed 3-2 at the Etihad last December. The little lad’s ‘crime’ was to have a banner showing Beaker’s utterly gormless expression when the moment dawned that City had won the title in 2012. Not a nice man.
Amid the carnage Moyes could hide behind excuses that this wasn’t his team – only the felon Fellaini – had been signed by Manure’s new boss – the rest were Sir Baconface’s ‘20 somethings’.
Lest we forget he’d inherited the Champions, the perfectly tuned, smooth running, all conquering ‘glory glory’ Man United, Fergie’s funboys. It speaks volumes for the man that he’s managed to make his mark in such a short space of time.
Manuel Pellegrini has done much the same within the boundaries of the city of Manchester, but in a totally different direction. For those who doubted City’s MP in the wake of a sterile display at Stoke – shame on you – for God’s sake TRUST YOUR MP!
His detractors – admittedly a vociferous minority – can once again adorn themselves in their glory hunting gear and praise the manager to the rafters...until the next hint of adversity hits. They are truly not worthy.
But for those who are – the sometimes silent majority – this, the 166th Manc derby was fun in the sun personified. Like a perfect storm, wave after wave after wave of City attacks battered United into oblivion.
Only Rooney played with any gusto in the red ranks. Wayne did indeed score a wonderful consolation free kick for the disembowelled visitors, but only because his friend and colleague, Howard Webb, allowed him to stay on the field, despite a litany of fouls.
The Standing Order for Webb must have continued in the wake of Fergie’s departure. One can only imagine United’s new CEO Ed Woodward desperately trying to cancel it, only to find out the banks were closed on a Sunday. It’s a bit like trying to sign a left back from Real Madrid with ten minutes left of the transfer window – oops.
As for City’s display, well it was sublime for 65 minutes and then the boys in blue broke out the cigars and the after dinner port, having done their day’s work in next to no time.
Superlatives are inadequate for the contributions of Pellegrini’s pugnacious warriors.
Captain Vincent Kompany is the pulse, the beating heart, the essence, the embodiment of everything that’s right about Manchester City. He is irreplaceable and he marshals his men ‘Spartacus-like’ in battle. He also kept United’s stand out man – Rooney under control.
Aguero’s finishing is as lethal as a Mo Farah sprint down the home straight. His first goal - and 50th in City colours - lit the sky blue touch paper in this most one-sided of derbies after a gorgeous hook up on the left wing between Nasri and Kolarov.
Samir flicked a cheeky pass into Alek’s rangefinder and AK47 fired a sniper’s shot across the face of United’s goal. Aguero pulled the trigger to execute the perfect finish. 1-0.
Nasri, so forlorn and demonised following his MIA (Missing In Action) display the last time United came to town, when ducking from Van Persie’s winning free kick, was instrumental in City’s second.
His deft corner was nodded on by Negredo into Yaya Toure who had eluded his marker, the flailing Fellaini. Yaya’s midweek wonder strike against Plzen was replaced by an unsightly ‘knee-nudger’ past De Gea. Nonetheless it was a vision of beauty in added time.
The goal totally buggered up 3G’s half time team talk, but whatever instructions Moyes had mouthed at the interval evaporated in the 47th minute.
Kolarov combined with Negredo down the left flank, before City’s new Spanish striker, as sweet as any Seville orange, outpaced and turned Vidic and bagged his second assist of the afternoon.
With Ferdinand looking as if on his way to a home for the bewildered, Sergio surged into the six yard box and buried the ball into the United net for his 51st goal in City's colours.
Three minutes later and Nasri’s redemption was complete after being crucified for cowardice last December. How fitting that it was a cross from Jesus that saw the Frenchman rise again.
Navas powered down the right wing, Negredo’s run pulled the mis-shapen Manure defence away from Nasri, lurking unmarked with the kind of space accorded to a man with flatulence at an office party.
His volley streaked past De Gea sending the Etihad into ecstacy – simply wonderful.
It was a nigh on faultless performance whereas United must have felt they’d stood on a fault line, such was the seismic wave that floored them. Yes, RVP was missing, but if all United’s eggs are in the Dutchman’s basket, it could be a clucking long season for the Swamp-dwellers.
For City, it’s now a case of can they reproduce this level of intensity, passion and performance when the stakes aren’t perceived as being so high. As superb an occasion as the humiliation of the Reds was, it’s still only three points, the same numerical reward as are up for grabs at Villa Park on Saturday.
A cold, clinical approach, aligned to the fervour and ferocity of the derby demolition, would bode well and would surely see the Premier League champions pennant back at the Etihad next May.
By David Walker