Wenger is dicing with his job

Watching a demented Arsene Wenger patrolling the technical area at the Emirates on Sunday was to witness a man locked in a spent ideology.

My frustrations really help put my boys at ease... not!

In the latest instalment of Arsenal's self-destruct season, a 2-1 home defeat to Aston Villa, Wenger only succeeded in transmitting his own frustrations to his talented crop but they couldn't play for toffee because of it!

And at six barren trophy years and counting, Wenger must adapt or die. With Manchester City en route to third place and the final automatic Champions League place, the barking Alsatian's piled still more pressure on himself at the start of next season. The Gunners will have to fit two more games into their early season to confirm qualification.

A place at Europe's top table was seemingly an Arsenal rite but as Liverpool have found out, not anymore. So Wenger needs to take a long hard look at his ideals and change; his attitude to the transfer market and his ways of looking at his own players.

By signing Jens Lehmann and Sol Campbell, it's as if Wenger wants dependable old generals in the dying embers of their careers, so as not to upset the development of his classy youngsters.

It's too easy this, fitba' bloody 'ell!

Trouble is, his classy youngsters aren't all that. Gone are the born team leaders; no Vieira, no Adams, no Henry. Instead we're left with fine young talent, none of whom assume the alpha male leader's role. They're like Yorkshire terriers dribbling the ball round in semi-circles with their noses.

Scott Parker mightn't be a classic Wenger player, but he'd inject craft and experience into the Arsenal midfield. I'm sure Darren Bent would've been the focal point of many Arsenal goals from January onwards and probably a title tilt too.

Put it this way; when November comes, if the Gunners aren't in every competition and challenging for the title, then the new owner, Stan Kroenke will be taking a long, hard look at the manager.

Wenger needs only to look at another great boss, Sir Alex Ferguson. His generations of teams are pragmatic enough to win titles and cups throughout time. I mean, would a Roy Keane, Steve Bruce and Eric Cantona be part of today's quick, fit and mobile teams? I contend not. Fergie moves with the times, even accepting that player's mentalities are different to how they used to be.

David Dein believes that every manager has his shelf life. Now that Arsenal has changed again, is Wenger willing to change with them?

When the seagulls follow the trawler: Cantona at United

For all the stars who've graced the Manchester United shirt, Eric Cantona stands alone as the most iconic and charismatic.

Collar up, arched back, straight arms.

Far from the Best, Cantona rather underperformed in the Champions League, never figured for his country when they won the trophies - and only really turned it on in the Premier League and FA Cup.

But his impact domestically was total. Hughes was committed, Keane courageous, Giggs robotically consistent, Rooney talismanic, Ronaldo mercurial. But it's Eric The King who framed the era of Sir Alex Ferguson with his unique brand of swagger, raffishness et victoire.

We'll never see his like again, on or off the field, encapsulated in eleven seconds by that extraordinary news conference painted a pretty picture on his verbal easel.

"When the seagulls follow the trawler, it is because they think sardines will be thrown into the sea".

Ironic that sublime eloquence should be borne of extreme violence. Cantona's Kung Fu kick at Selhurst Park on racist fan, Matthew Simmons was shocking and he was severely punished for it.

With aloof demeanour, arched back and turned up collars, Cantona steered United to the league the year Kevin Keegan's Newcastle should've won it - then to the Double with a goal of spectacular technique against The Spice Boys of Liverpool, white suits and all.

Cup winning strike at Wembley

Two goals spring to mind. The Newcastle-slaying volley at St. James' Park which handed United advantage in the title race and a fantastic chip against Sunderland, where Eric turned to acclaim the adulation from all four corners of Old Trafford by puffing out his shoulders like a tinpot dictator!

Cantona was so disillusioned by his nine-month world football ban that he had to be talked out of quitting for good by Fergie.

The United boss roamed Parisian alleyways on the back of a moped searching for his errant genius. He found him, talked him down and Cantona returned to Old Trafford scoring against Liverpool.

But before United's greatest triumphs - the 1999 treble - Cantona had gone for good, and it was the right decision. In his autobiography, Managing My Life, Sir Alex describes "the thickening process" in Eric's body. The first signs of a middle-age spread. Cantona's motivation had gone. Beach Football and Movie Stardom beckoned.

I watched him a summer later playing Professional Beach Football in Hyde Park. You have to be fit to play on sand - and he really was. There was probably a Championship season left in him. Full, potty crowds would have rolled up to see him - but the stage just wouldn't have been big enough. Cantona quit at the top, a permanent United legend.

That other famous strike in a United shirt.

Cantona opposed the Malcolm Glazer takeover claiming he'd never return even as manager while the Glazers were in charge. But in July 2008 the Sunday Express reported Cantona's second thoughts. A close friend revealed: “Eric does fancy helping out with coaching at a club like Manchester United. He's been enjoying himself in films and being involved in beach soccer but has always wanted to help produce a team in his style and knows that Sir Alex would encourage him".

Despite his vow that he'd never return while the Glazers remained in control of United it appears his stance has mellowed.

United are too big a behemoth to take a chance on Cantona as United's next manager. But don't write off a return to Old Trafford for a man who has a relationship with his fans like few others.

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Also on Soccermongery, check out our Top Story today.

Fergie's News Conferences are sometimes better than the game itself!

I try to keep a football appointment every Friday lunchtime with Sir Alex Ferguson's pre-match news conference. I'm glued for his weighty growls born of weary experience, his gossipy views on other clubs and managers none of which are his goddamn business - and a gem of a quote from his industrial gob: Made In Govan!

Despite his many years in the spotlight, he's often riled by the assembled hackery.

The touchy subject of Real Madrid's unending pursuit of Cristiano Ronaldo had Fergie spitting, "I wouldn't sell Madrid a virus, let alone Ronaldo!" But the Govanator eventually did - and Real paid full retail price for the Portuguese. The sort of amount that even Sir Philip Green would've put a cigar on for.

Other times, he's a master of the room. A few years back there was a ridiculous tabloid flyer in The Mirror alleging that Fergie was part of a consortium ready to takeover Manchester City.

Next day, he faced the media to preview a Champions League game. Someone dared ask him about it. In response, he neither issued a denial or any kind of quote worthy of taking the story on. He snapped back to the wee hack:

"Whassat gottae do with this? we're here to preview this game ... !", silence.

A Fergie denial of any kind would've been printable as a follow-up but he's too canny for that. The story disappeared without trace the very next day - and his handling of it in that moment was the reason why.

A few seasons ago, I was at Charlton for a United game and Fergie came out of the tunnel ten minutes to kick-off and continued a casual conversation on the touchline with an old football friend while scores of photographers snapped away. But it was like it wasn't happening around him. He totally blanked it. A measure of his years in the cauldron and the inner steel which shows he never lets the pressure cloud his own principles.

Back in the Press Room, my favourite Fergie moment was ahead of a tough trip to Galatasaray, one of the most intimidating stadia in all of Europe. It was the first return to Istanbul since the acrimony of an Eric Cantona dismissal after the final whistle of a bad-tempered exchange. A thoroughly professional performance would be required this time to avoid similar ugly scenes.

So a question came from the floor, "Are you at all concerned to return here with your big name players to a place of such open hostility?"

Fergie's face was a picture. He replied, "Well, you've obviously never been to a wedding in Clydebank!"

I tell you, if it's been a good week for football stories then try and catch Fergie's Friday Football Fare. He'll always deliver something to make you chuckle, unwitting or otherwise.

United's enduring love affair with the FA Cup

By JOE MORRIS

In his second Soccermongery article, Joe recounts Manchester United's love affair with the Cup. I can't entirely forgive United for shunning the world's greatest cup competition in 2000 opting instead for the World Club Pot, but the FA Cup is experiencing a renaissance and United's cup bids now reflect the tournament's grandeur.

If the FA Cup is the most romantic competition in the world, then Stanley Matthews and Ian Porterfield would have been chocolates and flowers men. Both Matthews and Porterfield were the knights in shining armour and the Cup will be eternally indebted to them.

In 1953, a couple of weeks before the Coronation, a spindly-legged wing wizard called Matthews twisted the Bolton defence in knots. He swayed. shimmied, shuffled and finally bamboozled a Bolton side who seemed to have the match under their belt. Matthews was tricky, deceitful and by the time Stanley had finished with them, Bolton were glad to see the back of him. Matthews, backed by a willing nation, won the Cup for Blackpool.

Exactly 20 years later a long-haired lad named Ian Porterfield brought the old Second Division underdogs Sunderland to an ecstatic standstill when Bob Stokoe's red and white striped army lifted the Cup. From a perfect Bobby Kerr corner, the gangling Porterfield loped up from the back, trapped the ball with the skill of an acrobat on his knee, and thumped the ball ferociously past the Leeds United keeper David Harvey.

The FA Cup has never been short of defining moments: there was Ricky Villa hip swivelling past a stunned Manchester City defence, just one of Spurs' three winning goals in the 1981 Cup Final. Poor Leeds United had no answer to a Ray Crawford inspired Colchester during the early 1970s. Ronny Radford, shirt hanging out of his shorts, slid over the mud of Edgar Street to snatch an equaliser for Hereford against a well-organised Newcastle.

Allegedly the FA Cup has lost some of its popularity but you could say much the same about ten pin bowling. The Cup will never lose its essential worldwide appeal, and three years ago produced perhaps its most spellbinding Final for years. The match had so many fascinating twists and turns that Liverpool and West Ham seemed to take the game to its loftiest level.

Throughout their illustrious history, Manchester United and the FA Cup have almost been inseparable. The Cup took on a whole emotional resonance when United were beaten by Bolton in 1958. This was the year when the delectable Busby Babes were tragically taken from us on a snowy Munich airfield.

In 1963 Matt Busby stuck the proverbial two fingers up against the world when his newly re-modelled United team ran rings around Leicester City. It took another 14 years before the cheeky and extrovert Tommy Docherty convinced Lou Macari, Sammy McIlroy, Steve Coppell and Stuart Pearson could overpower an exceptionally intelligent Liverpool side with Double-winning designs.

During the 1980s Ron Atkinson's United flounced and swaggered their way to Cup Final victories against Everton and Brighton respectively. United, it seemed, had a lease and mortgage on the FA Cup. There was Ray Wilkins, a player who brought dignity and stateliness to United's midfield, Norman Whiteside, one of the youngest players to appear in a Cup Final who had the most ravenous appetite for the game.

At the beginning of the 1990s Sir Alex Ferguson added yet more ornaments to United's well decorated trophy cabinet. United finally overwhelmed a dogged and obstinate Crystal Palace side. Half way through the decade a showman and exhibitionist called Eric Cantona took on Liverpool almost single-handedly and then scored the winning goal through a forest of Liverpool legs. Chelsea were also unravelled by United with the kind of performance that bordered on the spectacular.

In their 2-1 defeat of Spurs on Sunday, United once again stepped up to the plate with a display of craft and delicacy. touch and perception. It lacked some of United's traditional silks and satins but there was an unmistakable buzz about Old Trafford that sent a shiver down the spine.

Michael Carrick. via West Ham and Spurs, is beginning to look the most controlled midfield player in the country, Paul Scholes looked like a master of his trade and Danny Welbeck, although leggy, strolls and then strokes the ball with languid arrogance. Dimitar Berbatov could yet become one of United's most prized finishers.

Then of course there is a young Portuguese winger with matinee idol looks. Cristiano Ronaldo and the FA Cup were somehow meant for each other. Ronaldo, World Footballer of the Year is now wanted by more or less every club on Planet Earth - and with every justification.

Ronaldo went through the familiar routine against a Spurs team with too much on their mind. There were the bewildering stepovers and dragbacks that are turning into his stock in trade. At one point Spurs were being pulled in two different directions. So the bricklayers and carpenters of the non League take their leave of the FA Cup. Little Kettering of the Blue Square Premier are out of the Cup and the rest of the big boys will fight it out for a day at Wembley.

But for Manchester United the love affair with the FA Cup may never fade. Their courtship with this famous Cup will remain a passionate one. For as long perhaps as time itself and football.

Also on Soccermongery: Jonny's TV Guide to watching Football on TV... er... nil-nil, Jeff!

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