TV View: Bewildered Brian leaves no joke unturned to expose mediocre United

Ralf Rangnick’s side turn things around after being exposed by Atletico in first half

The faulty initial draw for this round of the Champions League, you might recall, paired Atlético Madrid with Bayern Munich and Manchester United with Paris Saint-Germain, so Atletico and United were most probably euphoric about being landed with each other when a mortified Uefa had to do a redraw.

It has, after all, been a ropey auld season for both clubs,

Atlético currently 15 points off the lead in La Liga, Diego Simeone looking even more disgruntled than usual, United 17 points adrift of their ear-piercingly noisy neighbours, leaving Ralf Rangnick, at times, pining for Lokomotiv Moscow.

In the build-up to these games, managers are, of course, habitually highly complimentary about the opposition, but Simeone let slip this week that he hadn’t watched United since 2013 by suggesting that they’re “one of the best teams in the world . . . intense and dynamic”.

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Damien Delaney almost had a coughing fit when Tommy Martin told him about this, but what he neglected to mention – and this was poor on Tommy's part – is that these players have been living under a brutal regime since Rangnick's arrival, recent leaks from the dressingroom alleging that the German asks them to work hard in training, run quite a bit in matches and, worst of all, sometimes shouts at them. We could be talking post-traumatic stress disorder here.

Smoke break

Brian Kerr didn't take that in to account either when he analysed some of United's worst bits from this season's Champions League, eg "Rashford, I don't know where he is . . . Pogba's having a smoke . . . Maguire's pointing to Bailly, saying a Hail Mary, 'I hope he survives'.

“Matic is running back like he’s carrying a ton of coal . . . and when Ronaldo’s left on the bench he has a face like a robber’s dog.”

And while he had a hunch they might sneak a draw, he wasn't wholly impressed by the team news which saw Rangnick deciding no right back at all would be better than either Aaron Wan-Bissaka or Diogo Dalot.

The assumption was that centre back Victor Lindelöf would fill in on the right, his versatility only bettered on the night by Brian himself when Tommy asked him to switch from analysing United to his take on Vladimir Putin’s formation against Ukraine.

“I don’t know how the war is going to play out . . . Russia moved 200,000 troops on to the borders of Ukraine, they’re probably going to go in to action,” he said, the likelihood, then, Tommy concluded, that the Champions League final would be shifted from St Petersburg.

Silky João Félix

After the start United had to the game, featuring that worldie of a header from Atlético’s wunderkind João Félix, it didn’t seem like the location of the final would greatly concern them, unless they wanted to spectate at the game.

At times Atlético appearing to have 200,000 troops stationed in midfield, so outnumbered did Fred appear to be, his comrade Pogba too busy having a smoke to assist.

The very much maligned Fred, incidentally, responded to his critics a few days ago in a quite exquisite manner.

“I’m not the best player, the most technical, but I give my blood and life every time I’m on the pitch - as we say in Brazil, I carry the piano for the artists to play.”

The trouble was, come half-time, Damien reckoned United were bereft of piano carriers, and their artists had gone absent without leave. Rangnick just couldn’t get a tune out of them.

“They were like rabbits in the headlights, like a non-League team,” he said, Tommy concluding that “Atlético have been vintage, United have been garbage”.

United transformed

But football, as we’ve learned by now, is a game of two halves, and while it would be a slight exaggeration to say that United looked like one of the best teams in the world after the break, they at least woke up, and, every so often, were reasonably intense and dynamic.

Not least in the 80th minute when Bruno Fernandes tickled the ivories and delivered a very lovely pass in to the path of the artist that is Anthony Elanga. Goal!

Holy moly, life in the tie yet.