Manchester United's 1-2 Loss to Crystal Palace: What It Means, a Gooner Reflects

When Arsenal drew Manchester City and Manchester United drew Crystal Palace for the third and fourth quarterfinals of the Carling Cup respectively, a few Gooners might have suspected a play of injustice somewhere, even if they didn't have a ready culprit to blame for the uneasy feeling.

"The recent form of Manchester City all but guaranteed them a place in the semifinal," many Gooners may have thought while silently kicking themselves for such defeatist thoughts.

What's more, a feeling of envy could or may have afflicted them for a day or two at the thought of United's easy ride into the semifinal, while they had to contend with the new gladiators in town.

And when Arsenal did lose to Manchester City, it may have felt like the dreaded nightmare had come true indeed.

Yet again, a few of them may have been unable to shake the thoughts that things tends to favor the two Manchester clubs, never mind that one of the brothers has wallowed in the valley of ignominy for years.

When, however, United lost 1-2 to Crystal palace, it must have felt good.

Guilt may rebuke a mind or two for taking pleasure at someone else' misfortune, but hey, this is football—you either float or sink, and you can't but love yourself; it's the nature of the game. 
How else can you win if you're not partial to yourself?

For some gooners, this latest United setback may soften the pain of their narrow and gut-wrenching loss to City. For United fans though, this is one more case of humiliation before their gloating neighbors, the bitter pill of which they have to meekly, if unwillingly, swallow.  

Many are suspecting that City will win it all. (Is it merely coincidental that their benefactor chose the day after their latest advance to congratulate their effort so far?) What a terrible thought for the young and old Red Devils of this world! For the Gooners, it is a case that calls for clinging ever more tightly to their guns! But not to worry, RVP will see us through. No need for panicky thoughts about Herr Übermensch.

Despite their loss to City, positive feelings continue among the gooners. A day after the loss, the consensus seems to be that Arsenal came out of the duel on top. The justification?  A bunch of millionaires could not even manage a shot on target against youngsters, besides the ill-fated and largely unfair goal. (Gooners won't care whether they too have millionaires on their team, it's all a matter of degree.)

So much for "Rome is on fire," which was everyone's consensus a few weeks ago—set upon the harp's rippling arpeggios, of course.

Gooners trust Wenger again.

Gooners will happily settle for fourth place at the end of the season, a despised comfort of the last six years. Suddenly, what wasn't good enough has become fiercely attractive—such is the play of time and perspective!

But come to think of it, could it just be that the djinn of crisis has left the Emirates for either Old Trafford or Stamford Bridge?

Sir Alex Ferguson fiercely denies it: "We fear no one," he says, as though the mere sentiment is enough to reverse any upstart drawback that rears its head. André Villas-Boas persists in burying his head in the sand. 

Meanwhile the nouveau riche pretenders are doing everything in their power to downplay the importance of the Champions League. It suddenly does not really matter whether they qualify or not—a coveted trophy just yesterday; the measure they had finally arrived—"We are one of the best in Europe!" Whatever happened to walking the walk first?

And after spending over £800 million to assemble the current ensemble, the collector-in-chief intones, "the team is not good enough to win the Champions League!"

Are you kidding me? When will your greed be sated?

Okay, this is the rambling of a pathetic Gooner. So what? Can't a soul be allowed to wallow in neurotic self-indulgence once in a while?

After all, if you too would admit it, you're secretly leering at the latest setback of the high and mighty who were—only yesterday—laughing us poor Gooners to scorn. According them, they had taught us a lesson or two at Old Trafford—the emphasis, note, is on "Old"—and that's after they had taught their upstart neighbors a footballing lesson to show who was really the king in Manchester, a bad case of speaking too soon.

And if you think my ostensible little song is becoming too self-important and that it has carried on long enough, wait until money fails to buy qualification to UEFA's Third Heaven to hear the symphony that'll ring in these corners!

We are entitled to it (are we not?), those who endured the taunts and gloats—and chants—about our supposed crisis in August.

Look who's starting to laugh! Although there's still a long way to go...what a sobering thought!