I´m not sure which images depressed me more – United´s offensive forays, Juande Ramos´grimace, or the freezing and barren stadium in Moscow. Actually, I´m quite sure – United´s offensive forays.

Today is a day to scream for Platonic ideals among a world of Aristotlian reality. I am a geometrist first, and an architect second. I want La Sagrada Familia, not The Fountainhead. Please, if you are pregnant, elderly, or under 18, do not read the rest of this post.

I´ve been pretty happy thus far with the blog and comments – no profanities, no ad hominem attacks, but my blood boils and my self-control weakens. As the grip on my inner angst loosens, my fingers batter the keyboards like a hailstorm in Alaksa. It´s October and I´ve had enough. My glass is half full – of wretched, bitter poison.

Valencia´s game-winning goal cannot paper over the cracks. Berbatov´s unusual hustle & bustle cannot cover the peeling paint. Up until the last five minutes, the highlight had been a Gary Neville cross and a Nani header. When typing that last sentence, I had to stop midway and check my temperature. I´m fine. Sortof.

The visit to Anfield looms. Luzhniki stadium deploys artificial turf. Russia is cold in the winter. Excuses pile up on one another and die. I can hear the voices… “Sir Alex is a brilliant tactician who must successfuly wage war on multiple fronts!” “An away victory is always welcome!”

Have the goal-ridden counterattacking days of 2007 dissippated para siempre?

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