Richard Williams on how Manchester United were left in the dark at the Stadium of Light
The voices of history were in full cry in Lisbon last night. Almost 40 years after George Best wrote his name across the European sky, Manchester United returned to re-establish their standing as a leading power in the continent's hierarchy of football clubs.
It was a sign of their recent decline, however, that they allowed a promising start to slip away and found themselves removed from the Champions League at the hands of a Benfica team who may be in the midst of an undistinguished domestic season but whose energy and imagination could not be faulted.
Last night was about the real bottom line. Not about the receipts from television rights or merchandising outlets. Not about the numbers flickering across a computer screen in Florida. This was about 11 men and their manager attempting to prove their right to continued custody of the soul and the traditions of a great football club.
Just as they had on those two historic evenings against Benfica in the 1960s, United turned out in a blue away strip. Not quite the same blue, but a more vivid hue probably designed to come across with greater impact on the television screen.
The blue of four decades ago was a more sombre, workmanlike shade, lacking even a club badge or a manufacturer's logo, but the team of 2005 did their best to make history repeat itself by opening the scoring after six minutes, just as Best had done in 1966.
The presence of Ryan Giggs on one wing and Cristiano Ronaldo on the other also evoked the memory of Best and John Aston. Forgotten was Ferguson's ill-fated experiment with 4-3-3, apparently inspired by his Portuguese assistant. If United were going to go down, they would go down fighting with familiar weapons.
It was instructive to watch last night's match, and the performance of the man in the blue number seven shirt in particular, with the images of Best in action so fresh in the mind. How much space and time the Irishman enjoyed in those days before strict fitness regimes gave full backs the speed and suppleness of wingers.
No such luxury is afforded Cristiano Ronaldo in the crowded areas of today's European matches: his stepovers are performed in spaces the size of a telephone box.
Last night he was also whistled with ear-splitting ferocity by the home fans, who remember his time with Sporting, their local rivals. How they loved it when, after a largely frustrating night, he was replaced by Park Ji-Sung as Ferguson started to play his final cards with 20 minutes left.
At half-time, with Ferguson's side trailing 2-1, Bobby Charlton presented Eusebio with an award. In turn Benfica's greatest player embraced Alex Stepney, whose dramatic save from the Mozambique-born forward's point-blank shot shaped the match in 1968. Other members of the team who were there last night included Jaime Graca, Jose Henriques and Antonio Simoes, their brilliant winger.
Rumours of the present generation's incompetence turned out to have been greatly exaggerated. Their squadron of speedy attackers made United's rearguard look ponderous. Time and again in the first half Nelson and Alcides cut the left flank of the visitors' defence to ribbons, both their goals coming after John O'Shea had been drawn out of position.
Nor could Alan Smith provide even a semblance of cover for the back four. Twice he brought down Nuno Gomes, and twice he stood over the Benfica captain, uttering something that was probably not an early Christmas greeting; his energy would have been more profitably expended in keeping closer to Rio Ferdinand and Mikael Silvestre, whose present form makes it unwise to leave them without reinforcements.
As long as they were only a goal behind, United could cling to the hope of summoning the last dregs of the resilience for which they were once renowned. But the champions of 1968 and 1999 were slower of wit and movement than their opponents, who showed every sign of an awareness that they had their own history and traditions to defend and their own soul to reclaim.
