ALWAYS nice to see a couple of unfashionable clubs contesting a Wembley final. In theory, anyway. For most of yesterday's match, your average neutral would have settled for any combination of Manchester United, Liverpool, Arsenal and Newcastle.
Even the partisans were not over enthused, to judge by the lack of noise coming from both the red and blue ends of the stadium. Half time was so decorous that we could have been attending a tea party on the vicarage lawn. Only when Fabrizio Ravanelli slammed the ball home to give Middlesbrough the lead in the fifth minute of extra time did one half of the stadium wake up, followed 20 minutes later by the other half, when Emile Heskey bundled home Leicester's equaliser.
Mind you, the supporters' desire to sing out their support had been thoroughly dampened at the start by the new Wembley tradition of playing a record at full volume over the public address system while the teams take the pitch, thus sending the paying customers a message that, in the television age, their active participation is not essential.
In terms of entertainment or excitement, the entire first half was a waste of time. Juninho, man marked not by Simon Grayson, as had been expected, but by Pontus Kaamark, seemed to be suffering from his midweek trip to Brazil, where he helped his national team beat Chile in a friendly. Although the ideas were there in outline, the execution was untypically sluggish.
Middlesbrough's initial energy was provided by their other little midfielder, the frequently overlooked Craig Hignett. Such entertainment as there was came from Emerson, whose erratic performance drew mixed reactions. He aroused hilarity early on when he challenged one opponent with a wild lack of success, ran on to dispossess the next, brought the ball away and then landed flat on his bottom while trying to play the simplest of passes. But awe was the only possible reaction when he tackled an opponent and, in the same movement, performed a simultaneous pirouette and drag back, a feat seldom seen on an English field (and kids, don't try that one at home).
Kaamark stuck with Juninho throughout the match, harrying and nudging, but the ultimate effect was far from the one the Leicester defender intended. Rather than subduing his opponent, the challenges served to make Juninho gradually shake off his lassitude, with the result that by the fourth quarter of normal; time he was starting to look like his usual influential self. A couple of low right wing crosses and a nonchalant nutmeg on Neil Lennon were a prelude of what was to come in the second half of extra time.
He might justifiably have won the cup for Middlesbrough had Spencer Prior not brought him down just outside the area as he collected Ravanelli's superb first time pass and raced towards goal with nine minutes left, after leaving Kaamark stranded. But the cynicism of Prior's challenge was in keeping with a game that grew nigglier the longer it went on, and featured several cross cultural confrontations, notably a face to face incident between Ravanelli and the uncompromising Mike Whitlow, and a catchweight tussle between Heskey and Juninho.
Heskey, in fact, had just been booked for elbowing Hignett when he forced the ball home for the equaliser. But the 19 year old striker deserved his moment, having spent a large proportion of the game on an unflagging patrol of the left wing, chasing long balls and then holding on to possession under pressure long enough for the ageing Steve Claridge and Paul Parker to get into position.
