'This was punk against opera, and punk won. Manchester United against Arsenal now has all the fervour and spite of the Buenos Aires derby, Barcelona against Real Madrid or Fenerbache v Galatasaray. Just as we were about to declare Arsène Wenger's Gunners 50 not out, history swung back the other way and knocked them off their perch.
Not that United lack grace or attacking prowess. How could they, when Wayne Rooney, Ruud van Nistelrooy, Alan Smith and Louis Saha all had a run at the Arsenal defence? It's just that Sir Alex Ferguson's men conceded defeat in the aesthetics department by turning this festival of grandstand tribalism into a test of machismo and muscularity, just as they did in last season's FA Cup. The eight-time Premiership champions were fighting not for three autumn points but to preserve an idea. To allow Arsenal to complete 50 league matches unbeaten on the ground where United paraded a European and domestic treble five short years ago would have broken their hold on the English game.
Instead, this morning, United can point to two authoritative conquests over the most elegant team in the land. Not pretty wins, admittedly, but still highly symbolic ambushes of Thierry Henry and Co. Arsenal have not beaten United in six competitive outings. Ferguson is winning the managerial feud, even if Wenger has usurped his role as top innovator and talent spotter.
In their delirium today, United's supporters will not stop to award points for artistic merit. If they do, Arsenal are still miles out in front. It is a measure of their brilliance that they have turned the richest club in the country into an ensemble of guerrillas, scrapping and goading to protect their fading dominance when the Islington canon rumbles into town. Deep into this toxic collision of north and south, Mancunian and cockney, United's players must have been haunted by a voice from deep within. It was the sound of their souls crying out against Arsenal's superior poise and composure. Arsenal sweep and stroke the ball these days. United poke and prod. The inner voice told the home XI that Arsenal are the better, and not just the more successful, Premiership side. `More successful' speaks only of statistics on the page. `Better' is a more piercing, confidence-sapping word.
Arsenal-United conflagrations are becoming ungovernable. Every duel is a potential flashpoint. Every marginally late tackle has the power to ignite the gunpowder stage on which these games are played.
In the stands, Arsenal fans chant, "USA, USA!" - taunting their northern foe over the proposed Malcolm Glazer take-over. Thousands - yes thousands - of United supporters direct vile abuse at Wenger whenever he dares to enter his coaching zone. Honestly, this was no place to be proclaiming the virtues of English society. If Glazer, the pirate, succeeds in boarding the great ocean liner that is Old Trafford, he will need the ear mufflers he always seems to be wearing in TV library footage. One, to block out the hostility of United shareholders and fans, and two, to insulate him from the kind of industrial hatred he probably never hears in his NFL sugar bowl in Tampa.'
If it was a sense of tradition that broke English football's greatest unbeaten run, it showed in Arsenal's shins and ankles. Radox for the defending champions. New life for the challengers.'