‘The question surely vexing Ferguson is the one that many an observer is asking: what on earth has happened to Paul Scholes?
‘For nearly a decade Scholes has been the most respected English player in the Premiership. Thierry Henry calls him the most fearsome opponent there is; Kevin Keegan, when he was England manager, used to base his entire tactical scheme around the diminutive Mancunian; and Eric Harrison, the player's youth team coach at Old Trafford, still cannot talk about his sumptuous range of skills without breaking into a broad grin.
‘The fans, meanwhile, don't so much respect him as adore him. The Stretford End's song about him rhymes his name with goals. Appropriate, too, as Scholes used to score them in huge variety, from tap-ins after he had ghosted unnoticed into the penalty area to sumptuous volleys struck from so far away he was in another postcode at the time.
‘What has always been so refreshing about him is that in an era of bling and celebrity, he just gets on with the job. Not for him nightclubs or Ferraris or inviting Hello magazine round his lovely new home, he just plays football. When it comes to a new contract, with Scholes the negotiations generally last the time it takes to sign on the dotted line.
‘This season, though, Paul Scholes has not scored goals. Of any type. Moreover, at times the only concrete evidence that he has been playing for United has been his name on the team sheet. For a man who loves nothing more than football, he is playing as if he cannot stand the game.
‘The nadir was reached on Tuesday night in the Champions League tie with Lille. Off the pace, missing his passes, never quite in the right place at the right time, he lunged late at an opponent and was sent off. On his face as he trudged away was the look of a man who had put his foot on the accelerator and found no response: he had run out of gas.
‘The problem for Ferguson is that Scholes' form has a disproportionate influence on the whole team. While Keane provides the energy, the passion, the drive, Scholes is the creative source from whom springs the unexpected reverse pass, the threaded through ball, the assist that wins games. Without him dropping what Keegan once called "little hand grenades", United have no spark.’