Well, in the confidently modest words of Bryan Adams’s 1993 compilation album, So Far So Good. Dimat is happy, Torres is less unhappy, our midfield attacking trio of Mata, Oscar and Hazard is eye-wateringly awesome and every game is a goalfest. What’s not to love? Possibly the best thing about it all is that our expectations are still tempered. No one’s talking about the title, no one’s even taking the next match for granted. In fairness, I think that’s with good reason: we’ve been top of the table before and that hasn’t meant anything. Up against a more physical side than Arsenal our fleet-footed number 10s may find life a little harder, but for now, I agree with Bryan: so far, so good. (How could I not, when it’s got (Everything I do) I do it for you on there? Any song with brackets in the title is a winner in my book, it sounds like the singer is whispering a little secret just to you. What’s the song called Bryan? It’s called I Do It For You. (But hey, you want to know something? That “it” that I do for you? That is, in fact, everything.) Meat Loaf is another. I would do anything for love. Would you Meat? (oh yeah, but between you and me, I won’t do that). Brackets in song titles, what’s not to love?)
And it’s not just at the Bridge that things are turning out nicely. Europe took a leaf out of the Chelsea “never say die” book as they headed their own 88th minute equaliser to steal the Ryder Cup from the clutches of the US. Hats off to the Americans for their good grace mind you, in amongst the frustration there were some genuine congratulations at the long putts that dropped to win the cup.
Similarly, I was delighted by AVB winning at Old Trafford, and not simply because taking United down a peg is always a treat. I always felt AVB had a bit of a rum deal at Chelsea: it kind of felt as if he was asked to do one thing while being given the tools to do another, and, as anyone who’s tried to bleed a radiator with a pair of snub-nosed pliers, or write in pencil on a glossy magazine, or wipe a baby’s bum with dry cotton wool will know, that’s not as fun as you might think.
So, so far, so good. Am I giving us the kiss of death with that comment? Well, my track record at predictions suggests otherwise. As does my online gambling account. Damn that online gambling. And damn that bet-in-play crap. The worst thing about it is that it screws with my enjoyment of the game. Instead of enjoying the fact that we beat Arsenal away, I’m griping about Torres not being given a peno since I had 15-1 on a first half spot kick. Similarly, instead of revelling in the Ryder Cup triumph, I’m thinking, I had a fiver on the tie at 13-1, and what does Woodsy go and do? Only give us the final putt. No, no, Woodsy, don’t be generous, he’s got to tap that in. He’s got to see it home. Gambling eh? It’s a mug’s game.
Still, a 4-0 win in the Champions League, top of the league, defending champions of the FA Cup … I wonder what the odds are on the treble? ((I can’t get no) Satisfaction.)