Ronaldo’s departure has taken Messi’s supporters by surprise

Although precise data is unavailable, it is reasonable to surmise that the most-sung song in Manchester this week is Grazie Roma by Antonello Venditti. No one on the United side would ever have imagined they could stage a comeback victory – almost in true Ferguson style, if I may say so, Carrick – in a match that had been flushed down the toilet after just a few minutes and a first half interrupted by fans, now at their wits’ end, throwing objects onto the pitch. Having effectively handed three points to Real, the Giallorossi have now revived a team that appears likely to resume losing as early as tomorrow against Aston Villa, further shredding the already fragile hopes of Red Mancunians, who are now reduced to hoping solely for the suspension of their city rivals, Manchester City.

Let us savour this round of Premier League fixtures, readers (and to you Serie A fans, I’m afraid), because then the international break will kick off again – and without even a Cristiano Ronaldo to pick on, the favourite pastime of journalists who are in Messi’s pocket. If we are to treat the Nations League as a comprehensive competition—not discarding any element—it provides an excellent opportunity to raise a glass of brandy (and, sooner or later, a well-poured lager as well): the call-ups to the senior squad of Jobe Bellingham and Josh King. Jude’s brother – and his official lookalike – is playing brilliantly for Borussia Dortmund, and the 19-year-old from Fulham bodes well for England’s future. We’re up against Spain and Croatia, and let’s hope Harry Kane has got over the hangover from the Ballon d’Or, given how he’s played in the matches since.

I also raise a glass to Amorim, who is currently experiencing a schizoid phase, just as I predicted a few days ago in these pages: to the media in the know, before the derby he was a presumptuous incompetent; after the derby, a genius; and after the Europa League, a ‘brainy’ idiot. Should he beat Genoa tomorrow, he will once again be considered number one. The individual unlikely to regain that status is Massimiliano Allegri, who is receiving ever less support from the friendly press and is increasingly exposed by the on-pitch performances of a Napoli side against whom Manchester United look like a cohesive, winning team. I raise a glass of calvados to Lens, torn to shreds by Como – a team that some even have the nerve to criticise, not because it’s a sham, heartless corporate venture, but because they didn’t stop after scoring their first four or five goals against the French side in the Champions League. Someone should inform the social media moralists that in that farce of a European tournament, goal difference is decisive, and that between 60 minutes of time-wasting and 90 minutes of attacks and goals, even a reactionary conservative like me prefers the latter. But we know full well that there’s always someone who has to complain about something; just think that Italian urologists managed to criticise Francesco Totti, who, during the launch of his book, recounted his prostate examination in a humorous tone: ‘It’s no joke,’ pontificated the leaders of the Italian Society of Urology, with their little fingers raised. And thank goodness it was only raised.