Despite the euphoria of the climactic, giddying 6-1 win over their arch-nemesis, the joy for the Blues team was short-lived as they were well aware that they could ill afford to get carried away with the transient bliss of the temporary victory.
Although the scoreline reverberated around the solar system riding a shockwave of utter disbelief, it was still a mere three more points regardless of the disparity of goals or lop-sided imbalance in the winning margin. Looking ahead, there were still another seven long months of arduous work ahead to broker and manage if they were to end the unimaginable ordeal of a 44-year wait for a league title that had long looked like just a black dot fast disappearing in the distant horizon.
Symbolically the significance of the three late goals that emphasised City’s new, emerging dominance was laced with delicious irony that ultimately proved to be vital on a dramatic final day of the season when red-hot, young Spaniard Sergio Aguero’s astonishing late winner against QPR kept the Blues level with the Reds on points – hence clinching the title with their superior goal difference.
Ultimately, the five-goal margin at Old Trafford became a 10-goal swing in the league table, resulting in City winning the league with a goal difference which was better by eight.
At this juncture, it would be pertinent to flashback to a period in time prior to this to better understand what had led to the recent unfolding of events culminating in ‘The 6-1’.
United supremo Alex Ferguson had been predictably bellicose, and downright insufferably belligerent, in his abrasive reaction to City’s take-over by foreign-vested interests in 2008, haughtily declaring that the Blues would assume top-dog status in Manchester “over my dead body” , which would soon become an utterance that prompted the infamous Ferguson gravestone placard that one fan carried to the Premier League trophy parade in 2012, which got Carlos Tevez into a spot of trouble for brandishing the placard when it was handed up to him on the open-top bus in plain sight for all to see.
The following year saw the celebrated United gaffer also, after the exciting 4-3 win at Old Trafford in 2009, perfunctorily swatting away City’s impending rise as being nothing but a minor irritant, likening them to nothing more than “noisy neighbors” who needed to be put in their place like brats needing a good spanking.
The general pervasive feeling at the time was that this was “typical City”, dashing headlong senselessly and “going down with a billion in the bank” as sung in the early days following the 2008 take-over by the supporters, who were somewhat imbued with a sense of pessimism.
The rest of the Premier League, as well as a sizable section of the City support, had really fully expected the whole new City cart to go bottoms-up, with the script that Sheikh Mansour would walk away in disgust, and that City would revert back to being the butt-end of every United supporter’s scornful humor.
However, by the time that fateful day of October 23, 2011 dawned and unfolded, it was clearly apparent that the entire script had been altered.
The new City owner’s executive team had put in place an incisively intelligent, serious plan and loads of money to back it. Equally vital, they had in Roberto Mancini a manager – who besides having the matching big kohonas and gumption – who relished the chance to baffle and outsmart the Old Trafford hierarchy. Besides, in addition, this time they were convinced they had a team with the prerequisites to carry out the extermination work. And to top it all off, Mancini viewed Fergie’s fearsome reputation more as a challenge to be overcome rather than as a daunting nemesis.
The cool Italian Blues boss had boldly declared, with an audacity that greatly endeared him to City fans, that even if it might all blow up in his face, he would still do all he could to “tear down” the mocking “34 Years” banner at the Stretford End that insultingly stigmatised their shame, a banner that was updated every season to reflect the cumulative number of years since the Blues last won anything.
The City boss had pulled a decisive victory over their arch rivals the previous Spring, going one up on United in the FA Cup semi-final at Wembley before completing the job with a final triumph over Stoke. And the Stretford End banner was suddenly quietly removed.
The win at Wembley eptomised the momentous shift in the balance of power between the two Manchester clubs and the resulting 6-1 win six months later only served to underline it beyond any lingering doubts whatsoever.
City had succeeded in ending their agonising 35-year wait for a trophy but United upped the ante by winning the Premier League – and then proceeded to aggressively flaunt their victory by pinning their winner’s medals on their chests on a night out in Manchester, something the City boys were very unlikely to miss.
When derby day came at Old Trafford, City’s brilliant start to the season saw them top with two points ahead of United. Yet, somehow, the old anxieties were still fluttering around them.
114 years. That’s how long it had taken for City to achieve this best start to a league season. The fans had already become very accustomed to disappointments at “The Swamp” with Benjani’s fortuitous glancing header gifting them the 2-1 win in 2008, which was their only triumph on enemy territory in 32 years.
This time, a legion of 3,000 City fans with tickets barged their way into Old Trafford, armed psychologically with the belief that their team was better than that of United, albeit still harboring fears about the eventual outcome.
City’s talisman, Carlos Tevez, had shone in the League Cup semi-final defeat, but had suddenly been compelled to train alone after his controversial bust-up with his boss Mancini during the Champions League defeat at Bayern Munich.
United suddenly sensed that the situation was possibly favoring them with their bitter rivals huddled in disarray and possible mayhem, with the news going public of Tevez being at odds with his manager, aided and abetted by regular stories of bust-ups at the Etihad training grounds. Then, adding to the histrionics, news emerges on the eve of the game that Mario Balotelli and friends had scandalously almost set fire to his Cheshire home by staging a fireworks show in the bathroom.
Redneck Balotelli – an occasional, sporadic talent on the field – was always apt to be more of a liability hogging the headlines off the pitch than on it. His close brush with the city’s fire brigade just two days before the game obviously make it seem that City’s proclivity for screw-ups could still be relied on, despite all the buckeroos their owners possessed.
The fire incident, made even more memorably ludicrous by Balotelli’s T-shirt histrionics flashed across the following day’s ensuing headlines, were but garnishes appealingly dressing up an appetising dish of drama served the City way.
The crucial mistake that United had been led to commit was that they had actually believed that the often volatile nature of the City squad, together with their relationship with Mancini, would cause their rivals to implode but in reality, the incendiary City traits actually creatively fed the fires burning in their players.
City fans – fully aware of their own side’s uncanny ability to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory – had to manage in agony and impatience United’s notorious penchant for late comebacks and only began to enjoy the day during the last ten minutes of the match, when Dzeko’s two goals, and David Silva’s cheeky nutmeg finish on David De Gea, made the victory certain.
City knew they were the better team, and they had again shown it.