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IOU: One clever tagline linking Anderson and the Mr Anderson out of the Matrix...

fans viewsPaul's new article on his love for our first Brazilian footballer. Yeah, I couldn't think of anything sufficiently witty for the header of this piece, so I thought I'd come clean; honesty, maybe sometimes the best policy. And yet, I'm not going to let this setback set me back, as it were, in writing my love letter. Like most loves, mine is a pretty much baseless, irrational and completely head over heels one, blind to reason and fate, and it is for our little, Brazilian, magical midfield nugget, Anderson Luis de Abreu Oliveira.
 
Now, I was as excited as any at a real Brazilian coming to United (Kleberson, I'm afraid does not qualify as a footballer in my mind), mainly because of the way I think football should be played; open, passed on the deck, with swagger and technique, not to mention that quintessentally Brazilian cheek, characterised by attempting the impossible in a game, the tricks, the willingness to take the ball even when under heavy pressure, not to mention throwing fifty stepovers over the ball a la Robinho (though our very own Portugese legend has a knack for this also).
 
My summer Youtubing (is that a verb yet? If not, the noun, Youtubery? In any case, I coined this neologism here first) showed me a promising, quick, goalscoring attacking midfield player, so excellent. His early games were a mix of that which we expected, as he is intrinsically a developing player of only nineteen. And yet once put into the first team he showed things we weren't sure he would have. The running with the ball was there, but so was vision beyond his callow years and the sublime execution of his passing. At Old Trafford monday night, I watched in the warm-up as he clipped balls, left foot right foot, short and long, with no interruption of rhythm and no mistakes; it was brilliant, almost as impressive as when I used to watch open mouthed as Veron (a player I actually hated to see go) and Davey Beckham used to play keepie-uppie forty yards apart, the ball never once touching the ground.
 
The other amazing thing about the pudgy faced bundle of zestful brio is that he does extremely un-Brazilian things. He tracks back, he works devilishly hard, he tackles well, he screens the back four when it's needed with a cool maturity, and he can handle the rough stuff. Our game at the Emirates showed him in great light, as he did everything right, passing the ball fantastically and never shirking the physical aspect, throwing himself into challenges and covering the ground with our Owen to ensure we didn't lose what became a pitched midfield battle. Arsenal were lucky to escape with the draw, but little mattered as I, doe-eyed and swooning like a middle-aged divorcee ogling a shirtless builder on the cover of Take a Break, watched the new object of my footballing affections trudge off.
 
Now, I don't do flings. In a football sense, anyhow. My line goes Hughes-Cantona-Scholes-Rooney, with the obvious fanatacism for Keano, Ole Solskjaer and now Mr Ronaldo. But I can't shake the feeling, I'm excited by Anderson, not just for what he is but for what he will be, undoubtedly truly world-class. The fact he marries the muck 'n' bullets to Brazilian flair only makes me all the more convinced. I understand he has only played for United less than half a dozen times, hasn't scored and is only nineteen. I don't care. I love him, with the same sort of blind intransigence an annoying daughter who insists on loving the div with a motorbike and far too many piercings in terrible American High School films does; not that I've watched anything like that you understand.
 
My girlfriend worries when I say "I love Wayne Rooney" or "I love Anderson" but that's because she doesn't understand football love, though I'm hoping anyone reading this does. I also "love" Scarlett Johansson and Rhianna, but that doesn't mean I want to marry them. What am I saying, I do want to marry Scarlett, and if you're reading this Scarlett (she won't be), I LOVE YOU! It's got to be worth a shot...
 
Anyway, Derby up this weekend at OT and if we don't crush them by at least two I'll be heartily surprised. In fact, I am so convinced of victory that if we don't triumph I'll call off the Madill-Johansson wedding. They are abhorrently woeful, and anything other than three points with a trip to Scouseland next sunday with them already breathing down our necks would make for an uncomfortable afternoon. So I beg you United, don't do that thing where we make it hard for ourselves; just be professional, and put them away, if not for the millions of fans, for the deep, enduring, soul-mate love of a student from Coventry and a global megastar actress.
 
Hang on, I've got it! I could do something along the lines of fairytales for the headline...Fairytales...Hans Christian Andersen...
 
Another Fairytale from Anderson!!
 
Nah, I'll save that for when he finally does score, though The Sun will probably nick it now.
 
 
Come on United
 
 
Paul M
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