Once Manchester United's 'fans' put down their prawn sarnies, they'll learn to applaud Dimitar Berbatov

By David Maddock

Published 12:42 06/10/09

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I wonder whether scientists have established a link between the consumption of shellfish and a fickle nature?

I ask only because the wildly fluctuating loyalties of a certain section of the Manchester United support leads me, naturally enough I feel, towards the subject of prawn sandwiches.

Old Trafford is home of some of the most passionate, loyal, committed supporters in world football. But its corporate scale and hard-business mentality means it also entertains those fans best described as football tourists - the Premier League equivalent of the camera-toting hordes that trample through Europe's great cities every summer.

It is these tourists who give the famous old stadium its eerie, soulless feel at times, and reduce the atmosphere to that of the cricket ground across the road during a rain delay.

It is a necessary evil of course, because United need their corporate glory-seekers to finance their lavish spending on a star-studded line-up, and I have nothing against them in principle. After all, football is there to be watched by everyone, not just the committed few.

What bothers me though, is that United seem to be attracting more and more of the sort of fan who has opinion without knowledge. They are the sort of 'fans' who cling onto bandwagons for grim death, and then happily switch to the set of horses galloping in completely the opposite direction.

Perhaps the greatest example is that of Ryan Giggs. Maybe five or even six years ago, there was a murmur of resentment against him, with so-called supporters suggesting he was past it and that he should be put out to grass.

Never mind the fact that statistically - and logistically - he is the greatest player in the club's history, that murmur grew to a swell, with even rational United fans calling for his departure, until 18 months ago it was hard to find anyone prepared to accept he was any good, never mind that he was in fact, still a bone fide genius (as I have to smugly say I did in the pages of the Mirror when everyone else was slaughtering him).

Now, of course, Giggsy is getting his dues, with the same fans who crucified him saying that the team can't do without him, and asking why the hell he was left out of the squad against Sunderland. It makes you weep.

The same applies to Darren Fletcher. Again, I do this without the 20-20 vision of hindsight, because for years I have argued (in print) until I was red in the face about his abilities, only to be shouted down that he was useless and must be Fergie's love child to keep his place in the team. Go on, admit it, how many of you said that?

Now he is the player whose absence cost United the Champions League final, the key ball-winning, ball keeping component in a midfield that cannot operate without him. Can't you just hear the sounds of those galloping hooves changing direction.

So, it is with a mixture of resignation and weary regret that I offer the latest defence of a United player, and suggest that already I can hear the faint stirrings of a bandwagon creaking towards reverse gear.

Dimitar Berbatov has been well and truly mullered by his own supporters, even though in his first season he helped win the Premier League and get his side to the Champions League final.

They said that Stephen Hawking does more running than him, that he is slower than a condom stall in Vatican City, and lazier than a squat full of students. Needless to say they suggested he was a complete waste of money and should be sold. Just like Fletch and Giggsy.

Now, after an inspired performance as an early substitute against Wolfsburg in the Champions League, those same critics are suggesting that, actually, he is a misunderstood artist, he is a technical genius with the gifts and vision of Cantona, and it must be true because Phil Neville said so on the telly, and he played with Eric, didn't he?

When United quite magnificently snatched an unlikely win at Wigan towards the end of last season, thanks to the energy and persistence of Carlos Tevez, I argued in a column then that in the long run, it was the artistry and technique of Berbatov that would serve United best, and not the misplaced enthusiasm of the Argentine.

Tevez is a crowd pleaser because he runs around like a headless chicken, apparently in the cause of his team. Yet Berbatov does far more running than people think - check the stats and you'll see he's always in the top two or three in his team for distance covered - it's just that he does it subtly and intelligently.

One day very soon, the bandwagon-jumpers will wake up to that fact, and realise that their centre-forward has an unworldly talent that other mere mortals can only marvel at... but only probably because they have been told by television that it's OK to support him now. 

Then they'll go back to munching on their prawn sandwiches, looking for their next target. But then, they do say that shellfish can produce an allergic reaction.