Manchester United 3 - Newcastle 0
It was a bit like seeing a child rip the wings off a butterfly. But at the end of the day, you could not complain about the result. Manchester United's brutal efficiency had seen off the enthusiasm and verve of the newly promoted Magpies. There was spirit in Newcastle's display, but even at their best, the team in black and white seemed as if they were welterweights thrown into a heavyweight ring. It was always a question of when, rather than if, Manchester Yoo would score. And score they did - three times, with clinical efficiency, none more so than Dimitar Berbatov, who I consider to be the best striker in the EPL when in full flow (eat your hearts out, Messrs. Loo...er...Rooney, Torres and co.) Poor Alan Smith ran the length and breadth of the field to little avail - he was simply up against too much.
Newcastle's best hope would have been to hold United for about an hour and then look for frustration to set into their more illustrious rivals. Alas, it did not happen. United were not exactly at their best, but they still won. Heck, they won 3-0. Now, if that is not ominous, what the devil is?
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