Winning

I don't often get round to doing the paper round up these days, but I couldn't let the occasion of our glorious victory pass without some comment.  Consider this the souvenir edition of the paper round up, like the Royal wedding gossip magazine specials I've been seeing on the supermarket checkouts the last few weeks.

Almost unanimous praise for us today.  With a display like that how could it not be? Perhaps the most succinct description comes from Kevin McCarra in The Guardian:

While the result did not reflect the trouncing that had been inflicted, everyone present understood United's superiority. 

Even Chelsea understood it.  When they scored they seemed sheepish, as if they knew it was undeserved, they went through the motions of running back quickly to their half, but their was no belief that they could make up the goal.  They were defeated from the 37th second.

On The Guardian blog Daniel Taylor makes a similar point:

But what football they played here. It was one of the more exhilarating, affirmative and brutal displays imaginable and, by the final whistle, it felt almost freakish that there was only one goal between the sides. Everything clicked. It was bewitching stuff and, as Ferguson took his bow and the decibel levels soared, Old Trafford reminded us why, half a century ago, a young Bobby Charlton ventured his opinion that walking out at this stadium, with the four vertiginous stands, all packed, and the sound of the crowd, felt like playing in a "theatre of dreams"

He then praises individuals:

Ferguson made the point that United could have scored six in either half. Park may just have played the greatest game of his life. Antonio Valencia tormented Ashley Cole far more than Cristiano Ronaldo ever used to. Ryan Giggs was imperious. Nemanja Vidic negated the threat of Didier Drogba. Michael Carrick has reinvented himself. Ditto Wayne Rooney, playing once again like the player of old, a constant menace. Rooney will not care to remember the first two-thirds of this season but the careworn guy of last autumn has re-established himself as one of the world's authentic superstars – and gives the impression it is where he wants to stay.

With so much praise flowing Henry Winter's prose seems less purple than usual in The Telegraph, though he still manages to make the first goal sound epic:

Giggs, Park and Hernández flew through the champions, cutting through within 36 seconds to score. Red Devils? They were more like the Red Arrows.

This was United at their best, moving with speed and skill, giving an opponent little chance to form a meaningful barricade. Giggs teased a pass to Park, who let the ball run across him and then swept it forward.

Chelsea had a split second to stifle the whirlwind, to keep their title dream alive. They missed it. David Luiz should have cut Park’s ball out. He missed.

Hernández did not. A twitch of the Mexican’s shoulders wrong-footed Petr Cech, a strike from his right boot sent the ball racing into the net, bringing almost a guttural roar from the United support.

In The Mirror Martin Lipton talks up the gap between the teams:

It was a mauling, a massacre, the sort of comprehensive dismantling of your closest rivals that can take years for a team to get over.

As Old Trafford rose as one to celebrate the triumph that will surely be confirmed at Ewood Park next Saturday, the dividing line between trophy haves and have-nots has never been so graphic.

Chelsea might have spent £75million in January but in the final analysis it made no ­difference. Didn’t even close the gap a fraction.

And points out that if Howard Webb had been our man it could have been worse:

Indeed, rather than Howard Webb giving United the benefit of the doubt as Sir Alex Ferguson had wanted, the referee could easily have sent Chelsea down to 10 and awarded two penalties.

Those potential ­decisions illustrated the gulf

It makes the victory, not sweeter, but it's better that Chelsea have no excuses, can't point to a sending off leaving them with 10 men for half the game or a dubious penalty decision.  They've nowhere to hide, the way we played just made it seem like we had an extra man regardless of Howard Webb's refereeing.

The Independent's James Lawton's is the only match report that really begrudges us the victory - he's quite the curmudgeon - only his beloved Barcelona are allowed to play great football:

Whatever you think of this United team, even if you consider its success represents one of the sharply lesser peaks in the history of English champions, it is impossible to argue with the habit of mind that created it.

It is one that simply understands how to win in almost any circumstances.

Translating this massive stride towards the title into evidence that Barcelona can be given a serious challenge, and perhaps even defeat in the Champions League final at Wembley later this month, may still be something of a reach, but there is no doubt that United once again produced at the right moment a killing belief in their own ability to get the right result when it matters most.

Two words: Piss Off.

Words which, if I was Wayne Rooney I would be hung for uttering. The Sun try to muster some outrage for an alleged two finger gesture to Chelsea fans, "Stunned" Chelsea fans according to The Sun, "stunned" by someone sticking the v's up.  Arseholes. A number of other reasons for the gesture have been suggested - indicating the number of challenges Ivanovic had done on him one of them - but frankly, who cares, it's a v sign, not a loaded shotgun - and it wasn't to a camera so the FA really can't do a lot by their own logic. And to add insult to injury they illustrate the story with a picture of Coleen's chest.  Classy.
And there you have it.  Feel free to print it out and store it carefully next to your Royal Wedding souvenir edition of OK...
Bring on Saturday.