Look, I’m, well, y’know, dead sorry this one’s so late.

But there have been other events – oh alright, ONE event mainly – that overshadowed the away match at Manc United, accompanied by much weeping, wailing, gnashing of teeth and apocalyptic threats of one kind and another. The ether has been suffused with resentment and unhealthy hatred. Still, weird, isn’t it, how a match only a few days old can now seem like it was last season. Yet given our circumstances that was an outstanding result at a stadium which these days is more than a bit bucolic.

During the short journey The Bus was admirably philosophical about Wayne Rooney’s looming departure. The reaction was one of: He’s On His Way So He’s No Longer One Of Us. It’s not an emotion I share but it’s one I understand completely. You can’t blame anybody with that approach anymore than you could blame any fan who didn’t renew his season ticket. (And Wayne did himself no favours with his subsequent choice of interview words and the popular comparison of his sloganed teenage tee-shirt with his new team shirt and the sight of him holding a Manc supporters’ scarf over his head. Oh dear, Wayne. You should have just signed and then got on with it and let your play do the talking. To hell with the media public relations circus.) But nobody was wildly anti-Rooney. For all practical purposes he might not have existed. Which I think is merely one of the sensible ways of dealing with it. Let’s get on with our season. Forget the haters, the poisoned dwarfs blowing their tuppenny tin trumpet to a scatty tune based on a theme by a diseased neurosis. Unfortunately football is no more immune to a tiny minority of these misery-mongers than any other group of humans. The Bus was right.

Mogsy raised his head from his mobile phone to inform us Uncle Bobby had been sacked by Newcastle almost eight months ahead of his due departure and after only a few matches. The game, one feels, gets loonier by the minute. Then, as we alighted from The Bus, a familiar voice informed us The Gravedigger and Joey wouldn’t be playing because they’d been transferred to Hamburg and Newcastle respectively. Moreover, we had signed Earnshaw for 3.5 million. Of course we were bullet proof by then and nobody believed it. Meantime, only Texyla said we’d win. Everyone else said we’d get massacred.

Anyway, as you know, we got a well-earned scoreless draw. We might even have pinched it. This, despite being without Gravesen and Yobo who were apparently injured. Or something. Tim Cahill made his midfield debut and Davey gulp Weir replaced Joey.

The first half was played out almost like a practice match in the sunshine. We were reasonably encouraging, United desultory and unimaginative. Tim Cahill was notable for his non-stop running and refusal to be intimidated by larger reputations. At one point he came shoulder to shoulder with Paul Scholes and simply shrugged him off. All through the half we showed much more determination and teamwork than did the home team. Their recent Tyke acquisition, Smith, got so narky with veteran Davey that he elbowed him in the head while Gallagher the referee did precisely fuck all – as most refs tend to do at Old Trafford when the Mancs are putting it around. Then, the stuff of heroes and legends, Davey had a bandage fitted around his head for the remainder of the match. Played well, too, and frequently the bandage zoomed up out of a central penalty area crowd to butt the ball away at infrequent torrid moments. Marcus Bent once again gave the opposition rearguard a hard time whenever he could, which was much more often than either SuperKev or The Big Yin can manage these days. In fact our relatively good form displayed in the Palace and West Brom matches continued. They Mancs had only one missed clear chance and Nige made one good save from the always-jeered Foot Flutterer. Otherwise we more than held our own.

When we got to half time with it still at 0-0 we began to think the impossible. Texyla joined us and said, “Told you we’d win this. I’m not worried.” Which of course had more than a touch of mad bravado in the face of a threatening universe. The last quarter hour would tell, as it always does.

They got more into it in the second half and hit the woodwork a few times but they never looked likely except for a quarter-hour spell, midhalf. As the tempo stepped up, so did our workrate. By the time the final quarter rolled around Our Gallant Boys could scarcely drag one foot in front of the other. Yet still we threatened a couple of breakaways through Leon Osman down the right wing. In this match he stayed the course much better than previous games, so much so, it would have been no surprise at all had he notched another goal. He has this knack of suddenly appearing on the right to do mischief. I hope he can keep it up as the season wears on.

We might even – should have, in fact – got a penalty when their man handled it so clearly you had to blink to make sure it was so blatant. Needless to say referee Gallagher didn’t give it any more than suspended D’Arsehole would have, or any of the rest of them, particularly the notorious Riley. I don’t suggest there’s any corruption in this, merely a general kind of funk when it comes to the crunch. One penalty in many years speaks for itself. The Mancs always get the benefit of the doubt in such situations, so much so it has become a source of derision for all fans.

Our biggest concern came when Marcus appeared to pull something or other – possibly a hamstring – and then got subbed by The Yin. This only succeeded in slowing what little attack impetus we had left. Then again, the way the opposition centre backs cluster around The Yin has some good comic value as well as distracting them.

So nil-nil was a fair and well earned result. The new team spirit and mutual workrate continues to give us some encouragement where we expected none. Much more of this and I’ll start feeling as crazily optimistic as Texyla. Even with eight months of the season to go. Crazy isn’t the word.

But I do wish the Rooney haters would grow up and deal more humorously. In that respect there were some good signs in this game. After a brief chorus of “One greedy bastard,” it was succeeded by, “Rooney’s gone to Chel-sea.” And then, “Rooney’s gone to Si-tee.” The latter drew broad grins even from the Manc prawn sarny brigade in their glass bowls.

What the Sitteh fans will say next week might be a different kettle of fish altogether. Bring it on, bring it on. We owe them one after last season’s final day disaster.

David Moyes: "The players were great. To come here and get a result is not easy. After seeing the way they played against Blackburn where I thought they could have had four or five, I was worried we would be the ones that they inflicted that on.

"But we set up to keep it tight and the boys have done smashing. I thought Tim Cahill was fabulous on his debut and Leon Osman was terrific again. I'm delighted. We have had a good weekend with the win against West Brom and today's performance." (30/08/04)

Still buzzing after the win on Saturday. And when we beat United on Monday we go 3rd in the table and 5 points ahead of the shite. Happy days

Gary Naysmith could replace Pisto and Tim Cahill could be given his debut, but I reckon he will start on the bench. I think Duncan will get the nod over Super.

David Moyes says: "We go to Old Trafford knowing that we have given them a game there a few times, we have not been disgraced. Now that we have had a decent start with two successive wins, we know that if we can get anything from United then it will be a really good opening. Let's hope we can be nice and positive, do the right things and make it difficult for them, that's the aim."

Kipper's Everton XI To Start: Martyn, Hibbert, Yobo, Stubbs, Naysmith, Osman, Carsley, Gravesen, Kilbane, Ferguson, Bent.

Kipper's Bet. £10 on Everton win (9-1) and £10 Tommy Grav to score 1st goal (25-1)

The good news is Horsehead and Roy Keane are still out injured and the bad news is they are still a good side.