by At times during the opening hour of this game it might have appeared to a casual observer that Phil Foden walked onto the field with a handler in tow; maybe some tolerant elderly relative, there to stand close but not really that close, to chase dutifully, willing to let him show off his work twinkly, like some tired dad on Sunday morning scrolling his phone in the park.
In case Victor Lindelöf, the left back of Manchester United, who tried his best to track and chase and unspecifically block Manchester City’s elite attacker in a game that was ultimately a one-sided neck 3-. 1 victory. This was a thankless security detail. Even with United’s deep midfield filling the spaces, Lindelöf lacked the physical ability to stop this bored, mid-season version of Foden, who is just a different human style, his feet moving too quickly , the tendons set to a different level of twang.
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Perhaps Erik Ten Hag could have acted earlier, and done more to cover a hole that was not usually similar. But Lindelöf was still out there alone on 56 minutes, present but not directly involved, as Foden took the ball from Rodri, a little further inside, the space starting to yawn and become too big , which left time to produce Foden. the most tightly pressed moments the perfect curving dipping shot into the top corner, hit with a beautiful ping just out of the sweet spot. It was an act of great craft and skill, executed in the tightest of spaces, 1-0 down, with City then struggling a bit with United’s swamp-world back-nine defence.
Marcus Rashford gave United the lead in the fifth minute and was his only goal of the game; a single, beautiful pure, beautiful angry strike of the ball into the same top corner. After that United defended for 50 minutes like a group of trenchfoot-and-whisky infantry in the final days of the Western Front.
United give up shots like no other team. The plan here, it seemed, was to stop that, drive bodies into the breach, get the red line up and happy as Ten Hag United set up with seven defensive players in the front 10 Scott McTominay was on top. scorer in this United XI. It’s March. And for a long time it seemed to work, kind of. Punches were sent in, bounced back, thighs and shoulders and backsides were hit. Foden, however, would go on to win the game from another angle.
Deich Cheach moved Diogo Dalot to the left after the equalizer to try and nullify Foden’s influence. Pep Guardiola responded immediately, on the touchline in thin gray slacks and a priestly black roll neck, twirling his arms like a man operating an invisible clothes mangle at mad speed.
Foden went left. And that’s where the second goal came from, created by beautiful angles from Kevin De Bruyne and Julián Álvarez, and Foden’s diagonal run. He only had so much time, even surrounded by all the bodies, to take two more steps and ease the ball past André Onana into the far corner.
Erling Haaland would add a third at the death as the game fell apart a bit. But this was Foden’s day. By the end he had nine shots, two goals, 116 touches, 95% pass accuracy. It was his directness that stood out, his ability to play the razor edge in this team. Foden was in charge of the City here. He has 11 goals and five assists in the past 14 games.
And he’s a really interesting person around here these days, almost a retreat into something. This is a powerful City team. Even De Bruyne has the stature of a unit, a thickness, a way to run past but also through you, like a twinkle-toed rugby union centre.
Here only Foden and Silva in the City starting XI spoke to that longer-term Guardiola legacy of small, hyper-technical midfielders, the skill-gnome template. Thirteen years ago Guardiola won the Champions League at Wembley with a team that seemed to be the template for what football would become under him, the thin little hyper-technicians, pressure dogs, football like Xavis’ endless recycling game.
Last season’s treble winners had that side of power and physicality. Although it was difficult at times to wonder if City were light on their usual craft, John Stones taking the ball in midfield on a day like this really is the best use of resources. Foden was born to play in those confined spaces and he made the difference. He is still only 23, he glides so sweetly, he has begun to dribble more, to reach the outer limits of his own abilities.
Gareth Southgate was watching at the Etihad. There is a feeling that England’s current four-hundred-choice front could feature the prospect of Foden on the left, Bukayo Saka on the right and Jude Bellingham behind Harry Kane. That is, after years of hype of quite-good and almost-there, really, really good tournament-level.
