Manchester United bare their teeth.

It is a win that will live in the memories of the Manchester United fans. Beating Manchester City, the relentless machine, is not easy. It was an evening that started in nervous trepidation and ended up in intoxicated ecstasy.

A moment in the 90-minute encapsulated what this beaten-down unit did in the noisy cauldron they call home.

A loose ball bounced away from the United half past the Manchester City high line. Just one Red shirt was around. Around, not near. As the City defenders backpedalled, that red shirt Amad Diallo went for it.

The ninety minutes had taken their toll on him; his legs must have been weary, and his lungs just a sigh away from collapsing. But then it was one of those days that called for a fight, and if a sigh kills, so be it. Diallo huffed and puffed his way to the ball, reached it, and muscled past a few blue shirts before having a go at the City goal. The cruel post denied him, like it had denied Harry Maguire in the first half. The sheer effort in those dying minutes of the game is what this game was, and this sport is all about.

For a team that everyone had given up on, this was a statement win. One that would inspire the squad and restore hope.

United needed this

They were down in the dumps. Nothing had worked. The pattern since August had been familiar—listless displays, a back line that looked unsettled and a midfield that had very little control. The strikers Bruno Mbeumo and Matheus Cunha were sharp but received very little input from the midfield.

Just when the Manchester United fans were wondering where the next shock is coming from, their ever-obliging owners promptly obliged. Ruben Amorim, always a manager who seemed to be on the fringes, got the boot. For the United faithful, the season was over. The bottomless pit of misery was looking exactly that-bottomless.

No one gave the team a chance. Not even the die-hard fans at the Red End of the City.

But then, many times, the world works differently. It operates in mysterious ways, and Manchester City and Pep Guardiola found that out in a fashion that they never expected. The usually clinical City were toothless, and the typically brittle United were tough like nails.

The Score line is just numbers

Much can be written about the goals, the defensive spirit and the rudderless City team; however, today the details don’t matter. This is more human and philosophical than ever. An evening that defines professional sport. An evening that proved that tides do turn.

It is a spark, but one that might offer hope to a bunch of players everyone had given up on. Caught between the furious fans and a flapping management, they had to get something to hold on to, and they got it at home today. Or instead earned it.

One can never capture the essence of these events in statistics or tactics. It was more of a stirring tale than an expressionless score line. But for the unimaginative and for the sake of records, the scorers were Bryan Mbeumo and Patrick Dorgu, in the 65th and the 76th minutes respectively. The list should have been much longer , that is how dominant United were.

No one saw this coming. Even the neutrals are wondering how all this happened. Did Michael Carrick give them a magic potion? Was it prayers or planning? Was it a fighting United or a missing City?  Nothing can explain the evening. But then, who cares? Surely not a soul in Manchester Red.

Manchester City are wobbling, and Manchester United may have a chance to recover from their more-than-a-wobble season. It is that time of the year when some dream, and others have nightmares. Pep surely belongs to the latter category. Countless Manchester United fans, and a particular gentleman named Mikel Arteta, would be in the former.

Like the weather in the neighbourhood, things are getting crisp and frosty. Let the show go on.

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