El ennui is The Thing: welcome to the football of the death of late capitalism | first division

Well, something definitely happened there. But what exactly? There's an affectionate joke about good, hard-hitting Australian sports writing, which basically consists of saying Here's the thing, right?then explains exactly what The Thing is in 800 brutally frank words, beats The Thing into submission, shakes The Thing's hand, and then, ideally, goes for a quick drink with The Thing.

What happened here? Trapped energy. Drift. Tedium. Good goal by Moisés Caicedo. The football of the death of late capitalism. Casemiro lies down a lot, often to surprisingly good defensive effect.

Manchester United and Chelsea at least produced something recognizable over the course of this 1-1 tiespecifically a game of two halves, one of them confusing and almost surreally tedious; the other confused and blessed with a 10 minute spell where things really happened.

The first part in particular was an extraordinary spectacle simply for its laziness. It started off pretty well. Old Trafford always has that Christmas feeling at the start. Whatever the weather, there is always energy on the pitch for the team, and from the start there was a familiar sense of will from the stands. Here manchester united It's still a 10-story love song.

At that moment: nothing happened. It is difficult to remember a more meandering half of elite football, with the same feeling that time is meaninglessly lost. Football is a sport made up of boring and forgettable games. Boredom is a key part of sport and an element of its beauty. Even Jorge Valdano's description of English football as “shit on a stick” was something of a compliment. These people will cheer up anything as long as it has energy. For a long time English football berated itself for having energy without skill, too much drive, too much desire.

What was this in that context? Light and heat without content. Football as empty and frictionless, humans in colorful jerseys waiting for life to happen, JG Ballard-ball. At one point there were three minutes before a Bruno Fernandes free kick was cleared towards the nearest part of the wall and you were grateful for the howls and frustration, because, well, it's good to feel something.

Cole Palmer blinked at the edges. Caicedo and Roméo Lavia controlled the center of the field. Lavia is a very good midfielder, he takes the ball in any space, he always leans his body to go forward, without fear of his energy. In the end, though, the main function of Chelsea's competent center back was to demonstrate how evident it is that Casemiro really has no place at this level. It was like watching a middle-aged man trying to play tennis with someone 20 years younger. At one point, Casemiro won the ball with a dramatic full-length challenge, to huge applause, but even this was one of those abhorrent moments, like the aging bowler's doomed delivery mid-game, whose sole purpose It's not about having to turn and chase the ball to the limit.

United began to agitate in the second half. Wesley Fofana missed the first goal. Robert Sánchez hit Rasmus Højlund's boot with his hand as he passed. Fernandes buried the penalty. It was nice to see Ruud van Nistelrooy jumping and punching the air in his turtleneck and coat. Van Nistelrooy has no obvious role in United's future. The summer move, with the promise of extending his time at Ten Hag, has been a disaster for his own career. This was a good moment for him.

Caicedo equalized in the 74th minute, with a beautiful volley that only got better when he saw Enzo Maresca, still furious that his team was losing, strangely half celebrating on the touchline with a face that still suggested someone had just played a prank on him. your Skoda Superb on a mini roundabout.

And that was pretty much it, except for some static towards the end, dull sound and fury. The end result seemed appropriate. A point returns Chelsea to fourth place. On the other hand, they could also hope to beat the 13th best team in the country.

The keynote will remain the basic rarity of the occasion. Broadly speaking, this was a meeting of two forms of American property: successful vampirism versus an unsustainable overspending mania. Chelsea's 11 included nine players signed in the current era of wow-ball for a combined $500 million. United's was the usual collection of random footballers, half-baked ideas, substitutes, connections, Mr Wrongs.

What will happen now to these remnants, all those great contracted players who seem to have been at the club for decades, passed down from regime to regime like a broken china tea set? No wonder this team has no pattern. Here United had a player on the bench simply called “Amass”. Next week: an idea. A thought. A seat.

For now, the wheels keep turning, the content machine keeps turning. What exactly is sold here? A mediocre team with red shirts. Brand recognition, aura, floating energy. A point from a draw is at least a gift to the new manager as United wait on standby for the next leap forward; a club that has never been so obviously in need of A Thing.