Jesse Lingard: When true grit and heart pay dividends

When you've rattled the Hornets' nest, you don't rest on your laurels and lounge in the precincts. Who okayed that sort of behaviour? Recently, Manchester United scored 3 screamers at Vicarage Road and slipped into their ill-fitting robes of complacency, waiting to get stung.

It's a trend they seem to have bought into; firing away before lulling themselves into a false sense of security before the very turf shatters from right underneath their feet. First came Troy Deeney to deliver a right hook and then came Doucoure with a left.

The United faithful had no choice but to schlepp their fortunes into yet another final 10 minutes of angst and uncertainty. Just when it looked like the Hornets were ready to round it off with a calculated uppercut and take the piss, the narrative cut a one-eighty. And time made a hero out of the unlikely Jesse Lingard.

Now, Jesse Lingard is different from most United attackers these days. As has been extensively witnessed over the past year or so, he has a rather liberal take on the attacking realms and his greatest enablers are his legs and lungs.

In the 86th minute of the game, that annoying clown latched on to the ball and signalled to the lads in yellow, 'Now follow me.' Off he went, motoring past Cleverley and gaining a few yards, foraying into the centre of the pitch before turning on the afterburners and ghosting past Mariappa whose faint swipe barely tickled the air.

He then upended Kabasele at the edge of the area before sending one across Gomes who could do nothing more than hurl himself to the ground for duty's sakes. 3 points sealed. Peep, peeep, peeeeeep!

The crisis at Trafford

United let 3 easy points slip against Leicester and Burnley

It's hard to assign an identity to Manchester United. When they were putting a solid 4 past every opposition they were fed, 'Jose's playing the way United should, oh yeah' (?)

When they lost Paul Pogba to the infirmary, they were the team that shamelessly parked the bus against Liverpool. Come on Mourinho, the Scousers' defenders are waiting to get slaughtered. Much to the dismay of many, Mourinho appeared to celebrate the one point they 'gained' at Anfield.

There is one more version of the Old Trafford outfit which is an amalgamation of both and little of bit of well, Jesse Lingard.

The Emirates smash and grab

As Pogba made his return to the field, the occasion was at par to welcome back the big man. The Emirates was roaring and no one really could say which way this one was going to go.

Here was a Manchester United who had lost to Huddersfield, Chelsea, and Basel and got past Spurs by the skin of their teeth with no more than a 'Well, Paul was injured' to offer.

And up against them were the Gunners who had won their previous 12 games at home. Out and hungry for blood, they couldn't order silence in London and an off day for Arsenal Fan TV in a better fashion than by cutting the Red Devils down to size.

As Valencia send the ball whizzing through the legs of Monreal and Cech as early as the 4th minute, Arsenal were caught with their tails between their legs. Well, they had no reason to be just the same about 7 minutes later though. Jose Mourinho had packed the team with runners and the first goal was a testament to the Portuguese still being able to pinpoint the adversary's weakness and shove it right in their sorry faces.

Arsenal looked apprehensive in their defensive half and when Koscielny and Mustafi had to play the ball out from the back, they looked up to see Jesse Lingard and shuddered in collective confusion. What's he on about? This wasn't part of the plan!

Lingard was just being a prick and he was out to afford absolutely no comfort to the Gunners' backline. Koscielny nearly bottled it but he somehow passed the ball on as if it were a rigged set of dynamites to Shkrodan Mustafi. Ze German then made a muck of it and gave it off to Lukaku.

Martial and Lingard zig-zagged to further fog the Arsenal backline. Romelu Lukaku sprinted ahead and played a neat little ball for Martial to spring on to.

A brief exhibition of Martial arts followed as Lingard paid a visit to Cech's kingdom of disappointment and delivered one more blow. United then sat deep and signed De Gea up for an intensive workout program where we saw him break more sweat than any man has any right to, on a cold December night in London.

The breeze was flowing in Arsenal's direction and United looked all set to be swept aside. But in a swift-counter attack pioneered by Jesse Lingard, Paul Pogba sent Koscielny for a takeaway and squared one for the boy from Warrington to caress into the back of the net. The Gunners were blown right back into the boondocks they were so actively threatening to break out of.

Jesse Lingard took off to the corner flag and auditioned for Britain's Got Talent.

Not on my watch

The 2018 edition of the grandest prize in football is on the horizon.

Manchester United are sporadically lacking in inspiration but they have Lingard who looks like he wants to leave his mark on every game he plays.

After putting the game beyond doubt against the Baggies with a deflected strike in the last knockings of the game, Lingard set Mata up for one at the King Power to continue his good run of form.

But here's the kicker: with Lingard, there's always a doubt. A sort of mindblock that we have got accustomed to. Something that was, perhaps, ushered in by our own verdict of the meek-looking epitomic squad player in the United lineup. He is flattering to deceive, isn't he?

Except for he was not.

Well, Paul Pogba was back and he was pumping real heart and some really incisive balls into the final third for absolutely no one to show up and take responsibility. Burnley poked mullock at United's set-piece woes and beat De Gea. Twice. At Old Trafford.

A defeat at home against a Burnley side could irk Mourinho like immigrants do Trump.

And as the faces of Sean Dyche's men were all set to be printed on the dailies, Mourinho unleashed Lingard. And then there was chaos.

I, for one, was guilty of belting him and calling him a nutter for hitting the crossbar when all he had to do was just blow the ball into the open post from an Ashley Young cross. But he more than made up for it with a flick with his trailing back leg when a tougher chance came begging only a few minutes later.

Of all his attributes, the one that stands out with a cocky demeanour, hurling expletives by the roadside at 2 o clock in the afternoon, reeking of cheap pints... is his eye for goal.

Jesse Lingard is, after all, United's scorer of great goals now.

However, a repeat of what happened against Huddersfield looked to be on the cards though as United piled on the pressure to no effect till the 90th minute. Then they went on to win a freekick which Juan Mata floated into the box, wrapped in hope.

Some abrupt pinball activity later, the ball fell to Ashley Young who went for it with a shot that was worthy of being the poster child of desperate attempts. But fortunately for United, the ball fell for Lingard who leathered it into the net at a mile-a-minute. What the goal was quite pleasingly reminiscent of was Lingard's FA Cup winning strike against Alan Pardew's Crystal Palace from a year and a half ago.

The reaction time was absolutely bonkers. The ball had barely bounced off Ben Mee and the man from Warrington was already halfway through his swing.

Manchester United's insurance policy

Manchester United, who were waiting to breathe down City's necks were nonchalantly brushed aside by Chelsea who snatched their 2nd spot seat. Liverpool were lurking and all of a sudden, United were playing to ensure a top 4 berth.

A trip to Goodison Park had to have a happy ending for the cannons were waiting, fully loaded to eviscerate all of the Red Devils' good work which was already getting trifled by the utterly ridiculous superiority showcased by their city rivals.

Paul Pogba was giving it his best, hitting the high notes, but United just couldn't put some daylight between them and the Toffees after Martial's sweet strike from right outside the area had given them some breathing space.

Once again, in the dying embers of the game, Jesse Lingard cut in from the left flank and missile-d one into the right top corner from 25 odd yards out before wheeling away to the touchline. He celebrated with a finger on his lips which he wanted to make doubly sure wasn't missed by the cameras. So even while he was getting squished by his overjoyed teammates, Lingard kept poking his head out and shush, shush, shush.

It's a typical case of Who could've seen this coming?

A Manchester United attack that boasts of the over-awing trickery of Anthony Martial, the blistering pace of Rashford, the creativity of Mkhitaryan and Mata and the magic of Paul Pogba was relying on one or the other just to get by week in and week out.

Nobody except Alex Ferguson saw this coming.

His take on Lingard from 5 years ago was more fortune-telling when compared to the gradual unfurling of a flag of tricks we have borne witness to over the past couple of years.

Even when he was scoring those worldies on the off-day, his overall game was nothing spectacular. In fact, seeing Lingard's name on the teamsheet was sort-of a bummer. It was an indicator of a brewing problem-- probably an injury or someone getting outcasted.

Slowly though, the one-offs are becoming a weekly thing.

The exception is slowly, but surely, becoming the rule.

The flashes of brilliance were often looked at as a mere validation of his presence in the Manchester United team. But now that the streak has carried on for more time than anyone would've expected him to, the flash in the pan arguments are buying balcony tickets to watch Jesse and his gig.

The Rainmaker

It was starting to look like one of those nights for good ol' Manchester United. Derby were making sure they gave it their best at keeping the Devils at bay. But United, easily the better team, had the framework of the goal shuddering more than all of winter break had forced it to and disappointment was starting to seep in.

Scott Carson was at his absolute best, flying around like Jonty Rhodes on PEDs and keeping the score at 0-0. Rowett's defenders were resolute at the back and the full-backs were willing to hustle like they were on daily wage.

Derby County had come to Jose Mourinho's fortress and were threatening to blow the gate away. But towards the business end of the game, they committed a vital error. They finally, and inevitably, may I add, afforded Jesse Lingard an inch of space right outside the area.

If you think Jesse Lingard needs an invitation to go for goal, I suggest you watch replays of his inspired solo goal against Leicester in the FA Community Shield in Jose's first official game in charge. Or that FA Cup final goal against Crystal Palace right before that.

Or the one against Watford, or the second one against Burnley. Or perhaps you could treat yourself to that sumptuous curler he produced against Everton hardly a week back.

If it's there near his legs, if it's there to be hit, backlifts and follow-throughs can take a day off, because Jesse Lingard doesn't care.

The technique is bewilderingly beautiful and a Scott Carson who was as acquainted with the paint around the 6-yard box as he is with the farthest reaches of the crossbar could only stand flat footed and look on as the Stretford End exploded in joy.

The outburst is visceral. Tony Martial turned around and made the best burn face since Soulja boy ripped Supa Hot Fire a new one back in '14.

For all the cynics that say Mourinho's lost his golden touch should just look at the numbers at play involving the attacking quartet of Pogba, Martial, Lingard and Rashford. Martial and Lingard have been involved in 31 goals for Manchester United this season in a combined 31 starts between them.

Mourinho had this to say about the new star of the team in the post-match presser.

“Lingard is in a clear evolution. I think he’s comfortable in the positions he plays. He’s mature, he understands the game better, so clearly he’s becoming a real player.”

Make no mistake, the baby-faced goof dresses to deceive and dances to conceal the constitution of a cast-iron skillet that hides beneath that redshirt.

It's poetic how one of United's own has come to the fore and settled the nerves that were starting to show midway through the season. It's reassuring to see someone break out of the assigned image of yet another that England player.

At the drawing board though, every opposition has a new problem to solve. After all, how do you deal with ghosts?

Call it wishful thinking but one day, you might just see Jose Mourinho take a sip out of his wine, reminiscing on the good ol' days and iterate like Viggo Tarasov does to his son Iosef in John Wick...

The goals he buried that winter laid the foundation of what we are now.

Amidst the towering 6 foot something bullies of Jose's army, a diminutive, clean-shaven jock has emerged as the alpha. And he is nothing like a John Wick or a Leon. There is no apathy. Just the pure joy of running with the ball.

Like the King once said,

The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.

As it stands, Jose Mourinho's new henchman is a relentless ghost and nothing excites him more than a field of fire.

And he is one for the high tides. The big games, the tall prize.

Bit-part? Pfft. Big heart.