Last season everyone complained about Giggs performances so this
season its Scholes's turn to tio hoot ar. 
Giggs was condemened left right centre for being played only to
break Sir Bobby Charlton's appearance record...then once he scored
the goal against Wigan in our last match, everyone forgot liao.
Instead everyone praise him for winning his 10th title.
Have you forgotten about Scholes's performance against Fulham
that happened only last month liao?
“His passes stretched forever.”
To cite any other player being more dominant and expressive in a
match this season than Paul Scholes was against Fulham is nigh
impossible.
The ginger prince shies from cameras and adulation, but on the
field he feels, more profoundly than any fortunate observer, the
artistry and sheer magnificence he manifested Tuesday like no
other; and he knows it gutturally.
But he won’t talk about it. Scholes was one of the first players
to leave the field after his side clinically dismantled Fulham 3-0,
shifting quickly off his stage as teammates and opponents alike
hustled to shake his hand and look into his eyes for any sign of
higher being.
This left a slightly more willing, though equally uncomfortable
Wayne Rooney to attend to interviewing
obligations with BBC.
Rooney stammered, bumbled, and twitched, as well as employing
many other impression management mannerisms, to generally evade his
way through the queries with perfunctory, scattered answers. But,
as the topic turned to Scholes, his eyes squinted in awe and
understanding:
“Some of his football tonight, I don’t think there’s any other
player in the world who could produce that,” Rooney said, taken
aback. “In my eyes…,” he continued, shaking his head, “He’s one of
the best ever,” now looking quite certain.
Other players and legends (and writers) have been similarly
lovestruck by the intelligent, modest, gentlemanly style Scholesy
boy alone exudes.
Edgar Davids: “I’m not the best, Paul Scholes is.”
Thierry Henry: “He has indestructible mental strength and he is
a genuine competitor.”
Zinedine Zidane: “Scholes is undoubtedly the best midfielder of
his generation.”
Bobby Charlton: “I have no hesitation in putting a name to the
embodiment of all that I think is best about football. It’s Paul
Scholes.”
And, in recent weeks, when asked what the most amazing thing
he’s seen in practice was, manager Sir Alex Ferguson revealed
Scholes is quite cheeky too.
“The most amazing thing is Paul Scholes, in the morning, when a
player goes to have a pee at the side of the training pitch and he
fires balls from 40 yards right on top of their head!”
“He got Gary Neville right in the head and Neville chased him
across the pitch!”
Scholesy might have had even more fun Tuesday at the Theatre of
Dreams.
His passes stretched forever, close and far, far away with
unerring accuracy—usually bulls-eying the preferred foot of the
recipient, to be fair.
Scholes was the conduit; he was the courier. He signed, sealed,
and delivered five or six balls, pin to point, from the center of
the pitch far out onto the wing in the first ten minutes, as
throughout, just stretching his legs; warming up.
Ten days rested, he then flipped, dinked, tapped, and sprayed,
weaving intricacies around enamored yet sad Fulham players of which
they never contemplated and would never comprehend. He was
entranced on the field like a crocodile giving birth along the Nile
swamps.
Scholes even had some of the best tackles of the match, getting
right up into the Fulham midfield and simply robbing his ball from
enfeebled bystanders on occasions.
To be fair, against a beaten and downtrodden team from London,
most United players were in control, with Ronaldo being a
conspicuous exception. He could do no more than whine and misfire
while Carrick and Tevez were also limited.
No one could, or would, compare that night with the inimitable
Scholes though.
His lashing goal was a vintage strike on the volley direct from
a corner, a routine often attempted over the years of his career
with now at least two permanent connections and tallies etched in
history. It squeaked under goalkeeper Schwarzer, and Paul Scholes’
grin was ear-to-ear, arms raised in glee.
United went away 3-0 to the good with a classy Berbatov and
poaching Rooney also making the score-sheet and match reports.
However, this one is mostly about Paul Scholes. The romantic
display by the diminutive Salford man, as he twinkles into memory
during the last of his career, might just be the best 90 minutes of
it.
And for any fan claiming to appreciate football beyond the goals
and awards; who doesn’t look at, but into, the minutia of play,
must take the time to download, or otherwise manufacture, a replay
of this match, if not for their own personal growth!
For today, the aging paragon modestly exhibited natural football
in a simple state, without frills or pretext, as ever, just
precision and execution resultant from hours, days, and years of
honest application.
And that is the beauty of Scholes.