Goodbye To The Little Master

Andrés Iniesta was nowhere to be seen as Barcelona’s celebrations began at Wembley on Saturday evening. United had spent much of the previous 90 minutes looking for the little Spaniard, and now even his team-mates were unable to locate him.

But as the new European champions were embracing and cavorting, their unassuming little midfielder was once again deep in United territory, this time locked in conversation with Paul Scholes. The 27-year-old had two priorities before Saturday’s game: win the match; then get Scholes’ shirt.

Iniesta, perhaps the leading exponent of modern midfield artistry, got his wish before trotting off to rejoin his colleagues, white shirt draped carefully around his neck. Even in the final game of his epic career, Paul Scholes attracted the admiration of his most distinguished peers.

It should be no surprise, of course. The last 15 years have been soundtracked by cooing from modern greats. Zidane, Davids, Vieira, Henry and countless more have labelled Scholes as their most gifted opponent. Even last week Pep Guardiola – himself a pre-eminent midfielder before he started out in the trophy monopolising business – paid tribute to the 36-year-old, labelling him: “the best midfielder of his generation.”

Being the gruff, bashful soul that he is, Scholes would wince with every proclamation of his brilliance. So we shouldn’t be surprised that his retirement, when it came, was so low key. Typically, for a player who made a living from going unnoticed, he has ghosted onto the sidelines. No teary speeches, no fanfare.

Allow me to set the ball rolling. He did, of course, do his level best to shun all attempts to elevate him. “I’m alright, I suppose,” was a stock response whenever fronted with his excellence in interviews. That’s when you could pin him down for more than five minutes. A particular trick of Scholesy’s was to arrange interviews for before training. He would then arrive 10 minutes before the session began, giving him the perfect excuse to cut the chat short. One minute he was there, the next he’d vanished. I suppose it was a flavour of being a Premier League defender over the last decade and a half.

Though no bosom buddy of the media, the man dubbed ‘Sat Nav’ by his colleagues was the definitive players’ player. His very mention usually provokes a shake of the head and artistic articulation of his brilliance. In years of asking different players who stands out in training, nobody has ever failed to name Scholes first. And coaches loved him. “Playing with Paul Scholes is like playing with the light on,” Carlos Queiroz once said. “Scholesy could play five-a-side blindfolded,” added former chief scout Mick Brown. “Everything he does is absolutely functional,” opined Rene Meulensteen.

That last one sums up the value of Scholes: a priceless lucidity which allowed him to read and dictate games. As every good snooker player thinks three shots ahead, United’s number 18 had already passed and moved before hehad even received the ball. From the little asthmatic ginger kid who would bang in goals for fun at Littleton Road and The Cliff, to the radar-slipping phantom who brought the guile to United’s midfield for a decade and a half, Scholes has always been ahead of the game. 

The media will heave with tributes and video montages over the coming days. You’ll relive the thumping long-rangers, the boundless passing and the sporadically feral challenges. If you didn’t already, you’ll appreciate what we will come to miss. There will also be plentiful players tipped to fill the great man’s boots, but they can’t. Just as the hunt for the new Roy Keane was called off, the search for the new Paul Scholes is doomed to failure. United must evolve, rather than attempt to replace the irreplaceable.

It is a masterstroke of Sir Alex Ferguson to retain Scholes’ experience in a coaching capacity. Unwittingly, he’s been educating his fellow pros for years, and if he can work directly with United’s FA Youth Cup winners – particularly midfielders Pogba, Morrison and Tunnicliffe – then his brilliance will live on at first team level.

Barcelona’s players certainly recognised his worth on Saturday. Stood, clad in Iniesta’s sweat-drenched shirt, Scholes had to disappoint Messi, Xavi, Busquets and Pedro by informing each that he had already surrendered his jersey. For all their modern mastery of the football, Barcelona’s pass-poppers recognised that they were in the presence of the greatest little maestro of his generation.