Dimitar Berbatov is one of my favorite players to watch. He finds time when there is no time, space where there is no space. When the ball is at his feet, the rules that govern the universe seemingly cease to exist.
Writing about today's match, the Telegraph captured
some of his spirit.
There is barely sufficient space to list all the ridiculous things Berbatov did. His goals were simply window-dressing to a sublime individual display. His touch was exquisite, his vision unparalleled, his audacity breathtaking.
At times, it was if he was playing a different, simpler game. Then, as his team-mates floundered and flagged in the second half, Berbatov prowled impatiently in search of the ball, the conductor waiting for someone to hand him a baton.
The Bulgarian has been in fine form for some games now, but this was where he truly cast off his earthly cares and drifted away...
While Berbatov floated around the pitch in an untroubled, Zen-like state of calm, Samba played like a man who was suddenly beginning to question everything.