Manchester United 0 - 3 Chelsea

	Mario Melchiot celebrates his goal (GaryMPrior/Allsport)

Chelsea had won in a contemptuous canter, and three goals had represented a miserly reward. It was the kind of victory which United used to assemble with thrilling regularity at Old Trafford, and it was the kind of defeat which calls into sternest question the spirit and character of Ferguson's team.

The stadium was two-thirds empty at the whistle, and Chelsea fans made the most of the moment. 'On strike, you should have gone on strike!' they sang to the vanishing red shirts. If Ferguson heard, he showed no sign. Deep down, he may even have agreed with the insult, such was his team's humiliation.

It might not have seemed quite so shattering had United recognised the depth of that humiliation. But the pace and urgency, the willingness to work and challenge, the defiant refusal to recognise a lost cause; all had evaporated in mass confusion and a communal shrugging of shoulders.

This was not the kind of team which Ferguson has spent the past 16 years assembling with sweat and tears and incomparable endeavour. Instead, it was a side all too ready to accept their fate.

They defended with sluggish bewilderment and they conceded midfield with embarrassing compliance. And when Ruud van Nistelrooy missed an early chance of rank simplicity, we guessed that the front players were not about to disguise the general deficiencies.

The idea that this side could retain their championship appeared farfetched. The notion that United might win the Champions League in the manager's final season seemed a cruel illusion.

Such concentration on United's inadequacies does scant credit to Chelsea's performance, which was impeccably organised and skilfully prosecuted. It was a game which reinforced young John Terry's blooming reputation and reminded us that Jimmy Floyd Hasselbaink remains as prickly and as potent as ever.

But while Chelsea are a good deal better than adequate, United really ought to be setting them problems which are beyond their wit or talent. Instead, they barely offered a challenge.

Roy Keane's presence in central defence demonstrated Ferguson's deep concern at the wholesale concession of goals. But the damaging flow continued as early as the sixth minute, when Hasselbaink's whipping corner saw Mario Melchiot pounding in to take the scoring header.

If there was a challenging defender in the vicinity, then he was heavily disguised.

Hasselbaink should have doubled the advantage on 15 minutes, when he turned Eidur Gudjohnsen's low cross over the top from six yards, while five minutes later Graeme Le Saux thundered a drive against United's crossbar.

Yet Chelsea never appeared concerned, never looked capable of squandering their profits.

For United were never a factor, with David Beckham untypically subdued before being substituted late in the game and Juan Veron a sadly vapid irrelevance.

As for the defenders, suffice it to say that Wes Brown looks a 10th of the player he was a year ago, while Laurent Blanc was every bit as wretched as his recent notices. Such indifference just cried out to be punished, but Chelsea waited until the 64th minute for further reward.

Once again, United's mistakes played into their hands, as Veron gave away the ball at halfway, and saw it intercepted by Hasselbaink, who exchanged passes with Gudjohnsen before striding through United's defensive ruins and driving the ball into the far corner.

Four minutes later, Paul Scholes collected a clearance and, from some 40 yards, lifted a lob at the Chelsea goal. In keeping with their defensive excellence, William Gallas chased back to head it off the line.

Suddenly, and for the first time in memory at Old Trafford, we heard the chant: 'Fergie Must Go!' Closer examination revealed that it came from the blue corner of the stadium.

In truth, precious little noise was coming from the red fans, especially the notorious 'prawn sandwich munchers', who traditionally require to be lifted by the deeds of their team. They were never likely to get their wish yesterday.

Instead, they suffered a third Chelsea goal, four minutes from time. As United attempted an inept offside trap, Gallas played in Gud-johnsen. The angle was poor, the shot was firm, the goal amply deserved.

The United fans departed in droves: 'Going off to catch the Taunton train,' snorted one cynic. Chelsea's supporters were living the dream, as they tunefully inquired: 'Can we play you every week.' And Sir Alex departed swiftly, his face set in a harsh stare.

For a few idle seconds, we wondered what he was thinking. But it was better not to know.