The dominant image of this 0-0 draw arrived with six minutes still to go. In the centre circle, with the ball vaguely in attendance, Marouane Fellaini and Fernando performed a kind of lurching two-man judo hold, limbs entwined, scrabbling sideways like a red and blue crab for what felt like at least 10 seconds – or maybe longer, half an hour perhaps – before Mark Clattenburg finally blew his whistle, not so much to signal a foul as to stop whatever was happening from happening any longer.

Either side of which, in a match that saw Manchester United’s best player, Anthony Martial, lassoed to the left wing, and City’s most creative central presence, Kevin De Bruyne, also shunted wide, this was 90 minutes of almost-football, of football-related product. There was plenty of noise around Old Trafford and a sense of rousing ceremony about the whole occasion. But at the middle, like a vegetarian roast dinner, there was still a distinct sense of absence between the trimmings, a football-shaped hole at the centre of it all.

There were four or five moments where the game did open up, most notably right at the death when Martial played in Jesse Lingard only for his neat flick to hit the bar. Otherwise the temptation was simply to wonder about talent hidden away in both teams. On the Spanish TV feed of this game the commentators could be heard declaring that it would take “a miracle” for either to win the Champions League. Miracle seems a little strong. There was great individual talent out there. It’s just that most of it was operating in the dark.

Manchester City back on top after goalless draw at Manchester United Read more

Juan Mata, a wonderful player, left the field with 23 minutes to go having barely engaged with his team-mates all afternoon. Martial and Kevin De Bruyne were basically thrown away, £100m of attacking joy hidden in supporting roles. It is hard to explain why this might be beyond the urge, above all, not to lose this match combined with the enduring oddity of the cosmopolitan Premier League’s inherited obsession with strength and aggression above craft and guile.

Perhaps this might explain why Wayne Rooney spent the whole 93 minutes playing at centre-forward while Martial stayed diligently out wide. Before kick-off the Manchester police could be seen enforcing a strict “no persistent standing” rule inside the stadium. For the more disaffected among United’s support there may have been a temptation to wonder about the effects this restriction might have on Rooney’s afternoon.

In the event he was at least a vigorous presence, albeit a blunt one in a first half that quickly settled into a suffocating press of well-stocked midfields. Rooney started brightly enough, turning away from Yaya Touré neatly, but playing often at what looked like an eerie half-speed.

At one stage Rooney and Vincent Kompany charged back towards City’s goal in pursuit of Marcos Rojo’s long pass like two men wobbling along trying to lose a slow bicycle race.

Manchester United v Manchester City: Premier League – as it happened Read more

Meanwhile De Bruyne and Martial set about tangling away on the flank, the definition of talent cancelling itself out. One lovely switch of feet by Martial bought a booking for Fernandinho. Moments later he controlled a ball with a perfect Velcro touch while on the ground having fallen over. In the same move Rooney stretched to take a simple lofted pass, the ball bouncing off a shin and back into City hands. Even in his best days Rooney’s touch was often a little hard, the ball controlled on the move as much by will and vim and hopeful energy.

Still Martial looked United’s best player, in one move skating away from Nicolás Otamendi and Kompany, and five minutes into the second half producing another moment of fine-point brilliance by the touchline, switching feet and flicking inside to Mata. The pattern was fairly clear. When Martial had the ball, United looked purposeful.

When Rooney had it they hummed and hawed and sucked the air out of the game. As Rooney checked inside and meandered away from goal, perhaps it was a little show of homesickness towards that No10 position where his best days have often come.

Manchester United and City both too defensive to spark excitement | Michael Cox Read more

“I am sick of talking about Rooney,” Van Gaal said afterwards. He has a point. But then Van Gaal’s great skill has often been the primacy of the team, the only outsize ego tolerated his own. And yet at a club that has often trusted its bold attacking talents Rooney will be an issue for as long as he continues to play like this as United’s senior central striker. Much has been made of his loss of snap and spring. If he moves, at times, like one of the oldest 30-year-old all-star athletes you’re likely to come across, then this is perhaps because he is.

In effect he arrived as a ready-made 16-year-old, fully mature with a long junior career behind him, the moving parts in that stocky frame already well-seasoned by competitive football. Rooney may have hit a milestone birthday this weekend but his key component parts – the legs, ankles, hamstrings, muscle fibres – were those of a 30-something footballer some time ago.

This may turn out to be a useful point gained for United. Perhaps with time Martial will be allowed to migrate to the centre, Rooney rested or moved deeper. For now in a game stocked with talent but strangled by muscular caution it was tempting simply to wonder what might have been.