by Michael Baggaley

THERE’S a moment in the Michael Caine/Stanley Baker classic Zulu when the South Wales Borderers realise they are surrounded and helpless against the thousands of fearsome natives who are preparing for the kill.

A young private turns to his Colour Sergeant and asks ‘why us?’

The older man puffs out his chest, thrusts out his jaw, and replies ‘Because we’re ’ere lad, nobody else’.

Close your eyes and imagine young Ryan Shawcross having the same conversation with sergeant Abdoulaye Faye after Ronaldo belted home a third-minute free-kick and 11 European Champions, plus 70,000 of their supporters, sensed a rout.

All right, so the United hordes were wielding cameras (and tourist guides too, if the Stoke fans’ taunts are to be believed), rather than spears, but you get the picture.

Suddenly, a Championship fixture away at Doncaster or Blackpool didn’t seem so bad as Stoke tried too late to man the barricades for a long afternoon.

Shawcross, Faye and their colleagues never had much of a chance of getting a result at Old Trafford, but once they conceded so early, the afternoon became an exercise in damage limitation.

Not a particularly successful exercise, it has to be said. Yes, Stoke were up against some of the best in the world, but Tony Pulis’s side were still bitterly disappointed not to have given a better account of themselves.

They looked as though they might just make a game of it when, like a five-year old learning to ride a bike, they gingerly regained their balance and pedalled with growing confidence towards half-time.

But Michael Carrick’s strike in first-half injury-time, and Dimitar Berbatov’s goal four minutes after the break, had Stoke flying over the handlebars and still sitting in the gutter feeling for bumps by the time Peter Walton’s full-time whistle brought a merciful end to proceedings.

Despite the 5-0 defeat, Stoke still finished to a standing ovation from their 3,000 travelling supporters – a reaction which will mean more to the players than the appreciation after their four wins at the Britannia.

The travelling supporters had been in fine voice well before kick-off. Having mustered three Delilahs before 3pm, they clearly weren’t concerned about the possibility of being all Delilah’d out by the time Stoke’s goals started flying in.

There was also plenty of baiting of the home supporters, all of which was initially met with supreme indifference from the United fans who relaxed in the belief Stoke supporters would surely give it a rest once Ronaldo, Berbatov, Tevez and co got stuck into their team.

However, the travelling supporters actually got louder as the game went on, no doubt sensing their side needed all the support they could get as they faced their Rorke’s Drift on the pitch.

They didn’t start belting out Men of Harlech, but that was one of the few numbers not used in a repertoire which ranged from the classic ‘We’ll Be With You’ to ‘You’ve got your Chelsea shirts on order’ to the United fans.

The home fans didn’t really get going until their third goal, and only then because the away supporters were giving Ronaldo a barrage of abuse every time he so much as looked at the ball.

It’s best not to repeat the colourful language directed at the clearly peeved Ronaldo. Let’s just say he won’t be accepting any invitation to switch on the Hanley lights next Christmas, or even to open the Beer Festival at the Kings Hall.

The rattled winger waved ironically in the Stoke fans’ direction, but otherwise pretty much let his football do the talking.

Stoke were too overrun to offer anything as an attacking force, but it would be harsh to criticise individual players for failing to prevent the onslaught.

To the naked eye, it appeared Thomas Sorensen should have done better for Ronaldo’s first goal, but a replay showed the ball had swung as late and viciously as Wasim Akram’s deliveries used to do at the other Old Trafford.

Stoke’s rearguard – that was everyone except overworked lone striker Ricardo Fuller – also did their best. But there was only so much they could do against an irresistible Red tide.

United weren’t at their very best. Even so, some of their passing and movement on the edge of the area was as fast, precise and intense as a fight scene in a Kung Fu movie.

Midway through the first half, Aboulaye Faye resorted to sitting on the ball to stop one flick on getting through.

Had he stayed there, and defied any United player to come near him, maybe City would have escaped with a 1-0 defeat.