Five Things We Learned from This Weekend's Football

Louis van Gaal Doesn't Know What He's Doing
It's hard to really see who this "3-1-4-2 until they're losing and then it's 4-4-2 again" system is supposed to be getting the best out of, since almost nobody is playing in their preferred position. It's certainly not any of the strikers. Nor is it Juan Mata, as his shanked sitters yesterday proved. It sure as hell isn't the defenders, such as they are, and it's not Michael fucking Carrick either. So who is it?

Well, haters, you just haven't seen Louis' philosophy. Manchester United are getting brilliant performances out of their best and probably only world-class player every week – David de Gea. The system fits him like a glove, supplying him with plenty of shots and crosses to deal with every game. It's genius.

Things have gotten so weird at Old Trafford that we're in a position where United missed Ashley Young, who would've played at left back, and nobody bats an eyelid. Ashley Young. What the fuck is going on here, exactly? After the weird winning streak – where United seemed to play worse in every game – came to an end, the very real possibility of missing out on fourth has again surfaced, along with everybody noticing that United have the exact same number of points (37) now as they did under Moyes at this stage last season. Yet not even he managed to have a home game without a single shot on target.

Alexis Sanchez Could Be the Best Player in the League
The "What is the worst possible big-money signing Arsenal could make?" tombola struck a brilliant choice this winter, as it appeared Barcelona's fleet-footed faller-overer Pedro had emerged as a target for Wenger. As with Ferguson and his bizarre career twilight fear of central midfielders, it's long past the point where the refusal to address areas of dire concern (defensive cover, a hard midfielder) are in some way admirable – it's tiresome, and Wenger isn't a good enough manager to play with a handicap. They need bastards, and they need them now.

In the summer, Sanchez seemed like a similar sort of deal – Wenger being distracted by the pretty dribbling and golden abs of Chile's finest without realising that even Arsenal fans no longer thought Koscielny and Mertesacker were the world's best centre-back partnership. And even when Sanchez got off to a strong start, he didn't seem to improve them much, with the same old flaws still evident. But now, he's looking like he could well carry them to fourth; like he could be the league's new Gareth Bale. Inexplicably, Arsenal seem to have gotten worse with the addition of Alexis Sanchez.

Compared to, say, Juan Mata and Cesc Fabregas, Sanchez is a welcome antidote to the flat-track bullies that Arsenal's entire team essentially consists of, and he looks like he could be at the Bale/Ronaldo level that can carry an otherwise poor team ahead of their rivals. They still need arseholes if they want to win anything, but if Wenger wants to avoid what seemed an inevitable image – a Clough-esque farewell, looking on misty-eyed in agonising powerlessness, but with relegation replaced by missing out on fourth – then Sanchez is probably the guy to turn it around.

A Shite League Is a Fun League
I've spoken regularly about how Scottish football is an antidote to everything that's wrong with the Premier League, but Paris Saint-Germain's eye-catching 4-2 collapse in Corsica this weekend offers us the chance to examine another rare source of entertainment: Ligue 1.

Much like Scotland, there should only be one show in town, yet all of the biggest clubs in the country are duking it out for the title – first place is anyone's from Marseille, Lyon, Saint-Etienne and PSG. And, equally similarly, it's largely because the team that ought to be running away with it just aren't very good, offering a glimpse of glory to a Marcelo Bielsa vehicle, a skint fallen giant helplessly reliant on a youngster and a team that sold all their best players in order to compete.

The conclusion to be made here is that the big leagues have simply become too good – we've seen that as the Championship has produced far better finales than watching Fergie, Mourinho or City's billions coast comfortably ahead of the pack – but if we're holding out more hope for Aberdeen and Saint-Etienne than Arsenal or Manchester United come January, something is very wrong. Was it all worth it? In a word: no. Burn the TV money and bring back Jody Morris.

Pardew Still Has It
While trying to make sense of Spurs' win over Chelsea, we probably should have realised what was going to happen – they would do a Spurs. It seems obvious in hindsight, but the only way that result makes any sense is if they instantly go on one of the worst runs of form of all time, so check out those SportBIBLE "SHOCKING! Spurs results since they beat Chelsea!" tweets in a few weeks' time when they succumb to a limp QPR defeat in the 96th minute (Charlie Austin penalty, Chiriches handball; calling it now).

As always, the man to profit from their misery was Alan Pardew, who claimed his first scalp as Palace manager, continuing his legend as ever. He's quite clearly a terrible manager, and yet he's going to keep them up comfortably, probably even outdoing Tony Pulis in the process.

What will be really interesting is to see who Pardew tries to sign. With Newcastle, he worked with a director of football who brought in some sincerely decent Moneyball-esque French signings who Pards promptly played alongside Sammy Ameobi. Now, we have a terrifying prospect that he'll get to mould a team in his own image. A team of Pardews. What a prospect.

We Need New Villains
With Luis Suarez off, Vincent Tan and Alan Pardew turning face, Neil Warnock being a miserable failure and the days of Ferg's Evil Empire looking as gone as the Mongols, the Premier League is in desperate need of new villains. It's been the one thing that has been a constant throughout the ages, and now we are sincerely lacking in arseholes.

Currently, being a Premier League arsehole looks like one of those 70s "You'll always have a job in the mines!" adverts – in another era, Lee Cattermole would lift the FA Cup as Chelsea captain. But despite the title race taking place between a team backed by Abu Dhabi money and one by a Russian oligarch, their poster boys are sleek, modern, easy-to-export types with sophisticated haircuts: your Cesc Fabregases, your Sergio Agueros, a Vincent Kompany. Even Diego Costa failed to live up to his billing in this regard, and while we still have John Terry, he's surely on the way out now. The top end of the table is sadly bereft of dickheads.

We've all heard about the banality of evil, and it never looks truer than the current Premier League. Evil could be other things, too – it could be stylish, sexy, dangerous and fun. It could be Adolf Eichmann and Rob Lee, yes, but it could also be Michael Corleone and Cristiano Ronaldo. At the moment, we have the worst of both worlds, all of the banality and none of the allure. Until that changes, we can never consider this a golden age. Again: bring back Jody Morris.

@Callum_TH