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Man Utd 3 Everton 3: Calvert-Lewin scores last-gasp equaliser to dent Devils' title run

DOMINIC CALVERT-LEWIN turned a night of tributes into one of tears as Everton snatched the most dramatic of draws.

Calvert-Lewin jabbed a last-second leveller four minutes into stoppage time, to wreck United’s hopes of making the 63rd Munich memorial into a matchwinning one.


The Toffees striker prodded past David De Gea just as Scott McTominay seemed sure to give Ole Gunnar Solskjaer victory on his 100th game as a Premier League manager.

And how fitting that would have been for a home-grown hero to come up trumps on the evening they remembered Sir Matt Busby’s local stars so tragically lost this night in 1958.

McTominay’s moment came 20 minutes from the end of a game that United tossed away right at the end.

He rose among an Everton triumvirate of Mason Holgate, Calvert-Lewin and Ben Godfrey and back-headed Luke Shaw’s free-kick into the far corner.

Cue roars of relief on the United bench, roars of frustration on the other one . . . and raw emotion from a goalscorer who has become a bedrock of the big games for Ole.

And, of course, the oh-so-apt fact it was from the bonce of yet another boy who cut his teeth the youth ranks here.

Mind you, McTominay was far from the only local product to shine last night.

And the most memorable moment once again came from the right boot of Bruno Fernandes, whose thunderbolt for the 45th-minute second goal was a genuine jaw-dropper.

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Home-grown Mason Greenwood put on a lively display that gave Lucas Digne dizzy spells.

One early darting and dancing run ended with a cross which was just too high for Edinson Cavani. An ominous warning of what lay ahead for Everton — and one they didn’t heed.

Twice this season Cavani had stuck one past them, so no great surprise, then, when he completed his long-range hat-trick last night with United’s first after 24 minutes.

Marcus Rashford had all the space he wanted to take a look  and take aim, before picking out Cavani.

The Uruguayan stepped beyond Michael Keane at the far post, and from six yards, keeper Robin Olsen did  not have a prayer.

Suddenly Everton were a different team. And not in a positive way either.

From standing toe to toe, they were second best just about everywhere. Clearances came straight back, while second balls fell to men in red.


So, too, did the second goal on the stroke of half-time and what an absolute stunner it was, too.

In all truth Fernandes was having one of his quieter performances to that point and most of United’s more creative moments had gone on around him.

He hardly sprang into life the second Aaron Wan-Bissaka rolled a short ball to him a yard outside the box, either.

Fernandes had a glance, and took on the shot almost after deciding there was no other more obvious option. He unleashed a blockbuster that flew past a stunned Olsen and into the top corner.

Even the goalscorer looked amazed, given the way he stood rooted in celebration . . . or maybe that was his 2021 version of the famous Eric Cantona pose.


When that one flew in, it looked game over. OK not in anything like the same manner as Wednesday’s 9-0 mauling of Southampton.

But surely then it was only going to be how many, not who wins. Football, bloody hell, eh, as a certain footballing knight watching from the directors box may have thought.

Actually Sir Alex Ferguson, like every other United fan, was probably cursing a heck of a lot more than that after three crazy second-half minutes which turned this game on its head.

First De Gea flapped at Calvert-Lewin’s cross after the Toffees centre forward had shown up Harry Maguire for pace, or lack of it, and Abdoulaye Doucoure tapped in on 49 minutes.

Then, three minutes later James Rodriguez pulled down Doucoure’s nod back and drilled home.

No one was stopping McTominay from getting his head to Shaw’s delivery to put United back in front.

Surely this time it was enough. Surely this time they could mark the night in the manner they so desperately wanted. Calvert-Lewin clearly didn’t read the script.

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