Vintage Vieira the victor in collision of the immovable forces

In London, it had been the people versus Blair; in Manchester, it would be Keane against the world. Or you know it would have been a season or two ago, football's rotter of all rottweilers, snapping and snarling at opponents, pausing only to castigate his own team-mates if they dared shirk a challenge. And sure enough, before the bell rang on a contest which Arsenal won by two goals but heavily on points, the Manchester United captain still talked the talk of Keano the cavalier: "Top players seem to enjoy pressure. They like it on the edge. Maybe we're better when we're walking that tightrope."

Here, yesterday, in the big top he wasn't so much on a wire. More frequently, he was in the safety net, rarely presenting the remotest threat to Arsenal's ambitions. The central spaces of a beautifully manicured surface was, from the opening minutes, the domain of the elegant Patrick Vieira and diligent partner Edu as the former Republic of Ireland footballer Roy Keane was restricted to patrolling the periphery.

As for those lung-searing, blind-side runs in support of his forwards, they appear to have been lost somewhere out in the Far East. And where was he when actual or perceived scores began to be settled in the opening minutes, when some of his team-mates – Ruud van Nistelrooy, in particular, who had taken a blow in the face by Martin Keown in the league match here in December – were dishing it out like avenging, but rather clumsy, assassins? If Keane was anywhere, it was in the unlikely peacemaker role.

Whether it be that Keane is still easing his way back after a long hiatus caused by a hip operation or has counselled himself to take a more placatory attitude to those who confront him (although by all accounts of regular United-watchers he was seen at his familiar belligerent excess at Birmingham recently, enthusiastically cajoling Van Nistelrooy) here he was a subdued spirit. So many of United's finest hours have been the product of his endeavours but Keane can be an impotent force, indeed, if his every sinew, his every muscle is not committed to the cause.

In this latest collision between the two colossi of the English game the Irishman merely reflected the general malaise amongst his team-mates. After a bloody beginning, in which van Nistelrooy might have been dismissed for a couple of Ruud challenges, only one of which was apparently observed by referee Jeff Winter, United's FA Cup aspirations were gently put to sleep. Long before the end, you felt a doctor not averse to euthanasia should have been on hand. It would have been a kindness to put them out of their misery. When could we last say that about Sir Alex Ferguson's team here? Vieira succinct view later was simple enough; that "we won the battle in midfield". Yet, the question he might have been asked is: where precisely was the enemy?

With Keane's most memorable contributions a caution for a cynical challenge on Robert Pires and one incisive thrust which led to Paul Scholes heading into the side-netting, the Frenchman must have been bewildered at the time and space he was afforded. Though it may be heretical to remind Keane's disciples, when United defeated Arsenal in the Premiership in December, the Irishman was missing and the much-maligned Phil Neville largely negated Vieira's presence.

On this occasion, relishing his liberation, Vieira glided over the pitch, those muscular limbs cantering the turf like a Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe victor. The instigator of all Arsenal's most inventive work, he was a towering presence, both physically and metaphorically, supported adeptly by his subordinate Edu. Like Keane he also appears to have lost his confrontational manner with officials. That can only be to his team's advantage.

Some might contend that, despite Ferguson's pre-match protestations regarding the importance of the FA Cup, he was simply being disingenuous when the principal focus of him and his men was actually Wednesday night's Champions' League conflict with Juventus. A plausible enough theory if United hadn't began as though the visitors' presence on the field was a gross affront to them and if Ferguson hadn't responded afterwards with more than a touch of pique.

In fairness, this fixture here tends to produce such reactions from the vanquished manager. Arsène Wenger was at it last time with some bizarre reflections on his team's defeat. Certainly, Arsenal do occasionally have a propensity for the theatrical and are far too fond of protest to officials when challenged unfairly, but for Ferguson to suggest that his own players "wouldn't do that. They'd concentrate on playing" is, frankly, absurd. His words would, no doubt, be treated with some amusement by referee Andy d'Urso, who was the recipient of a robust verbal assault by United players when they played Middlesbrough here a couple of seasons ago.Gary Neville and David Beckham might yesterday have been better employed than engaging in verbal sparring with Mr Winter.

Fortunately, after brandishing yellow cards like a daffodil seller early on, the aforesaid official will have been relieved that the participants then declared an uneasy truce. Ryan Giggs, the shirt-swinging, hairy-chested man of the 1999 semi-final, turned from hero to zero with his extraordinary first-half miss, the antithesis of his mesmerising goal on that occasion three years ago. Once Sylvain Wiltord had added to Edu's grotesquely-deflected opening goal just after the interval, the players, and spectators, fell into an almost trance-like state as Arsenal passed with economy and maintained possession.

On occasions when United did threaten, Keown was a mighty obstacle. He blocked and ran and was an example to all around him. On a day when there were young central defenders aplenty for the consideration of England coach Sven Goran Eriksson, the gnarled veteran showed that there is life in the old dog yet. Come Wednesday, Ferguson, who, at the final whistle, at least had the good grace to offer a double pat on the back for his counterpart, will expect nothing less from his own bloodhound, Keane.