In the cauldron of Old Trafford, where Manchester United’s ghosts still prowl the touchlines and every misplaced pass feels like treason, Everton midfielder Idrissa Gueye just scripted the most surreal chapter in Premier League history. Thirteen minutes into a must-win Merseyside derby – wait, no, scratch that: a desperate survival scrap against United on November 25, 2025 – Gueye turned on his own man, Michael Keane, with a slap so sharp it echoed louder than the Stretford End’s boos. Red card. Straight to the bin. The first player in 17 years to be ejected for scrapping with a teammate. And yet, against all odds, the Toffees didn’t crumble. They conquered. 1-0. Kienan Dewsbury-Hall’s thunderbolt on the half-hour mark sealed a victory that feels like divine intervention in David Moyes’ increasingly beleaguered second stint.

Picture the scene: It’s the 13th minute, United pressing like men possessed, Bruno Fernandes lurking like a vulture. Gueye, the Senegalese engine room terrier who’s been Everton’s heartbeat since his 2022 return, lofts a lazy pass straight to Fernandes’ feet. The United skipper – architect of so many Everton nightmares – blasts wide, but the damage is done. Keane, the towering center-back who’s weathered more Goodison gales than most, wheels on Gueye in a flash of blue-on-blue fury. Words fly. Fists? Not quite. But Gueye’s right hand connects with Keane’s cheek in a slap that could curdle milk. The stadium freezes. Referee David Coote’s whistle pierces the air like a guillotine. VAR beeps in from Stockley Park: “Clear strike to the face.” Red card upheld. Gueye trudges off, head bowed, leaving ten-man Everton to face the Red Devils’ wrath.

This wasn’t some heated tunnel bust-up or post-whistle melee. This was live, in the white-hot glare of 74,000 eyes, broadcast to a nation still nursing hangovers from Thanksgiving turkey. The last time a Premier League player saw red for teammate violence? December 2008, when Ben Thatcher headbutted teammate Danny Cullip at Barnsley. Ancient history. Gueye, 35 and in his 150th outing for the Blues, just etched his name into the annals of absurdity. Pundits erupted on Sky Sports. Gary Neville, United’s red-faced oracle, leaned into the mic with that trademark squint: “They were not fighting, it wasn’t a scrap. It could have been dealt with by a yellow. I don’t think it needed to be a red.” Neville knows a thing or two about on-pitch dust-ups – remember his elbow on Arsenal’s Patrick Vieira? – but even he called this overkill.

Coote, the man in the middle with a whistle that’s seen more controversy than a tabloid front page, didn’t hesitate. Post-match, the Premier League rubber-stamped it: “The referee’s call of red card to Gueye for violent conduct was checked and confirmed by VAR – with the action deemed to be a clear strike to the face of Keane.” No appeals. No wiggle room. Gueye faces a three-match ban, minimum, plunging Everton deeper into the relegation mire they’re already wallowing in. The Toffes sit 17th, four points from safety, with a festive fixture pile-up that includes Liverpool, Arsenal, and City. Moyes, the grizzled Scot who’s somehow coaxed 12 points from 13 games this term, must now plot without his midfield anchor. “I’ve been told that if you slap your own player or if you leave an arm in then you could be in some form of trouble,” Moyes mused post-match, his face a roadmap of creases. “But there is another side to it. I quite like my players fighting each other and getting annoyed with each other. If you want a winning team, with the resilience and toughness that got us the result, then I think you’ve got to have players that are going to react in that way.”

Moyes’ magnanimous spin masked the madness. Everton, down to ten before the first corner, absorbed United’s early storm like a sponge. Fernandes rattled the bar. Rashford fizzed a shot inches wide. Hojlund, the Danish destroyer, bullied Jarrad Branthwaite into submission. But the Blues held. Then, poetry: Dewsbury-Hall, the £20m summer snag from Leicester, ghosts into the box off a Dwight McNeil corner, meets it with a volley that buries itself in Andre Onana’s top corner. 1-0. United, for all their £400m war chest, huffed and puffed but couldn’t blow the door down. Andre Gomes mopped up in midfield. Jordan Pickford, the penalty-saving king, clawed away a Garnacho curler. At the whistle, Goodison’s traveling faithful – all 3,000 scarves-in-the-air diehards – serenaded Moyes like he’d just lifted the league. “We don’t see it very often,” Moyes grinned, deflecting from the dressing-room drama. “If nothing had happened afterwards, I don’t think anybody in the stadium would’ve been surprised.”

Behind the scenes, the slap heard ’round the Premier League festered. Gueye, the devout Muslim who’s fasted through Ramadan while tackling for his life, didn’t hide. Hours after the final whistle, his Instagram lit up with contrition: “I want to apologise first to my teammate Michael Keane. I take full responsibility for my reaction. I also apologise to my teammates, the staff, the fans and the club. What happened does not reflect who I am or the values I stand for. Emotions can run high, but nothing justifies such behaviour. I’ll make sure it never happens again. UTT.” (Up The Toffees, for the uninitiated.) Keane, ever the good soldier, waved it off in the tunnel: “Heat of the moment, innit? We’ve moved on.” But whispers from the away end paint a rawer picture – shouts of “Sort your house out!” raining down as Gueye trudged past. Everton’s squad, a powder keg of loanees and lifers, has simmered all season: McNeil’s howlers, Calvert-Lewin’s drought, Branthwaite’s raw edges. Gueye’s lapse? The spark that could’ve torched it all.

Yet here’s the rub: that red didn’t break Everton. It forged them. Ten men for 77 minutes against a United side gunning for the top four? That’s not luck; that’s steel. Moyes, back at the helm since his ill-fated West Ham exit, has instilled a siege mentality that’s kept the wolves at bay. Twelve points from 13 – better than Sean Dyche’s dour draw-fests last term – but survival’s no sure thing. Liverpool loom on December 7, a derby where Goodison’s fury could either heal wounds or rip them wide open. Gueye’s ban means Ashley Young’s creaky legs in midfield, or perhaps a loan kid thrust into the fire. United, meanwhile, stew in their own pot: Erik ten Hag’s men slip to 6th, Fernandes’ missed sitter a microcosm of their profligacy.

Punditry’s postmortem? A feast. Neville’s yellow-card plea sparked Twitter wars – #JusticeForGueye trending with 150k posts by dawn. Alan Shearer, on Match of the Day, called it “a wake-up call for passion’s limits.” Jamie Carragher, Liverpool’s red mouthpiece, chuckled: “If that was against us, I’d want the ref’s eyes tested. But credit to Everton – they showed bottle.” The FA’s watching too; expect a fine, maybe sensitivity training. For Gueye, it’s introspection: the man who’s captained Senegal to AFCON glory now captains Everton’s error-prone engine. One slap doesn’t define him, but in a season of scraps, it sure as hell echoes.

As the Mersey mists roll in, Everton fans cling to this Old Trafford heist like a talisman. Moyes’ “fighting spirit” quip? Half-joke, half-truth. The Toffees aren’t just surviving; they’re snarling. Gueye’s back in three weeks – wiser, hopefully. Until then, Goodison grinds on, a blue beacon in the relegation gloom. Slap or no slap, this win wasn’t handed. It was wrestled from the jaws of defeat. And in the brutal ballet of the Premier League, that’s the only language that matters.