On 13th December 1969, as an early Christmas present, this nine year old was ‘treated’ by his Liverpool-supporting uncle to a trip to Anfield to see Liverpool take on Manchester United.
I suspect the intention was to ensure my allegiance to Liverpool after watching an expected win over the rivals from Manchester.
By half-time, things were in the balance, thanks to a goal from Emlyn ‘crazy-horse’ Hughes and an own goal from Ron Yeats. However, in the second half things took a twist - goals from Ian Ure, Willie Morgan and a thunderbolt from Bobby Charlton gave United a very unexpected 4-1 away win. (search the highlights)
I couldn’t take my eyes off George Best. Number 8, gliding across pitch, thick black mop-top hair contrasting with United’s white away kit.
That day, over Fifty years ago, United claimed me from under the noses of the reds of Liverpool.
Fast-forward a few years and we were second-division. United fans had a bit of a reputation, but I persuaded my parents that I could behave myself and was allowed to attend United games without adult supervision. The Docherty years were fun. I vividly remember Stuart Pearson pre-1976 FA Cup final looking up at us massed behind the goal belting out his name. He looked like he was fighting back the tears. A couple of hours later, I failed miserably.
We made up for it a year later though!
The Sexton and the Atkinson years followed, promising much, but not really delivering.
Then came Fergie. Twenty-six years (well, maybe not the first 3) of going to work hung-over, hoarse from singing, screaming, celebrating, and arguing with scousers in the pub!
Moyes, van Gaal, Mourinho - OK, 3 cups, but few lasting memories.
Now, to the point. In over fifty years of supporting and watching United though the ups and downs, I honestly can’t remember a more soulless, inept, abject display than I had the misfortune to endure yesterday.
Well, I've got that off my chest :-)