Old Trafford- with fans still there
It’s always a messy affair when you poke your nose into other people’s relationships; usual responses are along the lines of:
“WTF has it got to do with you?”
“It’s complicated”
“You’ve got some nerve the amount of kids you’ve had behind your wives back”
And so on and so forth, it’s never the nose pokers business; their opinion is null and void. So how does that relate when judging fellow fans relationships with our club? To inevitably alienate myself from a large demographic of United fans I used to be against people not supporting your local club, regardless of how shit they were. My view was one of if they weren’t from Manchester then you have got no right supporting Manchester United; my views have somewhat changed having being all around Europe and met and drank and sang and drank with many Reds who were from all walks of life.
Their obvious love for the club warmed a cold heart to a few cockney reds here and there. My view nowadays is if you go to the games; dedicate the significant time, energy and money it takes to follow United then you’re as much of a United fan as me regardless that I was born in Longsight and you were born in Libya. Contributing love and support for the same cause is all that United fans should expect of each other but last Sunday was a fucking disgrace, and I’m not talking about the score line.
Not one for generally dabbling in the sadistic I nevertheless watched last Sundays game in its entirety again last night; I needed to try and get some clarity of how we went wrong, what tactics needed we to employ but it was in vein. Last weeks score line reflected exactly what went on, on the pitch; it was footballs Ron seal. What turned my stomach more than Noncini’s grimace was how empty the stands were with 25minutes still left on the clock; aren’t we the ones who sing “the council house is never full…” and “The city is yours? 20,000 empty seats are you fucking sure?”
There is a clip of a bloke with the October Sun bouncing of his bald bonce leaving the ground; his face, reflected the thoughts of millions of Reds around the world, his actions reflected a small minority. I haven’t met baldy nor a fan yet who walked out early but if/when I do I will be asking “What do you do when your wife’s ill, or your kids, or your dogs been run over and he’s just not going to make it?” Walking out like that last week, for me, was the equivalent of your old Nan being at death’s door in hospital and leaving early because she wasn’t going to make it, what’s the point in hanging around, I’ll get the Metro back to town and beat the rush.