May 15, 2018 at 11:33 am #1636769
Twenty seven years ago today, probably the greatest night of my United supporting life. Manchester United 2 FC Barcelona and that cunt Koeman 1 to win the Cup Winners Cup. It eclipses everything that’s been since for me, even the treble. What a trip that was and what a night. They were the halcyon days for me.
Three nights in Amsterdam, the trains up to Rotterdam on the morning of the game…packed with thousands of reds in Madchester mode all off our tits, the pouring rain, the stadium with no roof, Oh Sit Down, that beautiful white kit, Bruce’s header, how the fuck did Hughes score from there, the Barca come back, Les Sealey, Clayton Blackmore off the line, the final whistle, Fergie dancing delirious and for the first time thinking “he’ll do.” Always Look on the Bright Side of Life, European Champions of sorts…and after sacking off work for the summer, leaving Rotterdam the next morning to jib the trains round Europe for three months. Christ, twenty seven years ago, barely a care in the world and anything felt possible. This beautiful fucking football club of ours eh, bloody hell.
What’s the favourite night (or afternoon) of your United supporting life, Reds?May 15, 2018 at 12:25 pm #1636817
I was also in Rotterdam having just returned from 7 years in Oz. What a return but have to say Barcelona eclipsed it for drama. I was just about to walk to the nearest Tapas bar when we equalised as couldn’t stomach the thought of those krauts lifting the cup. We were outplayed for most of the game but who cares after that finish. There were fans hanging from lamposts with a cerveza in the other hand by the time we got back into the ramblas and bodies strewn everywhere the next morning as we left. Those were (indeed) the days my friend.May 15, 2018 at 12:50 pm #1636841
I haven’t been to as many games as I would have liked due to me spending my entire working life abroad. The standout match for me was my first at OT, a good game, a good result, a good atmosphere. It was the atmosphere that was the killer. Like a drug, it hooked me.
And it must be said, many fond memories are not of matches but the journeys. The sing songs on the coaches and trains with the lads. I recall setting off with a mate to hitchhike to Turin. No tickets and not much money. Never got there but had a great time making the attempt.
The summer games are fun. Back in the 70s I took a German exchange student to Highbury. He was the nerdy type. Lovely day, match soon to start, then the fighting broke out. Those were the days. Hahaha.
PS – Talking of the coach trips reminds me of that old song “Didn’t we have a lovely time the day we went to Bangor. A beautiful day, we had lunch on the way and all for under a pound you know. But on the way back I cuddled with Jack and we opened a bottle of cider. Singing a few of our favourite songs as the wheels went around.” – But no bloody cuddling … well not until the way back after a good win that is 🙂May 15, 2018 at 1:34 pm #1636868
sooooooooo you took a young german nerdy type up the arsenal? thats soooooooooooo you Mr Mac 😉May 15, 2018 at 1:49 pm #1636879
He wanted to learn English language and culture. Now he can sing “Yaw gonna get ya fakkin ‘eads kicked in” and knows never to sit down on the ground whilst on the terraces at away games.May 15, 2018 at 1:53 pm #1636883
valuable life lessons for us all i feelMay 15, 2018 at 1:57 pm #1636888
How close to Turin did you get? Brilliant.
I could tell tales of adventure and derring-do getting to games going back thirty five years…but very little about the matches themselves.
You’re probably right about 99 Yorkshireman200…we flew Marseille the morning after the FA Cup Final then on to Montpellier the next night, then Perpignan the Tuesday before a train to Barcelona Wednesday morning…about half United, a quarter Munich and the rest bemused commuters. Looked for all the world like it would go off as there were handy lads on both sides but it ended up being a right laugh. Maybe not for the commuters mind.May 15, 2018 at 2:17 pm #1636897
@Wonderfuel – Wiesbaden
We underestimated on the booze money required. I had a brother in Wiesbaden so knocked him up at 3am to kip on the couch and tap him for a few quid. He obliged but the next day after spending a few hours in the bierkeller making plans for rest of trip and looking at the clock, we decided to abort mission and have a few more jars instead.
On the ferry over we got chatting to a couple of cockney’s who got us pissed and even dropped us 20 quid to help us on the way. On the way back a couple of yanks gave us a lift to Amsterdam dropping us off in the red light district. Not the wisest of moves.
Then we arrived at the ferry port skint. My mate worked at the Sheerness end of the ferry and assured us he’d arrange for free passage back. The ferry knew nothing about it. BUT they didn’t like the idea of leaving 2 penniless United fans on the loose in their country so agreed to ferry us back and let our mate pay on arrival. Needless to say, once the ferry docked we scarpered.
United lost and it was a boring match apparently so I guess we didn’t miss much.May 15, 2018 at 3:08 pm #1636924
Mac-Was there rough bummings involved with that young student?May 16, 2018 at 9:00 am #1637168
Gotta be my first trip to Old Trafford for me. (Although Brighton away a couple of weeks back was a good laugh!) My 2 cousins got the bus over, they were travelling most of the night, i got the train up from “daarn saaarf”! Wearing a replica United shirt i’d picked up at the night bizarre in Bangkok, with my Ireland scarf draped over my shoulders – i sat on the train most of the day drinking beers and meeting fellow United fans.
Met the boys in the pub (The Trafford) i had the pints in for them when they arrived. What an atmosphere in there, they were absolutely made up. All the pictures around the walls, loads of great reds singing the City song. The Ireland scarf got a lot of attention, loads of people coming over to us and talking about their connections back home.
The atmosphere was amazing in the stadium too and at one point we had a corner, right in front of me, where Rooney, Ronaldo, Berbatov and Tevez were all talking about the routine. They were about 10 feet away from me, amazing. Think we played Bolton and won 1-0 due to Ronaldo conning the ref with a dive in the area. It was never a pen (That’s funny, i thought we used to beat teams like Bolton 5-0 when Fergie was in charge?!)
The funny part of the day was that we had to walk back to the City centre where we were staying that night, the whole place was grid locked so couldn’t get a cab, probably a 2 hour walk as we were well pissed by then. Get back to the room and the two Cork lads pull out their shirts and black shoes – ready for a big night on the town. “Fuck” i said, as i look down to my white trainers. I didn’t bring any going out shit. I’d been on a bender the night before and barely made the train up with a pretty weak overnight bag. “You’ll never get in anywhere with white trainers on”. Ah i’m sure there’s a shop around here where i can get shoes and a shirt, so we made a plan to get a cab to a clothes shop. Must have been 9 o clock after a few more beers in the hotel bar. We jumped in a cab and he took us to a parade of shops, all closed by then. So the taxi driver said don’t worry, Asda do clothes i’ll take you over there. Get round to Asda, closed. Fuck!
It’s about 10pm now and things were looking desperate as i said to the huge, Asian taxi driver. “Do you have a spare pair of shoes and an old shirt i can buy from you”?
He’s thinking about it. I tell him i’ll give him an extra £30 on top of the taxi fare.
So, amazingly, he drives us back to his house (some shit hole somewhere), gets out of his cab and goes running in. About 5 minutes later he comes out with stuff thrown over his arm. Probably a 15 year old pair of black shoes with the bottoms absolutely fucked and a MASSIVE shirt, like a XXXL. He drives us to The Northern Quarter and i get out, pay him £60 or whatever and start getting changed in the street. The 2 boys are cracking up when i start doing the buttons up on this horrendous shirt, the bottom button is almost down to my knees! I tuck it in, stick on the shoes and hide my trainers around the corner.
We get in!
Literally in there 5 minutes and this group of twats start on my cousin, i pull him out of a crowd of about 5 lads and then they turn on me. Luckily one of them hears the Irish accent and that changes everything. Friends after that.
Although the cousins still joke that when they turned round and saw the fuckin shirt i was wearing they shat themselves!!
It’s a night that’s gone down in history with the family back home. Every auntie, uncle and cousin knows the story! I still get the odd message saying “Do you still have the shirt”…?! Fuckers!
Long story, hope it made sense.May 16, 2018 at 11:08 am #1637253
Surprised you couldn’t scrounge a pair of wellington boots and a donkey jacket from one of your countrymen.
PS – Christ knows why clubs have these daft dress codes.
PS2 – How many shots at goal were there in Fergie’s day? As I recall the opposition parked the bus and it was United trying to find a way through a packed defense.May 16, 2018 at 12:11 pm #1637297
Belting story and I admire your spirit of derring-do but I hate to tell you….I can’t remember a single night out I’ve had in Manchester where I haven’t been in trainers. Bar the odd do where I’ve been squeezed in a suit.
We’re the trainer capital of Europe although I reckon the scousers might debate that.May 16, 2018 at 12:36 pm #1637313
@happyhurling. That is quite some story indeed – littered with all the good things Irish: beer, a scuffle, and of course – white trainers. I can picture happy right now, berating all the fans within earshot for not singing loud enough and everyone taking him seriously until they spot his slightly soiled reebok trainers. Hahahahaha!
@macguffin. Clubs need these rules mate, otherwise they would be filled with the happyhurlings of this world – arriving without any birds, wearing trainers and guzzling bevlars all night. Hehehehehe.May 16, 2018 at 1:41 pm #1637341
hatters – Yep but it seems the rules don’t keep out riffraff like Wonderfuel. Mind you, he probably wears a shell suit and tells them he’s a fitness trainer at Carrington.
In the days I went to nightclubs for crumpet I’d avoid problems by trying to slip in the back door 🙂May 16, 2018 at 3:08 pm #1637388
My old stomping grounds Mac they wanted to keep the riff raff in not out.May 16, 2018 at 5:42 pm #1637448
Raw, organic, natural, indecent, anal arse pounding bummings.May 17, 2018 at 8:06 am #1637647
Tommy – Really? That’s mad, where we were there was bouncers everywhere desperate to point to your feet and mumble “no trainers”! Is it “The Works” or something? Where you go into almost like a little fenced off village with loads of bars and clubs?
It’s such a funny thing how all the aggressive wankers so easily get into the clubs just by wearing the appropriate shirt and shoes to bypass the security!! Oh right so you’re letting those scum bags in, who will definitely be starting trouble in about an hour, but i’ve got trainers on so i can’t get in? Makes sense!
Mac – Yeah teams did park the bus against us in Fergie’s day. What do you think teams are doing against Jose, repeated waves of attack after attack?!
Hatters – Come on mate, we know you love a good sausage fest! Wouldn’t bring my “bird” to a club in Manchester anyway!! 😉May 17, 2018 at 8:18 am #1637653
Mac, trying to slip in the back door? why doesnt that surprise me, hope its not that German fella you took up the Arsenal!May 17, 2018 at 9:01 am #1637665
Ah yes…The Printworks, you’d be needing your fighting shoes and a fighting shirt in there for sure. Never been in thankfully, the sort of place that makes me shidder. Manchester probably didn’t show its best side to you then!May 17, 2018 at 11:22 am #1637752
Ha ha, we had a laugh anyway – actually my cousins were right at home!! 😉
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