The Pride, The Prejudice, and the Time of My Life!

[tomclare]

The Pride, the Prejudice, and the Time of My Life!

Houston, Texas. 4:37 p.m. in the afternoon on Wednesday, May 21st, 2008. The scene; inside The Richmond Arms pub which is situated on the corner of Richmond and Fountain View on the west side of this sprawling metropolis. The pub is a large single storied, mainly wooden structure with a large main lounge and two smaller ones leading off it. A large bar is the main feature within the lounge and from there you can purchase any of the 20 plus different type of beers that they serve. Outside, the temperature was showing 93 degrees, but inside it felt more like 120 degrees. Inside, the three lounges were packed with people and it was impossible to allow any more people to enter the building. At 4:37 p.m. the place erupted into a cacophony of noise and jubilation for 70% of those present. Beer, champagne, shirts, caps, scarves, flew through the air, showering over everybody. Strangers hugged and kissed, shook hands, and even cried but the tears were tears of unrestrained happiness. For the remaining 30% who were present however, it was a feeling of utter dejection, torment, and despair.

The pub had opened at 11a.m that morning and as the owners had opened the doors they were met with a line of people, most of whom were wearing the red replica shirts of Manchester United Football Club, all eager to claim a seat and table with a good vantage point for viewing the big television screens which adjoined the walls in the lounges. As the minutes ticked away, the pub began to fill with people. The waitresses produced body swerves around people that Cristanio Ronaldo would have been proud of as they carried drinks and meals to customers who wanted to get the little matter of lunch out of the way before 1:45 p.m. There was a buzz in the air, an expectation, and an atmosphere began to build. People entered wearing the blue replica shirts of Chelsea Football Club and they were met with banter from the Manchester United fans. It was good natured and there was give and take on both sides of the divide.

At 1:45p.m the place was rocking as the United fans bellowed out their chants and songs and for the next two and a half hours, they never ceased. People went through so many emotions during that time and it was interesting to see how different people reacted to the different situations that were being played out on the television screens before them. For me, sat there with my friends Jack and Clare Rose, there was a feeling of quiet contentment. I thought of the many good friends who were actually present within the Luzhinski Stadium in Moscow that evening; Tony Smith, David Field, Liam Bradford, Barney Chilton, Kevin Gallagher, Clair Middleton, Louise Galvin, and even dear old Tufty ! What emotions must they have been going through? Oh! How I would have liked to have been there alongside them. Sadly, this time, fate had decreed that I would never be able to travel to Russia.

The journey to the Richmond Arms had begun just over 3 weeks before and involved me crossing the Atlantic and returning again. On April 25th, together with my wife Cheryl, we had traveled from our home here in Houston over to my home town Manchester. It was a trip that both of us had looked forward to enormously. On arrival in Manchester we hit a snag. I reported to the Budget Rental Car office outside Manchester Airport’s Terminal 2 and duly handed over my Driving Licence in order that I could pick up a vehicle. We were due to drive up to Edinburgh the following day and it was a nasty shock when the Rental Car clerk informed me that in just two days time my licence was due to expire! Panic! My wife was unable to drive so this could scupper well laid plans. After a long overnight flight via Paris, this was something that we could have done without. However, we did work out that if we took a 2 day rental it would get us up to Edinburgh, and we could return to Manchester by either train or bus. We collected the car, drove to what used to be the Post House Hotel in Northenden but is now the Britannia, and got our heads down.

We slept until 8:30p.m. and after waking and showering, we called some friends of ours who lived close by and agreed to go around and visit them. Once there, we told them of our predicament, and they allowed Cheryl to get online on their computer. Fortunately, she was able to log on to the Texas Department of Transport, fill in a simple renewal form, pay the $12 renewal fee and get a confirmatory e-mail back to say that my licence had been extended to 2014. Sighs of relief. The following morning we went back to the airport and the rental firm and renewed the rental and left much happier.

On the way up to Edinburgh, we called briefly into Blackpool to see my sister and her husband for a few hours. On leaving Blackpool the heavens opened and the weather was bad all the way up into Scotland. Edinburgh is a lovely city and as we approached and then drove through it to our accommodation in Leith, Cheryl was captured by it. We found our accommodation and it was a surprise when entering that we had a spacious two bedroom apartment with two bathrooms and great views looking out over the Firth of Forth. All that for 47 quid a night – what a deal!

That evening we met up with a dear old friend of mine and his wife whom I hadn’t seen for 36 years – Charlie and Olivia Kennedy. We met them in a lovely restaurant on the Dock Road in Leith and consumed a sumptuous meal as we chewed the cud about old and new times. It really was a pleasure to see them both. By the time that we returned to the apartment, all the traveling of the previous two days finally caught up with us both and we slept so well.

The next three days were taken up with coach tours and they were really enjoyable – especially the one that took us up through the Highlands which we did on my 63rd birthday, April 28th. However on the Tuesday, April 29th I was restless as we toured Loch Lomond and finished off at Stirling Castle – and yes, William Wallace’s statue does bear a striking resemblance to Mel Gibson! I just wanted to make sure that we would be back in Edinburgh by 5p.m. so that we could grab a quick dinner, and then get back to the apartment before 7:45p.m. This we achieved and I sat with my nerves on edge as United battled it out with the Spanish giants of Barcelona for a place in the Champion’s League Final. Little Paul Scholes scored that superlative goal with a strike that would have given credit to any of United’s past masters in shooting ability. I roared out when the ball hit the back of net, so much so that I frightened the life out of Cheryl who was in another room and thought that I might be having a heart attack!

The game ebbed and flowed and my stomach churned. Half time was negotiated without any change to the score. I made coffee, contemplated my navel, and scratched my scrotum as my nerves were on edge. The second half began, and again, it ebbed and flowed. As we entered the last twenty minutes of the match, Barcelona started to press even more and only needed to draw level to go through. Into the last ten minutes and my stomach tightened even further and then into the last 5 minutes it heightened again and you couldn’t get a bus ticket between the cheeks of my arse! The final whistle blew, and I jumped for joy and wept like a child at the same time. I am emotional at the best of times, but the sheer elation of seeing my team through to another European Cup Final, utterly consumed me. So many thoughts and memories passed through my head, especially as this year celebrated the 50th Anniversary of the Munich Disaster. From that moment on, I had no fear that United’s name was on that trophy.

On Thursday May 1st, we were back in the Manchester area. The following day was to be the annual end of season dinner at The Acton Court Hotel in Stockport, an event that for me, and I suspect many others, has become the focal social event on their calendar. We checked into the hotel in early afternoon and it was so good to meet up with old friends again. It may only be once a year but the friendship that the dinner has prevailed upon people is one of the main reasons why it has developed into the success that it is. We spent the afternoon and evening in the company of Charlie Haydar and Graham “Repoman” Wilde, who had both flown in from Canada. The impish Cathy Farrell from Northampton was there, as was the genial Graham Tully from Southampton, and the lovely Kerry Simpson from Hull. It’s always good to be amongst friends who we don’t see often enough.

Friday May 2nd was a busy day for me as I had to make sure that the hotel staff had everything in order for the evening’s event. Our guest that evening was ex United legend Paddy Crerand plus we had two very special guests in Paul Satinoff, and his son Steve, who are son and Grandson of the late Willie Satinoff who perished in the disaster at Munich. We had 109 people sitting down for dinner and it was so good to see so many friends supporting the dinner. It never ceases to amaze me the distances that people travel to be there – this year we had people from USA, Canada, New Zealand, Denmark, and from all points throughout England. It was a wonderful evening and Paddy was in great form regaling us with tales of his illustrious past playing career. Nobody went away without good memories of the evening and early morning!

The following day, Saturday, May 3rd, was match day – United versus West Ham. Unfortunately it was an early kick off time at 12:45 p.m. and for those of us who had stayed up until late into the morning hours, there had been little time for sleep. Aidan Sterling had done a tremendous job making sure people had tickets for the match and I witnessed the trouble he goes to in making sure that ordinary Reds get accommodated. We can’t speak too highly of Aidan and there are many of us who owe him so much. One couple who had travelled over from Cape Breton in Nova Scotia was Moe and Betty Ashton. Moe who is in his 70’s now, had emigrated to Canada when he was just 18 years old. He hadn’t been back to Manchester, or inside Old Trafford for almost 30 years. His face was such a picture when we told him that we had match tickets for him and there was more than a hint of tear in his eye!

Off we went Old Trafford and it was a glorious day. Seeing so many friends again and to cap it all a tremendous winning performance by United, marred only by Nani’s sending off. Even today, I still get the same old feeling walking down what is today Sir Matt Busby Way, but to me will always be the Warwick Road. It never fails to excite me. Seeing the magnificent stadium that Old Trafford is today always takes me back to memories of how it used to be when I first attended reserve team matches there in the early 1950’s. After the game we said our goodbyes to friends and drove back to the hotel. To be honest, we were all knackered! That evening, a number of us met for dinner in a lovely Italian restaurant close by the hotel. Great food, great conversation, and most of all, great company – it was a fitting end to the day!

We slept well that evening and Sunday was spent visiting with my sister, and then going to see a few friends to say our goodbyes. The day before I leave to return to Houston is always tinged with a little sadness for me as I know that it will be months before I see my friends again. The following day Monday, we were up early at 5:30a.m. We had no choice really as the Hotel was holding a car boot sale on their car park that morning and people started to arrive before 5a.m. to get the best pitches from which to sell their wares. As we were in a room at the front of the hotel, the noise outside woke us and that was that – no rest for the wicked! We duly packed our remaining bags and at 7a.m. had breakfast with Moe and Betty and Charlie Haydar. Some half an hour later, Cheryl, Charlie, and I, left for the airport. Charlie was flying down to London to catch a connection to Ottawa from Heathrow; we were on the Continental flight to Newark in New Jersey.

Check in was negotiated and Cheryl and I went to one of the cafeteria bars in the Departure Lounge and sat with a coffee. Airports are what I call interesting places to “people watch”, and sure enough, you could have written reams about some of the characters that were strutting about that morning. I was sat there observing people, and then I saw him, meandering towards us, completely in a fog, looking as though he hadn’t a clue as to where he was going, nor where he had come from – J.D. Deitch! The fact of the matter was that he was in a fog! Apparently he had been up most of the night with TwatEngine in a night club and now looked considerably the worse for wear! He was also heading in the wrong direction for his gate! We exchanged hugs and pleasantries – J.D. is a dear friend and it is always so good to see him.

We left Manchester and the flight over to Newark was comfortable and uneventful taking just short of 7 hours. It gave me time to reflect on the wonderful 10 days that we had just spent in the U.K. I consider myself so lucky to have so many wonderful friends who always make my visits so memorable. Without doubt I have so many people to thank for this particularly Aidan, Barney, Tony, Paul, JD, Duncan, Sean, Margaret, Char, Boylie Charlie, Cathy and others far too numerous to mention. We were a little delayed on our flight from Newark down to Houston which takes around four hours. It’s no surprise therefore that both of us slept for long periods of the flight. It was just around 9p.m. when we touched down at Bush InterContinental which fortunately for us is just 5 miles from where we live. There was a delay retrieving our baggage and then we had to wait for the bus which would take us to the compound where our car had been parked for the duration of our visit in England. By the time that we had collected the car, driven home and arrived indoors, it was almost 10:45p.m – 4:45a.m. in U.K. so we had been on the go for almost 24 hours.

I had some appointments with doctors to negotiate on the Wednesday and Thursday of that week and this kept my mind occupied. Fortunately for me, the end result was that after a course of treatment all will be well and that came as a huge relief. Now I could turn my concentration to events that would be happening on Sunday May 11th – United playing away to Wigan, and Chelsea at home to Bolton. These games would decide who would end up as Premiership Champions for season 2007/2008. On the Friday, I took part in a radio programme for Red Devil radio which comes out of Los Angeles, and it was a surprise that they linked me in with Paddy Crerand for a live chat. We talked about how he had enjoyed the Dinner, Eamon Dunphy, the coming weekend’s games, and reminisced about some of the old games that he played in. We had some laughs, and Paddy is so good in helping out Philip and Michael who run the programme. It is an outlet that has been badly needed here in the States and will continue to grow and I hope prosper. For those interested, here is the link to it: http://www.reddevil radio.com

Just after I had spoken to Paddy I had to leave and collect Cheryl from her place of work as we were driving over to Youngsville which is just south of Lafayette in Louisiana, to stay with her daughter and family for the weekend. The middle daughter was making her first Communion on the Sunday so it was an event that could not be turned down. Unfortunately for me, Jeff and Jenny did not subscribe to the television pay per view sports channels so I wouldn’t be able to watch the game against Wigan on their huge flat screen t.v. Instead I would have to watch the game via Sopcast on my computer.

I was a little on edge come the Sunday morning and I had this dreadful fear that something silly was going to happen, and that just as had happened in 1968, United may throw away another League title. I tuned in early on my computer and got a great picture. The game started and the grandchildren saw a huge change come over me! I was up and down more times than a bride’s nightie as I ranted and raved as the game progressed. United got a penalty, and sure enough, Ronaldo tucked it away to give United the lead that they wanted. Wigan had fought hard and were causing United problems especially Heskey and Bent. However, getting into the lead would certainly dampen Chelsea’s ardour as they struggled against Bolton. Half-time arrived with United leading in their game, and Chelsea only drawing in theirs. I felt a little easier and enjoyed a half time cup of coffee as the family looked on in amusement.

The second half began and I settled down to watch. The game progressed and I felt quite happy until Heskey missed a glorious chance to put Wigan level but put his header over the bar. Just minutes later the news came through that Chelsea had taken the lead down at Stamford Bridge. My heart sank. Wigan was certainly not allowing United to have their own way and my nerves were on edge. All of a sudden my bottle went – I had this strange feeling that Wigan would equalize, Chelsea would win, and that United would lose the title. I couldn’t watch and went out for a walk.

I strolled up and down the road trying to kill time and willing the game to end. After what seemed an eternity, Cheryl appeared out of the house shouting to me that Giggs had scored a second goal for United – I jumped in the air – the title had been retained and stayed at Old Trafford. I went back into the house, watched the replays of Giggs’ goal and the last ten minutes were watched without fear. I sat and sang and when the final whistle went and news came through from Stamford Bridge that Chelsea had drawn, I leapt up and punched the air! I sang, I danced, and everybody thought that I had gone demented – especially the grandchildren! I was just so ecstatic. The League is always the main trophy that I like to see us win and as this was our 17th, just one behind Liverpool now, it was a wonderful feeling.

Going to watch Grand daughter Kelly make her first communion was an uplifting experience. As she walked down the aisle of the church all dressed in a white dress, it took me back to the day in 1952 when I had made my own first Communion and the problems that I had caused for my Mother! She had gone to great lengths to make sure that I was dressed correctly for the occasion – white silk shirt, white silk shorts and white socks. She had gotten me ready and whilst she was attending to her own ablutions, I slipped out of the house. The street was cobblestoned and in between each cobble was a layer of pitch which held them all together. This I started to pick out and by the time she came out and saw me – well – I had it all over me! She wasn’t a happy lady taking me to church that morning.

The drive back to Houston from Louisiana was pleasant, and once again, I sang United songs on the way back. I was just so elated – Champions again and a European Cup Final to look forward to in just over a week’s time. I was just so sure that the European Cup would come home again and I never had any doubts at all that it would. The next week flew by. I had my treatments, went to work, and just looked forward to the afternoon of May 21st.

On Wednesday morning I went to the hospital for treatment, and that completed, made the journey over the other side of the city to meet with Jack and Clare. Initially I was going to watch the game at home, but to be honest, I just wanted to be amongst United fans. The previous evening I had spoken to Philip Brown who co-runs Red Devil radio. He was amazed at how confident that I was that United would be bringing that trophy back home from Moscow. Ever since the semi-final some 3 weeks before, I’d just had this feeling that United’s name was on it. I got down to the Richmond Arms just as it opened, and together with Jack, and his friends Hanif, and Mark, we got a table right in front of the big screen down at the front – we would have no obstruction to viewing at all.
I could only drink Coke but the beer had started to flow already.

The crowd built as did the atmosphere, and by kick off time, the buzz was terrific. I sat there watching a first half display that should have seen United out of sight by the time that the half-time whistle blew. They had risen to the occasion and had played some scintillating football. Ronaldo had shown that he was never a “big game choker” and Michael Essien must have been dizzy going in at the break for he had endured a first half of pure torture. Renaldo’s goal from Wes Brown’s cross (what a delightful one-two that was with Paul Scholes) raised the roof and the roar was deafening. For the Chelsea fans sat behind us, I think that they feared a real mauling. Unfortunately, some carelessness in giving the ball away, and then some more than fortunate luck enabled Lampard to equalize just before half time. It was a body blow really when you take into context just how well United had played. The Chelsea fans were more relieved than anything else because they knew just how lucky that they were to be going in level at the break.

The second half in my opinion was a dogged affair and although Chelsea pressed, United’s resolute back four performed both heroically, and magnificently. Apart from Drogba’s shot which hit the post (hey! Doesn’t that happen in football?) Van der Saar had never really been tested. I’d hoped that United would have got the job done in normal time, but as the end of the final 90 minutes approached, I was happy to see it go into extra time.

There was an expectation from both sets of fans as extra time began and the noise inside the pub really did escalate – both sets of fans giving it all that they had to encourage their team even though the event was taking place thousands of miles away. Extra time ebbed and flowed – Lampard hit the bar (shame!) but at least he did not have the fortune to get one of those lucky deflections that he has been so fortunate to get so regularly throughout his career. Giggs should have won it for United but managed to fire directly against Cech, and as the time ebbed away, you just knew that it was going to the lottery of penalty kicks. Then there was a fracas over on the far side of the field and culminated in Drogba being sent off for slapping Vidic. Oh! What I would have paid just to see him try that on Vida in the tunnel, away from the cameras. The final whistle blew – penalties it was to be.

However, as people chewed on their fingernails, and others went outside because their nerves wouldn’t stand the drama; I still felt supremely confident that United would prevail. You could eat the tension inside the building as the shoot out began – huge cheers as each team scored. Then Ronaldo stepped up, and I really did have a feeling that if anybody was going to miss, it would be him. As he strode towards the ball and then checked his run, Cech never moved. He’d obviously done his homework. Ronaldo then without a proper run up put the ball exactly where Cech would have wanted it, and the big ‘keeper had no trouble beating the ball away. Chelsea fans roared their appreciation, United fans stared in disbelief. I just sat there and felt that there would be another twist. It’s not very often in these cases that both teams score all five allotted penalty kicks. Chelsea fans were jubilant, and when Nani had put his penalty kick away with such maturity, the Chelsea fans were giving it big and thought they had the premium prize in their pocket. Oh! How wrong could they be!

I watched John Terry as he strode towards the penalty box to take what would be the final kick of the tournament. The biggest prize in European soccer. The cameras went to Abromavich and he had that silly expectant smile upon his face. They returned to Terry, and to me he seemed nervous, twitching at the captain’s armband on his sleeve as he strode forward. I turned to Jack and Clare and said; “he’s going to bottle this.” A voice behind me forcibly said “no way” and I replied “just wait and see.” The whole pub went deathly quiet. Terry placed the ball, turned, then turned again and began his run up. What was going through his head at that precise moment? Did he see glory just a second to soon? Van der Saar stood bouncing upon his goal line. Terry got to the ball and made contact. As the ball began its path towards goal, Terry’s standing leg came from underneath him. His left foot had gotten too close to the ball and as his right foot followed through, it clipped his heel. The ball seemed to take an age to get towards the goal. We saw Van der Saar go completely into the other direction. The ball struck the outside of the goal post and flew to safety, and the Richmond Arms erupted in joyous cacophony! The Chelsea fans just could not believe what they had just witnessed.

The cameras panned back to Abramovich and the look on his face told the story. I sat there in quiet contentment and Jack and Clare just looked before he said; “How did you know?” It was just that intuitive feeling that I had. I was so pleased to see Andersonn stride forward to take United’s sixth kick and it had been a master stroke by Ferguson to make sure that he was on the field when the final whistle of extra time had blown. For one so young he showed a maturity beyond his years as he put his kick away with no problem at all. Chelsea equalized, and you could now cut the tension within the pub.

Striding forward was Ryan Giggs to take United’s seventh kick. The boy who had become a man and over the years of his career has turned into a modern day legend. The only player to have 10 Championship winning medals in his back pocket and just a wealth of experience. People turned their backs and their heads, Chelsea fans willed him to miss but their wishes were never answered. The boy who has become a veteran put his spot kick away with nonchalant ease. Chelsea was playing catch up again and up stepped the enigmatic Nicolas Anelka. His whole body language seemed wrong as he strode forward. It was as though he was on the training ground not playing in such a huge spectacle. He placed the ball and Van der Saar laughed at him, smiled and bounced around. Anelka strode forward and made contact with the ball. Van der Saar had psyched him out as Cech had done with Ronaldo. The ball went in virtually the same place and the big Dutchman dived to his right and palmed the ball away. It was just 4:37p.m.

The pride for me came in the performance and the dignity of the Manchester United team. Their courage, tenacity, skill, and never say die attitude. The dignity, in which they handled the occasion and carried everything out in the Manchester United way. So fitting, that the trophy had come home in the year of the 50th Anniversary of the disaster in Munich. It’s been a long journey for me and one where I was there at the beginning. To see my Club win a third European Cup was something that I never thought that I would see.

The prejudice comes in relation to all that Chelsea is and stands for. I could not believe that they had allowed that little toad Peter Kenyon to lead their defeated players up the steps to receive their medals. What the hell were they thinking of? Surely Chelsea could have given that task to somebody more fitting – unless, as I suspect, it was done to cock a snoop at United. The difference in class came when Sir Bobby Charlton appeared and led Manchester United up to receive the huge trophy. How fitting. Somebody who had been there when the journey began; somebody who had survived the horror of Munich; somebody who had given his all for Manchester United and his country, and who had been the first Manchester United captain in its history to collect the European cup; somebody who has become such a great ambassador for both club and country, but not only them, for the game throughout the world as well; somebody whose life is Manchester United. Far, far removed from the former Bukta accounts clerk who would sell his mother for a profit.

The time of my life came just being in the Richmond Arms that afternoon. I wasn’t feeling great physically, but the elation at just being amongst “family on such an important occasion gave me all the feel good that I needed. Here’s to the next one!