so i’m not a “true” manchester united fan.
it’s not my fault that sir alex ferguson became manager even before i was born. it’s not my fault they were just starting to win stuff when i began to understand what football was. and it certainly isn’t my fault that my then-teenage sister decided she liked manchester united because my father is an alumnus of the university of manchester (although he did live closer to citeh’s home ground) and i, being a natural older-sister-worshipper at age 8, decided to follow suit.
the closest i came to playing football was that stint in futsal in college. i don’t play video games, never did the fantasy football thing and i am still a mess when it comes to grasping the real significance of transfers and formations and strategies.
but boy do i love my club. i love watching them play, i love listening to others analyse the game afterwards, i love the jesting, the bordering-on-insulting remarks we throw at each other in person, on twitter, on facebook. i love the camaraderie i have with the people who love the same club i do.
and i love the history of the club, which is something i understand more than the game itself.
so going to old trafford was important to me. some call it a pilgrimage, a journey essential to one’s relationship with manchester united. i can’t say it was a religious experience, but it came pretty close to that. it was important that i get there. it was one of my first stops during my trip to the uk.
i just couldn’t wait.
btw only about 1% of seats are allocated to fans of visiting teams whenever they play at old trafford. that’s 68000 people in united jerseys vs 8000 visitors. intimidating? i should think so!
and the last word…