45 Years

Ten months ago I was looking forward to watching Manchester United defend the Premiership trophy they had snatched so spectacularly from the Rent Boys of Kings Road a few months previously.
Move forward to June 2008.
I’ve just watched United consistently play arguably the best football I’ve ever seen. They successfully defended the title and won the Champions League for the 3rd time in their history (or for all you pedants the 2nd time they won the Champions League to go with the Wembley victory of 1968). So what’s the problem?
I’m bored.
Unbelievable? Maybe. Understandable? I think so. I made my “debut” on the same day that George Best made his. I’ve seen Denis the King, Eric the King and a few Princes in between. I saw Kiddo celebrate his 19th birthday in grand style and celebrated what would have been Sir Matt’s 90th birthday in even grander style. I’ve laughed helplessly at the dross served up by Frank O’Failure and revelled in the excitement of Big Ron’s team of Robbo and Norman but it’s no longer enough.
I’ve found myself increasingly screaming longingly for the “good old days” of 3 o’clock kick offs. After 16 years of having to continually wonder whether I’ll be watching United on Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday instead of a choice of Saturday or Wednesday I just can’t be bothered any more.
I have access via TV / Satellite to enable me to watch every United game, home and away almost free of charge. I can sit in comfort with a pint or a glass of Red in my hand and watch to my hearts content. I don’t have to sit in front of that idiot who has ruined my Saturdays, Sundays, Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays for the past few years with his constant slagging of some of the finest footballers in the world. I thought beer goggles were supposed to make things look beautiful not ugly?
Last January United sent me two tickets for the away game at White Hart Lane against Spurs. I looked at the cost. I looked at my bank account. I felt the cold radiator in the corner of my lounge. I looked in the mirror.
This wasn’t the first time that I’d almost decided enough was enough. I had missed the odd season because I decided my pursuit of a good (or any) woman was more important than the pathetic unrequited love of United that I really should have grown out of years ago, but I knew at that moment that this was my last season. Basically because I was sick of it. I still had five months of the season to go but it became more of an effort to drag myself to OT and sit through yet another 90 minutes.
I went to Munich for the 50th anniversary of the air disaster and became even more disillusioned when I realised that although over 400 United fans were there nobody was sent officially from United. Harry Gregg’s wife turned up in her wheelchair and Bayern Munich sent a couple of dozen representatives, including their Chairman Karl Heinze Rummenigge, but United couldn’t be bothered. The disaster had nothing to do with Bayern, United had played Red Star Belgrade and had only gone to Munich to refuel but Bayern took pride in their “friendship” with United and paid their respect. I suppose there was more copy for the directors of United to appear on Sky or MUTV at OT as they were sure to be watched by thousands of Irish or Japanese fans.
Non-match going friends don’t really understand why I‘ve got rid of my season ticket. Those who I’ve been going to the match with for years can see my point but aren’t yet ready to make the break. The former liken it to a football fans equivalent of working in Hanleys Toy Store. I used to. They can’t understand that while for quite a lot of the time, it is fun, it just ain’t what it used to be and while it’s just there to be enjoyed I have just simply stopped enjoying it.
I mentioned earlier that I was sick of the ever changing kick off times. While this is true it isn’t the only reason. Whatever the cause of my disillusionment, whether it be kick off times, ticket prices, arrogant players like Christiano Ronaldo who actually believes that people like me should be thankful that I’m fortunate enough to watch him or idiots like that vile man who sat behind me for most of last season, I feel that the charm of the game I‘ve followed all these years has gone.
It’s not just United. The Rent Boys, city, scousers and everybody else you care to mention are focused on money. Who cares who won the Premiership? Would anybody actually remember who won the FA Cup and the League Cup last season if they didn’t support Portsmouth or Spurs (I had to look them up)? I doubt it. The winners barely have time to down a flute of champagne or Malvern spring water before another season is almost upon us.
Euro 2008 has come and gone and the draw has already been made for the early rounds of next seasons European cups so instead of following United as a match going Red I’ll continue to write my observations about football in general for anybody that wants to read them.
During the close season the managerial merry-go-round has continued. Paul Ince stepped into the managerial big time early last week by holding his first press conference as a Premier League boss, his nerves did something for which West Ham fans would heap toxic abuse on them forever more - they unwittingly betrayed him. Clearly ill at ease in front of all the reporters, he fidgeted relentlessly and spoke with a voice that was all aquiver. But, credit where it's due - at least Ince didn't scurry over to the Ewood Park centre circle andsit with his back to everybody while leaving the hapless Gareth Southgate to field their questions instead. Lessons have been learned since Euro 96, then.
Unbelievably Rover’s chairman said that part of the reason he picked Ince was because he would have learnt from working under Sir Alex as his predecessor Mark Hughes did. Has he never heard of Brian Kidd?
Whilst I’m on the subject of people forgetting about the past take a step forward Karl Heinz Rummenigge when he said “I cannot believe that a club like Real Madrid can force a player like Cristiano Ronaldo to cause such tension, because the price that they will have to pay is too high for everyone”….clearly forgetting Man United’s pursuit of Owen Hargreaves last summer. From Bayern Munich.

And finally, I almost changed my mind about not going to United again when I saw that Eric the King has been speaking to the media so it may be time to follow that trawler again. The King has tossed a rather fat fish to the seagulls: a declaration that he will become "the best manager in the world" - preferablywith either Manchester United or England.Since hanging up his boots in 1997, Cantona has played many rolesincluding a wooden actor, a photographer and, at present, themanager of France's world champion beach soccer team. Last week hetold the French media that soon, perhaps even after next month's beachsoccer World Cup, he will start pursuing yet another vocation."I will return to 11-a-side football just to become the best managerin the world - and that's exactly what I will become!" bellowed my hero. "I will do the job as a creator and an artist ... I want to give football something new," continued the creator and artist who last gave football something new by launching a crazed kung-fu attack on a racist Crystal Palace fan.Asked where he foresaw his dream unfolding, Le Roi ruled out hisnative France on the grounds that: "Ligue 1 is miserable. It shouldbe banned! We don’t have the best players in the world but most ofall the managers are a pain in the **** they shouldn't be allowedto advocate such a cautious way of playing."Nor does he aspire to leading his own country, even though he claimedhe would do a much better job than either the current incumbent,Raymond Domenech, or the rumoured heir, Didier Deschamps. "ObviouslyI would be the ideal person to manage France," he quipped. "I wouldbe able to put in place a more attractive style. Deschamps would be just a continuation of Domenech. But I don't want the job and I certainly won't be offered it."His preferred place of employment, he insisted, would be Old Traffordor Soho Square. "English football flows through my veins ... I wouldlove to offer my vision to the English because it is a very beautifulvision."
We can but hope……