I was eight, sitting in a private box at Manchester United with my dad, Uncle Drew, my brother and three others whose names I can’t remember.
You could tell I knew absolutely fuck all about football when my two bob went into the first goalscorer pot against my chosen name: Nobby Stiles.
I remember a November night in Manchester when the fog was as thick as the scum on the River Mersey.
Following Manchester United ever since has been an act of faith, pride and community born of tragedy. I also had the privilege of being very close to the Edwards family, the owners at the time.
I’ve just read a post on Twitter by
@ChinoUTD quoting Roy Keane, the former United captain, and I feel empty today. The sentiment is absolutely right. The magic has gone out of this club, and the common denominator is the ownership.
Martin Edwards turned out to be even more astute than his father in his stewardship of the club. I knew him and his younger brother well enough to be invited to their house in Alderley Edge for superb Sunday lunches with their dad.
I was a very young butcher from a family of butchers who were great rivals of the Edwards chain. Old Louis always took a shine to me. I think it was because he and my grandfather were great enemies, and it probably tickled him to have me sitting at that table.
But I had firsthand experience of a family who were absolutely welded to that football club and loved it passionately.
I’ve had some great times with United, home and away, for over 60 years. Until today, I’ve never woken up on a Saturday morning before a game and felt… well, nothing.
I really don’t know what to say. But I’ve brought out an away shirt from 30, perhaps 40 years ago. I used to think it was my lucky shirt, so I’m giving it a try.
In my twenties, I earned far too much money, really. I remember a great friend, another genuine United supporter, asking what I wanted out of life.
“Well, it’s pretty simple,” I said. “I want Matisse’s Blue Nude on the wall, with that wall inside Château Margaux. Then I’ll be happy.”
I also quite fancied owning United. But ever since picking Nobby Stiles as the first goalscorer, I knew I wasn’t qualified.
Today, I am qualified to own that vineyard. But life is what happens when you’re making other plans. I regret not owning it.
Not owning Manchester United? No regrets there. That’s for sure.
I’m not wishing this side good luck today. I don’t believe in luck. I believe in hard fucking graft.
And this lot haven’t got it in them.
#MUFC