A trip to Old Trafford
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It’s been a year and a half that I left India to come to Newcastle. Understandably, the one thing on my mind all this time was when I would go to the one place on earth I have always dreamed of going to, the Theatre of Dreams, Old Trafford. I put it off for far too long and too many little things have come in the way. No more! I had enough of waiting and watching and I had to go; the date was set – 26th December 2012. I decided to wish myself a belated Merry Christmas.
It’s ironic that the game I chose to go for was the one between us and Newcastle United. All the planning in the world couldn’t get us a ticket but we decided to just go to Manchester and see if we can manage something. There weren’t even any of the tours available at the time of leaving Newcastle, but my friend and me just took off with just a small rucksack, some cash and a prayer.
I cannot tell you what it was like to lay my eyes on heaven for the very first time. I have heard of love at first sight. Now I know what it means. Your heart skips a few beats, you get all giddy and all you want to do is run to it and at the same time try and keep calm; and then I lost it. My jaw was on the floor. I was here! You know the banner that says Manchester is my heaven? Well, that is what Old Trafford is to me; every inch of it looks so perfect; there is a certain romance associated with the club and it is evident with the way the steward, the guy selling you banners and programmes and the fans talk to you about the club. For the first time, I was among people who understood my fanaticism for the club. You start to sing all the United songs you can think of without even a moment’s hesitation. I was home.
Then reality struck. What about a ticket? Of course, we cheekily tried our luck at the box office for a game that was sold out weeks ago; the guy at the counter was suppressing a chuckle while almost telling us to move on. We even tried to get some the ‘black’ way; the tout said 150. I love Man Utd, but even I cant get that kind of money. We decided to see if he drops prices. Almost 30 mins later, just at the point of saying of giving up, a man walked by with his 9-year-old and whispered “Need tickets?”. And just like that, we got tickets for the west stand for 50 pounds. We still couldn’t believe our luck!!!
We paid him and scrambles to get to the ground. The last time I had a moment like this was when I laid eyes on the Taj for the first time. My mind went blank! For a few seconds, all I could do was just soak in the atmosphere. I have watched the team play before but to see them on home turf being cheered on by the crowd was so new to me. we settled in and waited for the game to start not having a clue about the rollercoaster ride that was awaiting us.
What a game! It was perfect in every aspect. I got to see United make a comeback not once, twice but THRICE! My heart was pounding throughout. I barely sat and sang my heart out, danced with strangers, swore like a sailor, and pleaded to the higher powers for victory. I watched SAF have a go at the ref, watched Scholes and Giggs calm the team down and watched an inspired comeback after giving away some cheap goals. And what a finish it was. When Chica scored the winning goal in the 90th minute, 73,000 voices blew away the measly 2000 from the Toon. We came out chanting and singing on the streets.
