Never-never land

Manchester United 1 Fulham 3
Premier League Saturday 25th October 2003

Let�s not beat about the bush here - United were outclassed and lucky to get
away with only conceding three goals. Fulham had waited nearly 40 years for
this victory and they thoroughly deserved it.

I had said, on the way up, during one of the most tedious of journeys, that
we should consider turning around and going home. It just seemed to be one
of those days. And it didn�t help when we heard the team news. There was an
audible groan in the car when we discovered that, apart from Giggs, the
whole of the midfield had changed. Now, there may have been perfectly good
reasons for those changes (after all we are not privy to inside information)
but when big Rich suggested, �They would only have to pin the United
teamsheet on the Fulham dressing room wall for motivation� that Tinkerbell
had escaped from Never-never land and had come out to play.

We only just made it in time for kick-off. We ran the last mile from the
Trafford, although I�m not sure why we bothered. I could have saved myself
the effort and meandered down to the ground. Fulham turned up in their
fetching (not) off-the-shoulder tops, but United didn�t. The red shirt is
supposed to signify power, strength and aggression, but there was none.

Fulham scored in the first few minutes. They could have been 3-0 up before
half time, and the only point of tangible amusement was when a lone red
wearing a ginger wig and tam o�shanter hopped onto the edge of a gangway
wall and did a jig. The stewards didn�t know what to do but fortunately
showed restraint, and the lad was finally escorted back to his seat to great
applause. 

When Diego scored in injury time, at the end of the first half, we
disregarded the total injustice of it all, celebrated wildly (more out of
relief than anything else) and went below in fairly high spirits. Fergie was
bound to skate down from his lofty perch on a tide of bile and the lads
would come out with their hair blasted. So the mood downstairs was
reasonably upbeat. And at the start of the second half it seemed as though
United would get their act together and turn the game around. For about 15
minutes United looked like themselves but that�s when it ended. Fulham
scored twice more and there was no return.

I say there was no return, because there wasn�t - but there should have
been. There was more than enough time for someone in a red shirt to get hold
of the game and turn it in our favour. It�s happened so many times in the
past, but even Scholesy, when he came on with 20 minutes left, hardly got a
touch. Fulham were in complete control.

And that was the major disappointment - that there wasn�t anyone who could
inspire the rest. There was no hope. Passion was replaced by lethargy. There
was no self belief. Not in the stands, where there was a great deal of
bellowing, much gnashing of teeth and a large dollop of f�ing and blinding.
Major discontent spread as far as the black and white corner where it
disappeared in a wave of delirium. �Can we play you every week?� they asked.
It�s not something you want to hear at Old Trafford.

To top it all it pissed down as we left Old Trafford, perfectly mirroring
our mood. We got drenched on the way back to the car and I hadn�t fully
dried out 3 hours later as got out of the car and almost fell into the
house. 

It was not a good day - not good at all.
-- 
Copyright Paul Windridge 2003: http://www.Red11.org
--


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