It really, really hurts to think about it still. I’ve never actually experienced this much pain from watching a sport, and possibly outside as well. I imagine what this is what a broken heart feels like. For days, its been a numb weight in the center of my chest that sends me into an sluggish, absent-minded lull every time I think about it.
Back to the day of. Overwhelming emotions took me from my couch to the restroom after the fourth goal. Anger, humiliation, hatred, sadness, all whirled into a mind devoid of conscious thought. The pain was blinding. The fury was too much to express or bear. I just hovered over my sync, water on, trembling. I would only find out that evening that the score line had increased before the whistle. Although truthfully, a 50-0 loss would have been the same thing.
I’ve spent the days ensuing trying my best to focus on music, work, and nothing else. Or I tried. My everyday brain has been 50% Manchester United for as long as I can remember, and that can’t change. I haven’t spoken much since, to the point where my sister yesterday pep-talked me into snapping out of apparently what’s been the quietest period of our living together.
I document myself at this time so that I’ll remember that I suffered. Followers of top teams in any sport grant themselves the exquisite privilege of celebrating many emotional highs. But the ones that can suffer alongside the club and confront the emotional lows during its darkest hours are what separates the supporters from the fans. I’ve long chosen to be the former, and I will continue to suffer through what was United’s greatest disaster after Munich.
Putting things into perspective, the pain is persistent and excruciating because we deserved it. Fully. City were better. 6-1 better. Silva was a revelation, and City’s successes were the by-products of his existence. It hurts, but its needs to be acknowledged, accepted, and dealt with.
Given: Sir Alex is the God of United – Unquestionable in all matters. But I deeply lament his choice of fielding Johny Evans, a defender prone to ball-watching, and lapses in concentration. Sir Alex once turned bright purple yelling at him in Milan, finger in face, profanities flying out his mouth, all during a game in which Johnny had repeatedly been tormented by Pato at lone striker. It was the first time in 12 years that I had seen Sir Alex single-out a player for criticism during a game. Start him against Aguero and Balotelli…he may as well have winded up the guillotine.
Others must also share the blame. Perhaps the stupid journalists are right, maybe Rio is past his prime. Who knows? I choose not to believe it, but I’d be lying if his career’s poorest display did not shake my faith at all. Both wingers were ineffective, uninspired. Anderson turned back into his old, selfish ways. Evra had his hands full with Micah, and Smalling couldn’t cope with both Clichy and Aguero maurauding our right flank. It was the biggest game for our season thus far, and we should have started big game players. Giggs instead of Anderson for more flair and creativity. Park instead of Ash for more big game aptitude. And finally, Jones rather than Evans for overall positional competence.
Tactical changes are hindsight. But attitude is not. I decided to stop watching when I saw the team bereft of the United spirit. We reacted like any other team in the situation. Retreat, scramble, lose hope. United is the embodiment of a very simple mantra – Relentless. Never, ever die. It is why I will love this club so much. But the team on the field that day was not Manchester United in that sense. The only players who stormed back and forth like rabid dogs were Rooney, Fletcher, and Evra. A pitiful 3/10. Determination is an inborn trait of character, and not something a coach can enforce for life. Based on this performance, my greatest fear is that perhaps this latest generation of Reds has not been fully scouted for that critical ingredient. I sincerely hope this is not true. Tactics, talent, and refereeing decisions aside, this is paramount above all else. The squad must remember that.
Forza United.
The Beautiful Game 