Always be cautious around bow-legged people…they’re shifty. Nobody’s going around riding horses any more, so why are they bow-legged? Shifty i tell you.
While I’m on the topic of legs… your knees should not be the widest part of your legs. You’re supposed to have thigh muscles AND calf muscles. Seriously people, I will buy you a sandwich, it just looks fucking disgusting.
So it looks like i have another Old Trafford trip coming up. I’ve had to answer this question a few times recently, and have answered it so many times over the course of my being that it has kind of mutated and i have left certain parts out and embellished on others. So i’ll try to jot it down once and for all…then i’ll get cards printed out with the URL and just hand it over rather than explaining it each time.
Why do i support Manchester United?
It all began a long time ago in a small suburb of Sydney Australia called Peakhurst…or was it Riverwood? One of the two. That general area. I used to hang around with this bloke from school…playing Basketball, cricket etc. I reckon this must have been around ’93 or ’94 cause i remember him playing Snoop Doggy Dogg’s Doggystyle album over and over again. 93 is more likely as I had a bulldog clip around my school notes from that year with Paul Ince crudely written in liquid paper (tipex) and he was sold at the end of the 94 season.
Anyway, my mate had just gotten back from the UK playing cricket for i guess the Australian schoolboys or something – Bryce Young was his name if you are anal enough to check the authenticity of this tale. So we went up to his room one day, to trade basketball cards or whatever we were doing back then and he had his walls completely covered with posters and pictures cut out of magazines of Manchester united players. Who the fuck is Manchester United? A soccer team? Nah fuck that. That’s what the Italian and Lebanese kids at school play. Why the fuck would i want to watch that shit? So he tried to explain it to me in terms i would understand. It’s like watching the origin team week in-week out. State of Origin is what Australian’s and probably many other Rugby League fans would consider the highest level of the game..especially since England are now utter shite at it. Not completely sold yet he delivered the killer blow…it’s like watching an all-star team week in, week out. I was hooked. The NBA was at once everything foreign and familiar to me. It was what we aspired to and knew we could never get to. It brought together all these players from different teams from different parts of a country i hardly knew…places i could not point out on a map, but could name their starting 5 including their heights and colleges, and more often than not their dangerous bench players. So how could i imagine this on a much grander scale…the best players in their positions from countries all over the world playing together every week…a team that in all fantasy, and probably reality would annihilate any team an entire country could put together… Fuck choosing teams! There was only one! Manchester United was football to me. Can you remember the names of the teams ‘playing’ against the Harlem Globetrotters? It was as clear cut as that. It was Manchester United, then a gulf, a chasm, to any other team. Why would i want to know their names?
And so it began. Saturday nights in the rumpus room watching videos of United games he had brought back with him, eagerly waiting for our one football wrap up show on SBS or ABC…one of the government channels anyway. There it was…match of the day or some spin off program. 10 or 15 minutes of goals and wrap-up of the action, followed by an extended highlights package of the game of the week for roughly 45 minutes or so. And guess who the game of the week was? 9 times out of 10 it was Manchester United. In fact i can only remember watching united games…maybe the odd Liverpool or Newcastle match.
I remember the players… Steve Bruce before he ate everything in site.. all the kids Nicky Butt, Giggs, Keano, and later the explosion of the Nevilles, Beckham, Scholes…Cantona, Kanchelskis, Denis Irwin, Incey, Gary Pallister, Lee Sharpe, Hughesy and the goliath Schmeichel in goals. I think we brought in Andy Cole in the first year i was watching.
The following morning, the trampoline would be turned on it’s side to become a makeshift goal as we’d try to emulate whatever highlight we had seen the night before. This was completely unheard of in the land downunder. It was foreign enough to be trying to emulate some NBA moves…in fact if you weren’t pretending to be an Aussie Cricketer, or rugby league player you were a right poof. Unfortunately i found out at an early age that i was painfully rubbish at the game – a fact which has still yet to change – and so i concentrated on watching the sport and rather playing basketball or cricket. The seeds were sewn though.
By the time we got pay tv years later and i realised there were other teams in the league it was too late. I was a one team man.
Of course it wasn’t all clear sailing. I still couldn’t quite grasp why the commentators would make such a big deal about ‘local derbies’ in games between Chelsea and Arsenal or United and Liverpool…weren’t they all London teams? Sure it was the English premier League…but the Australian Football League (AFL) was just played by a bunch of short-short wearing girls in Victoria and some Victorian rejects over in Western Australia…it wasn’t really national. Christ 18 of the Rugby League teams were from Sydney and we didn’t bang on about local derbies…
It’s since become clearer…
I don’t remember the qualifying campaign for the 94 world cup, so i might not have been totally in love with the game by that stage, just the United way. I had to read about it later that after topping our group, Australia then had to play home and away legs against Canada – which we won – followed by home and away legs against Maradonna’s Argentina just to fricking qualify. We lost 2-1 on aggregate.
Not so, four years later when i was amongst half of the nation to be late to school/work thinking we were heading on our way to the World Cup in France with a 3-1 aggregate lead over Iran and only 30 mins to go, only to see us concede two late goals. Once more i would be watching the World cup purely to see United players turn out for their respective countries.
Less than a year later i would be celebrating United’s treble, without really grasping the significance of the feat. Sure i was watching a lot of United games…but they were all games still. We were not really getting the amount of coverage that would allow me to understand the nuances of league Cups, F.A. Cups, the League, the European Cup….i just loved watching united play, United playing well, United winning!
At this stage i did not have a hatred for any other clubs. I knew which clubs were capable of beating us on the day – if we played poorly – which players posed a threat. I knew which other teams and players i could watch while waiting for a United match to come on.
By the time of the next World Cup i was coming to the end of my Uni degree, and working full time in the evenings as a bar supervisor in an R.S.L club. This is where i was put on my first test, though hardly a baptism of fire. Across the road from my club was a sort of up-market shopping center with diamond stores etc, that for whatever reason used to solely hire English and Irish backpackers. Keen for a drink they would pack into my club on a Friday and Saturday night ripping open fresh pay packets to satisfy their thirsts. And so began the banter. I was United. I would single out the other United fans and we would trade stories and memories. I would match wits with Arsenal fans and pre-roman Chelsea fans. Any faux pas i would make were to be ignored…he’s only an Aussie. A moniker which would haunt me later entering the big leagues of football fandom.
Watching the 2002 finals surrounded by these English and Irish fans, i made up my mind…i was moving to the UK. To give it final impetus i decided i would have two years in the UK, preferably Ireland cause i am genetically predetermined to also hate the English, and then 2 years in Germany to get myself setup with a place where my mates could come and doss to watch the World Cup in Germany in four years time. Sorted.
Didn’t quite work out how i’d planned. I’d stopped in London on my way to a job in Ireland to visit a friend, only to find out that there was no job. I ended up getting a live-in job at a bar paying 160 pound a week, living rent-free above the pub. 70 pounds of my first pay check went to my first United Jersey…which i still wear to the pub each week, and every time i go to Old Trafford. 40 pounds for the Jersey, 10 Pounds for Giggs’ name and number, 10 pounds for the official FA badges and an extra 10 pounds for long sleeves…Giggsy only wore long sleeves back then.
I would wait till my second paycheck to buy a Woollen Duffle Coat for the cruel November winter.
Which brings on the next turning point…apparently it is not ok to support your own team.
Up until this stage i had never come across, or even heard the term ‘Anyone But united’. South London is full of them.
My first premiership match was Chelsea vs Middlesbrough at Stamford Bridge. Chelsea won 1-0 thanks to a Celestine Babayaro sprint down the left. i remember sitting the entire game on my hands so as not to cheer every time Chelsea lost the ball. I was in the home section of the Bridge. When i did let out a yelp at one point i made it abundantly clear that i was Australian and was ever so proud of having the Aussie Mark Schwarzer in goal of Middlesbrough.
It was to be almost 3 years before i finally made the pilgrimage to Old Trafford for a boring 0-0 with a Sunderland team who had not won a game all year i think. I almost died of embarrassment when our keeper lunged to cover his post on a shot that was some 8 to 10 yards wide which was met by my sister’s stunning observation…”our keeper isn’t very good is he”. We’ll talk about this after class.
Yet here i was, unable to wear my beloved Jersey to my local pub, for fear of retribution for the locals for something my team did to their team some 100 years ago or something. Admittedly i knew most of the punters around my local area from working in the pub so i didn’t cop it too much. Unfortunately that sort of clout did not help me outside of Balham.
I never really had anything against Arsenal. I liked watching Thierry Henry (obviously before “Le Hand”) and Freddie Ljungberg, and Dennis Bergkamp was capable of the sublime. I hated, hated, hated Ray Parlour and Martin Keown with a passion. Still to this day i get annoyed when i see them on TV for whatever reason. But apart from them i was quite capable of watching an Arsenal match if i was waiting for someone else to come on. I even had a cheeky bet on Freddie to score first in one F.A Cup final as he had 4 goals in 5 games or something coming into it and was still double figure odds. He scored second. Ray Parlour scored the first. Cunt.
However, when United drew Arsenal in some FA Cup tie…i can’t even remember if it was a semi or what, i decided with a mate we would watch it on neutral territory somewhere. I was working in Farringdon at the time and thought the city might be nice and neutral. Of course all the pubs were shut when we got there as the Square Mile is pretty much barren outside of office hours. With 15 minutes till kick off we jumped into a cab and said take us to a sports bar, we want to watch the game. Unbeknownst to me, ‘sports bar’ apparently means strip club. Unfortunately we didn’t find this out before the beer was poured, and had to exit quite quickly at the behest of two very large bouncers…drinks paid for but not drank.
Minutes to go now and we stumble across some standing room only pub. Fuck it. This will have to do. We watch the game in near silence. United won! Walking away from the pub to the tube my friend and i were stopped by several people wanting to know the score as it was a fairly big game. By the time we got on the tube we weren’t even talking about the footy any more, just regular shit. Neither of us were wearing colours. When we got to Baker st tube these two lads that were sitting across from us spoke to us as we were waiting to get off:
Tosser #1: Do you guys know the footy results?
Me: United won 2-1.
Tosser #2: Fucking united cunts..
At this point i was a bit unsure if he was referring to us or the team so i just turned around and waited for the doors to open, at which point it became clear it was directed at us as a bit more abuse followed….until he spat on me…
Now i didn’t feel it or anything at the time so my friend had to tell me later, but he saw it and immediately turned to them saying “Touch my mate again and i’ll fucking kill you!” – Dave had a way with words and a way to back them up. We continued up the stairs with these dickheads behind us but not really saying anything. We crossed the floor to take our stairs as they went to leave the station. At the very last minute Dave turned around to see where they were and that was enough of a trigger for these gobshites. They sprinted across the floor and attempted some sort of flying kick which missed my head as i was three steps below them.
Tosser #1: Come outside man, we’ll fuck you up! Come outside where there’s no cameras you fucking cunts!
Exactly how many people respond to this offer with “yeah alright, may as well…”
Now i know these people did not represent the Arsenal football club, they may not have even been fans, but it is not going to stop me associating Arsenal FC with dickhead cunts looking for a fight. I could probably break this association with some therapy but why bother…united fans are supposed to hate Arsenal.
Likewise i’ve never really hated Liverpool. I have always had mates who supported Liverpool, so have always seen them play. I don’t like them, i don’t dislike them. I am just ambivalent. I don’t want to lose to them that’s for sure. Perhaps if i had to put up with them gloating all the time i might change my mind but lets be honest…it’s been a while since they won something and might be a while till they win something again if the Rafa-lution continues….
I’ve never hated City either..mainly cause i think of them as a bit of a joke. I liken City fans to people who like unsigned bands just because they are unsigned…’this is real music man’, ‘this isn’t about the money’. Sound familiar? Where are you hyping on about your lack of money now? Manchester is Red! Stephen Ireland is a red! You can have Tevez. Jokes on you.
I hate Chelski, mainly because they seem to be our biggest threat. I hated them for the money thing and trying to buy the league and i do think they destroyed part of the game by paying over the odds for everyone, but i know they can never buy one thing and it’s team spirit. Have a look at them after they have scored a goal…it looks about as awkward as some parents sobering up on the dance floor of a wedding…there is no camaraderie, no feeling in it. Just a bunch of investments thanking each other. Chelski will never have class.
So hopefully that explains it beyond the point where i have to listen to another retard talk about, oh but you’re not from Manchester…what a surprise? You’re just fucking stupid. It doesn’t matter how long you have supported a team, or how many games you’ve been to, or how many tattoos you have or any sort of shit measure. If you feel passionately about a team then fucking support them and be proud of it.
If you cut me do i not bleed? Of course i do. I bleed red. Manchester United red. Try telling me when i feel sick after a loss that i’m not a real fan and see how far you get with me…
Tags: AFL, Allstar Game, Andrei Kanchelskis, Andy Cole, arsenal, Basketball, bow-legged people, Carlos Tevez, Chelski, Cricket, Cunts, David Beckham, Denis Irwin, Dennis Bergkamp, England, Eric Cantona, Football, Freddie Ljungberg, Gary Neville, Gary Pallister, Gary's Brother Phil, Harlem Globetrotters, Harry Enfield, knees wider than your legs, Le Hand, Lee Sharpe, Liverpool, Manchester City, Manchester United, Maradonna, Mark Hughes, Mark Schwarzer, Martin Keown, Middlesbrough, NBA, Nicky Butt, Old Trafford, Paul Ince, Paul Scholes, Peter Schmeichel, Ray Parlour, Roy Keane, Rugby League, Rusty Shovel, Ryan Giggs, Snoop Doggy Dogg, Stamford Bridge, State Of Origin, Steve Bruce, Thierry Henry, World Cup
The Washington Generals have beaten the Globetrotters 6 times :D and lost about 99,000