So, it happened. To be honest, from just about Christmas, deep inside, I never had any real doubt that it would happen. But deep inside is not the same as applied logic. And being so convinced, deep inside made it more difficult when there have been hiccups.
And, I have to say, United have just had the worst run of the season. The match at AC Milan was disappointing. Not that I watched it - I did listen on radio, but that really isn't quite the same thing. And the draw at Chelsea was only slightly less dismal than the depressing defeat at home to West Ham. The season isn't over: we also the FA Cup Final looming. Victory would land us the Double, nothing to sniff at. Defeat would be unfortunate, but would still leave us as Champions. For a few moments, on Sunday, when the trophy was presented, when my boys were being presented with their medals, I felt slightly pleased. Then, the thought occurred to me.
That's the end. A fleeting triumph. In three months, we begin again. Nul points, same as everybody else, with mountains to climb and obstacles to be overcome. I am examining myself, where is the pleasure in this? I recall in 1993, when we won it for the first time in my lifetime, I had a feeling that nothing good will ever happen again. And the next year we won the Double; later, the Treble. But it all counts for nothing when a new season opens.
Perhaps it's a metaphor for life. But I'm trying to work out what aspect. Am I becoming old and jaded...overheard the other day, someone said "I know I'm getting old because this bloke said 'I've got a nice piece of grass at home' and it turns out it was the lawn under under his tree."
Is it a reflection on the circle of life, the meaning of life. All joy is transitory, all misery lingers?
Or is it a critique of vicariousness? Alex Ferguson and Ryan Giggs can rightly point to nine championships. They've achieved that. they look in the mirror in the morning and they don't have to question their value. n one can take those achievements away from them. But me, I just sit and watch.
And yet, sit me down in front of a good football match, and I will enjoy it for it's own sake. It's a beautiful game. The pleasure is passing but it is worthwhile. Next season doesn't matter. Saturday is exciting, it's the new Wembley, over-budget, over-deadline, but nevertheless the home of the FA Cup Final.
