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Eastbound & Down

I managed to avoid the post-Europa final wake at OT vs Villa as I was headed to Manchester Airport to get on another flight – this time en-route to Kuala Lumpur via Istanbul. The moment I’d heard rumours of an end-of-season Asian tour I was determined to go. The only stumbling block was the potential cost but a few minutes research informed me that both flights and hotels were reasonably priced. Match tickets ended taking a bit longer but that was more due to my inept attempts at navigating both the Malaysian and Hong Kong ticket portals. After a handful of failed attempts and declined transactions I eventually got there so was good to go.

The flight was late departing, which meant that a leisurely 2 hour layover turned into a stressful 25 minute jog/power walk across the entire length of Istanbul Airport. I made the KL flight with 5 mins to spare but was disappointed to find it packed as I was hoping to commandeer a row of seats and get some sleep. Instead, the next 10 hours were spent flitting between films, podcasts and trying to snaffle as much free booze as possible every time the trolley made an appearance.

Landing in KL, the first thing I clocked was a Malaysian Airlines plane emblazoned with the United crest which signalled that the team must have landed too. I made my way to arrivals where there were numerous dignitaries and shirt-clad locals hanging around waiting to greet the players. I’d seen quite enough of them over the last few months thank you very much, so quickly swerved it and made my way to the lower levels of the airport in search of the express train to KL Sentral.

Having successfully boarded the train, 30 mins later we were approaching the centre and I was getting a true indication of the sheer size of the place. The outer suburbs turned into rafts of skyscrapers, busy flyovers and neon lights – very Bladerunner-esque. I’d chosen a hotel in Bukit Bintang (main tourist area and good for food according to the internet) so then had to take the Monorail half a dozen stops to where I was staying. Stepping outside the station was the first time I’d been out of air-con range since I’d landed and the heat and humidity were something else. Beads of sweat quickly formed on my forehead as I walked the few hundred yards to my digs.

It was about 9pm local time after I’d checked in and despite being knackered having barely slept in 24+ hours, I knew that crashing now was a bad idea if I wanted to avoid jet lag. Instead, I went for a wander in search of a drink. Bukit Bintang at night was buzzing and the streets were packed with people. It didn’t take me long to find a decent bar where they were serving pints of Tiger for £4 and the locals were getting stuck into the karaoke. I had a couple of pints followed by a few G&Ts before deciding to call it a night. I wandered back to the hotel and despite the time approaching midnight, the entire area was still bouncing.

The next morning I was up early and relieved to find I’d slept for 7 hours straight. Mission accomplished and I was feeling great. Today was going to be all about packing as much in as possible and doing the typical tourist stuff. First I needed some breakfast so after a quick shower I headed out again and my word, even early in the morning the humidity-level was quite literally breathtaking. Walking round KL you have to move slowly otherwise you’re just a sweaty mess gasping for oxygen within 5 minutes. Thankfully, their air-con game is next level so anywhere indoors and you’re laughing. You have to bear this in mind at all times. Don’t even contemplate walking anywhere more than 20 minutes away.

That day I travelled outside the centre to visit the Batu Caves (massive gold statue, brightly coloured steps, Hindu temples and wild monkeys), had a mooch around Chinatown (Chinese food) and went to see the Petronas Towers (19th and 20th tallest buildings in the world, fact fans). It was very easy to get around, the people were friendly and I never once encountered a language barrier. Everything was unbelievably cheap. I ate at a restaurant for the princely sum of £1.30 and public transport cost pennies. The only thing approaching Western prices in KL is booze (due in part to it being a predominantly Muslim country) but everything else was insanely good value.

The next day was the match so after another day sampling all I could sample, I got the train out to the 87,500 capacity Bukit Jalil National Stadium situated a few kilometres outside the centre. Arriving at the ground over an over before kick off, the adjacent area was packed with food vendors and stalls selling all kinds of dubious-origin, United-related tat. I walked towards the ground confused why there were still thousands outside as I expected most people would have gone in by now. As I got closer the reason became clear – there were only about a dozen turnstiles open.

I joined one of the half-mile long queues which barely moved for 15 minutes before deciding I’d had enough. Sweat was rolling down my back, I needed a drink and was also desperate for a piss. Not proud of myself but I walked straight to the front and pushed in, nobody said a word and I didn’t really care anyway – I wasn’t going to wet myself just to remain polite. Once inside I grabbed a drink (no beer unsurprisingly, iced tea of some variety instead) and took my seat. The ground was pretty uninspiring inside as there was a running track meaning you were miles away from the pitch. The problems getting people in were evident as the vast majority of seats remained empty as the teams warmed up.

The opposition were the ASEAN Allstars (no, me neither) but the crowd were all there to watch United. The local fans belted out ‘Glory Glory Man United’ as it played at deafening volume over the PA system and the players received a rapturous welcome. Onana seemed to be a particular favourite ‘OH-NA-NA! OH-NA-NA!’ and unlike the players, everyone seemed ecstatic just to be there. Rather than put on a show, the team opted to demonstrate their very worst and could barely string a pass together once the match kicked off. I’d sat through this too many times in recent months so decided as half-time approached I was going to head back into town instead.

Back in my ‘local’, I learnt we had lost 1-0 and the reported attendance was actually 70K+. It didn’t look to be anywhere like that number from my viewpoint but maybe there was ultimately – people were still making their way into the ground as I was leaving. One thing worth noting is how placid the crowds remained despite the problems entering the stadium. If something like that occurred anywhere else there would be have been chaos but everyone remained chilled and just seemed to accept the fact they weren’t getting in anytime soon.

The next day it was back to the airport for an early-afternoon 4hr flight to Hong Kong. I was sorry to leave KL after only 3 days and could have easily stayed longer. If you love exploring new cities it really is a must-visit as everything about the place was spot on. The people, the food, the ultra-modern architecture and the sheer ease of getting about made for a memorable few days – I honestly couldn’t recommend it more. Nevertheless, I was excited for the next leg of the trip and keen to experience whatever HK had in store.

I’d opted to stay in Kowloon as opposed to HK Island and after checking in to my hotel, made my way to meet a mate who’d arrived earlier in the day. First impressions of the place were all nods to HK’s colonial past – they drive on the left, the traffic signs are British replicas and they have double-decker buses same as home. The darkness and miserable weather added to the sense of familiarity as I made my way to the pub where we launched into a comprehensive post-mortem of United’s season.

The next day it had stopped raining but the forecast didn’t look promising. We took the Star Ferry over to HK Island and spent a leisurely day exploring. Highlights included a ride on a mad little double-decker tram (these have been operational since 1904) and a meal at the Joy Hing (a renowned BBQ spot visited by the late Anthony Bourdain). As the afternoon progressed we settled into a pre-match booze ahead of United’s final game of the season taking place that evening.

We left the pub for the short walk to the ground and unfortunately it was pouring down. Everyone else seemed to have anticipated this and planned accordingly judging by the number of umbrellas on show. Another strange cultural thing I noticed was everyone shuffling towards the ground in a very orderly manner, no one spilling into traffic or walking in the middle of the road. Imagine pre-match crowds walking down Sir Matt Busby Way but limiting themselves to the pavement only – it all seemed very odd.

The match was at the 40,000 capacity Hong Kong Stadium and once again, it was well short of capacity. Despite United still possessing a strong pull, there’s no doubt that the latest generation of international fans’ loyalties might lie elsewhere now. That said, the promoters might want to take a look at their pricing structure too. I mean, I’m daft enough to pay £100 to watch the current crop of clowns in a meaningless fixture like this, but it doesn’t automatically mean everyone else should follow suit.

Anyway, the game was as dull as expected and United went 1-0 down (I think) so at HT we did the sensible thing and sacked it off. It was still bucketing down so a brisk walk to the subway was in order before we eventually settled down in the boozer to see United lift the (checks notes) ‘Defining Education Challenge Cup’. It appears we’d missed an unlikely(?) 2nd half comeback. Feeling every bit as underwhelmed as the players looked on the pub’s TV, we toasted the conclusion of our worst season in decades.

The next day we had a decision to make, it was either the Dragon Boat Festival at Stanley Beach (quite a big deal locally) or the HK FA Cup Final taking place at the splendidly-named Mong Kok Stadium just a few stops away via the MTR. We opted for the match and although Google gave no clues on how to obtain them, we arrived at the ground to find tickets on open sale. It was about £11 to get in and once inside we found a tidy little 6,000 capacity arena that was filling up nicely with fans of the respective finalists.

Despite not being great quality, the match was entertaining and we lasted longer than we did the previous evening. Watching the groups of Ultras go about their business was amusing and the celebrations greeting the goals completing a late comeback by Eastern FC veered on raucous. After the game we went for another meal (my chopstick proficiency was slowly improving) and then set off for HK Island again. The plan was to catch a bus up to Victoria Peak to witness the famous panorama of Hong Kong after dark… not anticipating it would be completely obscured by a thick layer of fog. The ferry back over to Kowloon at least provided some spectacular views of the harbour by night, albeit from a far lower vantage point.

The next day I awoke to glorious sunshine as the weather had finally decided to sort itself out. My mate had an early-morning flight but I still had a few hours to kill until I was due at the airport. I went for a walk, which led to lunch and a couple of beers before grabbing my bag and starting the journey home. I flew back via Shanghai and once again, the brutal 12 hour final leg was chock-a-block which meant I got very little sleep. I arrived back in Manchester at 7am desperate for a shower and the luxury of my own bed.

These post-season tours might be loathed by pundits and players but I’d had a marvellous time. The whole thing cost less than what some people paid for a Bilbao hotel room and I’ll be all over it should any repeat be announced in future. The lack of European trips next season is hugely disappointing but the silver-lining is it presents the opportunity to save for something similarly exotic at the end of next season. Japan/South Korea would be nice, please – if anyone from United’s Commercial Department is reading.

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Euphoria

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Even if attempts to salvage something from this season via Europa success ultimately end in failure, we’ll always have Lyon at home. We’ve been fortunate enough to witness many trophies won over the years but I’d argue moments like that Maguire winner are a much rarer, more precious thing in the life of a football supporter. As an approximate guess I’ve probably celebrated, I dunno, getting on for 2000 goals at United games. That one was right up there as one of the greatest ever. Just for the sheer improbability of what had just occurred.

I can probably count on two hands occasions at the match where I’ve reached that level of headloss previously. It’s a feeling that defies a rational explanation and even if you tried, it wouldn’t sound credible to anyone who hadn’t experienced the same thing themselves. Such scenes tend to be described as ‘limbs’ these days by social media try-hards, with most examples shared tending to be contrived and merely performative. That Maguire goal was more than just limbs, it was one of those moments where you blackout completely and come round 30-40 seconds later thinking ‘what the fuck just happened?’

The feeling it evokes is something close to genuine elation. People try to seek it out through religion, sex, drugs or music but I dunno… as sad as it may sound, to my mind nothing on earth comes close to an injury time winner in absurd circumstances like that. I really should have grown out of this by now. I’m 51 years old and have had many great days watching United but clearly, they still possess the ability to stun me on occasion. What a night. What a feeling. Football man.

As Napoli edge ahead in the race for this year’s Scudetto, the man of the moment is Scott McTominay who’s been tearing things up since his move to Italy. Regular MOTM performances, plenty of goals and rave reviews every week – good for him. Whilst I’m pleased that the move has worked out for the lad, I still can’t get my head around the chorus of social media wailing that follows his every performance now. McTominay is doing well at Napoli but that doesn’t mean that United weren’t entirely correct to sell him when they did.

During his 7 years as a first team player with over 250 appearances, I can barely recall a single occasion when he dominated the midfield. I know he chipped in with a few goals, particularly during his last season, but for the most part he was a passenger in an underperforming team. His attitude was good but his range of passing was poor and he’d routinely concede possession. Even more crucially, he’d regularly go missing when we were crying out for someone to show for the ball. This isn’t singling him out for criticism as his midfield colleagues were equally at fault more often than not.

The fact he’s doing well in Serie A is great for him personally and I hope he continues to enjoy himself there. But let’s put this in some perspective given that he’s back playing alongside Romalu Lukaku. Christ, Darmian and Mkhitaryan are still turning out for Inter Milan at the combined age of 71. I know Italian football is highly technical and can be just as wildly entertaining as it was in its fabled 90s heyday, but it’s just not comparable with the insane physical level of the Premier League. You receive the ball in Italy and have 3-4 seconds to think about what’s next as opposed to having 3 players closing you down in an instant. McTominay is thriving there because the game is played at a slower pace and it suits him better.

I don’t wish to come across as a know-it-all but I told you last month that Bilbao was definitely happening and it looks like it definitely is. I refuse to entertain intrusive thoughts of impending disaster in the home leg so as far as I’m concerned we’ve already qualified for the final. And no, I’m not feeling smug at all about booking direct return flights from MCR last July whilst everyone else is now scrambling round for ways to get there via Timbuktu.

The recent visit for the semi-final provided another memorable day and showcased what an incredible place it is. It’s a cheap drink, the food is world class and the hosts are some of the nicest people you will ever meet. The centre was buzzing all day with locals out on the streets bedecked in red and white stripes. I’m not just talking groups of lads – I mean entire families, pensioners, kids and family pets. All very friendly, not a hint of malice anywhere, all wanting to shake hands and welcome us to their city.

As we got closer to the ground an hour or so before kick off I couldn’t quite believe the scene there. There were thousands packed into the streets surrounding the stadium and there was a full-on carnival taking place. Fireworks, smoke bombs going off, music pumping out of bars – they were having a proper party. I asked a local kid if this was because it was a big game and he just shrugged and said “a few more people because of the bank holiday… but no, it’s always like this”. Personally I’d never seen anything like it. What a gaff.

If we do meet Spurs as is looking likely then I’m sure it’ll be fine for the most part. They are seasoned travellers like us and I expect the vast majority will be wanting a peaceful trip without any mither. With a 15,000 allocation everyone who merits a ticket should get one easily enough, and that’s including members with credits who’re ineligible to apply as things stand. Once people start looking at the logistics of getting there and the lack of accommodation I expect many will swerve it in the end – so there should be plenty of spares floating about for anyone struggling. (Remember this was the case for Stockholm in 2017.)

Fingers crossed then, after what’s been an utter shitshow for the most part, 2024-25 might well end on a high. At times it felt like the club had been cursed this season but perhaps not, eh? Good luck steering clear of the Irish bar divs in Bilbao, enjoy the summer break and I’ll see you in August.

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Dizzy Heights

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Even in this (putting it mildly) testing season, we’re still fortunate enough to experience days that many other football clubs would dine out on for decades. Another trip to San Sebastián was guaranteed to provide some respite from our domestic travails, only tempered by the suspicion it might turn out to be the final European trip for a good while. A couple of days of wine and pinchos bookending a moderately important game of football would be a more than satisfactory way to bow out if this was to be our last hurrah.

As it was, any fears were unfounded as the team came away with a credible draw – lucky perhaps to have encountered a Sociedad side who looked even more toothless than United. The tie was then settled at OT a week later where for the first time, we got a glimpse of what Amorim ball might look like in the future. I remarked to a mate as we walked out of the ground how weird it was to see the entire crowd smiling and happy. We’ve been so bad at home for so long that such occasions now feel like rarities.

Assuming relegation is successfully avoided, the entire season now rests on the Europa League and I can’t help believing that we’re gonna win it now. I know this flies in the face of common sense, but it just strikes me as a very United way of concluding what has been the worst campaign in decades. We’ll beat Lyon in a couple of weeks and then providing we get at least a draw in Bilbao we’ll do them at OT, no problem. Then it’ll be back to Bilbao for the final where we’ll face perennial bottlers, Spurs. I’m telling you, it’s happening.

The slight upturn in form that preceded the international break signalled the moment for the club to finally send ST renewal emails. A general 5% increase is probably lower than most were expecting given the rumours that had suggested a hike of 20% or more. Nevertheless, the pattern is now set for year on year rises until we’re paying the kind of prices billionaire Sir Jim probably sees as fair and reasonable. Freezing prices for under-16s was a blatant attempt to manipulate the narrative but the continued erosion of the OAP discount signals exactly what the club’s long term intentions are.

It wouldn’t surprise me if the rumours suggesting hefty price increases were started with the intention of making a 5% rise more palatable. Credit to the FAB for engaging with the club and arguing vociferously against any rises at all – but they’re ultimately fighting a losing battle when the club’s entire operating strategy is based on generating as much revenue as possible from any source they can think of. Long-term ST holders are an inconvenience blocking the club’s ability to welcome further hoards of free-spending day trippers. It’s the same story at virtually all PL clubs now.

Obviously, we’re being manipulated in the same way we have been for years. The laughable explanation that the rises are necessary due the club’s financial woes could almost be described as gaslighting. So we’re supposed to believe that we’re in this mess because we’ve not been paying enough at the turnstiles? Do me a favour. The club is financially screwed because the Glazers saddled it with unsustainable debts that have grown exponentially despite a cumulative income of around £8.5 billion since 2005. They’ve pocketed £166M in dividend payments whilst employing utter buffoons to oversee what’s basically been a managed decline over the last couple of decades.

Prior the price rise reveal we were treated to our first look at ‘New Trafford’, with the proposed plans for the new stadium being thrust into the media spotlight. Some would describe the design choice as ‘bold’, others might use the word ‘ridiculous’. It just left me shaking my head as it looks even more deranged than anticipated. I mean, of course they’ve come up with a concept featuring 3 massive towers visible from Liverpool. I mean, what billion pound in debt already-business wouldn’t think of that as an entirely sensible proposal? Honestly, what a club.

Tellingly, once again there was zero information provided on how the club intends to fund this monstrosity. Which, as you may recall, was the most glaring omission from the plans presented at the OT Regeneration public meetings held back in December. With the continued absence of such crucial detail, speculation is only going to intensify as to exactly what their plan entails. JP O’Neill, the esteemed former editor of Red Issue published a Substack piece that provided some insight on a potential worst-case scenario.

Given their reluctance to entertain the prospect of renovating the existing ground, it’s looking increasingly possible that any new stadium could ultimately be owned by a 3rd party entertainment behemoth with the club merely holding a long term lease. Meanwhile, all current assets will be demolished with the land sold off to property developers – which would explain precisely why Gary Neville has been involved from the start. In short, a potential sale and leaseback that would mean another insane payday for the Glazers and leave the club as tenants in the shiny new OT megadome.

It’s a vomit inducing prospect, but a very real one. Although nothing is confirmed, I don’t see how else this project becomes viable without such a doomsday scenario being presented as a fait accompli. The e-reds won’t mind in the slightest as most don’t have the attention span to understand the implications of the club surrendering their core assets and signing off on a rental home. That would be quite some legacy for an alleged ‘life-long red’ to leave behind. If this is just scaremongering and doesn’t reflect Ratcliffe and the Glazers’ intentions, then let’s hear some denials.

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