Last week Bri Monster asked me to describe what it was like going to Old Trafford–and I couldn’t. I do know that, when I stepped off the train outside the stadium, I actually teared up; it was one of the most awesome experiences of my life. I’d been waiting twenty-five years to get there; when I arrived it was actually better than I could have anticipated. I’m not sure how to explain this, so I’ll go by it circuitously. Back in September 2003, I heard Bruce Springsteen play “Jungleland” live. “Jungleland” was, and remains, my favourite Springsteen song, and is easily one of my top five favourite songs of all-time. Yet when I heard it played live, it was almost a letdown; in a way, the anticipation–the idea–of hearing “Jungleland” surpassed the reality. But visiting Old Trafford was actually better than what I expected it to be like. In fact, in the weeks since the match, my love of United has actually intensified. The live experience cements a fan’s relationship with their favourite team; I believe this now more than ever.
Anyway. I’ve got a lot of thoughts about the experience, which I’ll get to later this week (promise!). In the meantime, here are a few pictures.
This is what Liverpool looked like the morning of the game–I shit you not. For a few frightening minutes, I thought it’d be postponed. This was like a real Canadian blizzard.