I couldn’t let Sunday pass without reference to the Manchester derby and a wonderful first-half performance by City which demolished the old enemy and laid the foundation for a 6-3 win.
At the risk of sounding biased, that was the finest 45 minutes of football we’ve seen in the Premier League era.
But the last derby I saw was a bit different. Back in December 2003 I took my 10-year-old daughter on the Man Utd Supporters Club bus to Old Trafford.
Let me explain. Two tickets for the derby had been put up at a Reds’ sportsman’s dinner and I was egged into bidding – in the mistaken belief they were for City’s home game.
I think it was a put- up job but I won them, only to discover they were for Old Trafford.
Unfortunately I made the mistake of admitting later at home that I had paid a decent amount of money for these tickets – and my daughter was adamant she wanted to go.
I often wonder where I went wrong – several members of my family from daughters to grandsons, and a granddaughter are all Man Utd. Even my son (whisper it) is Newcastle United.
So that’s why I booked two seats on the Utd Supporters Club bus and we found ourselves perched in the gods level with the six yard box at the Stretford End.
The game was only seven minutes old when Paul Scholes fired them in front. All around us were on their feet – except me – and even my daughter was standing and cheering loudly.
She gave me some frowning looks but worse was to follow. On 34 minutes Ruud Van Nistelroy added a second and again they were all on their feet.
“Dad will you stand-up!” was Emma’s response when I sat hunched up in my seat.
To be fair, the United contingent all around had guessed what was going on – City dad with his United daughter – and were very understanding.
Even when Shaun Wright-Phillips pulled one back on 54 minutes and I ignored our Emma and leapt to my feet there were just knowing looks.
They might have seen what was coming for in the last quarter of an hour Scholes sealed it for the home side with his second.
Naturally I got some good-natured stick on the bus back home but that’s part and parcel of nailing your colours to one particular mast.
Fortunately over the last 10 years I’ve had plenty of opportunities to get my own back, although I have never returned to Old Trafford.
