It was the rarest of achievements. We had already won the Domestic League Cup and the Domestic FA Cup and last night we won the big one. The Champions League Cup. We had the unprecedented Treble.
Is my footballing world every going to get any better than this?
I was recording the match just in case it turned out to be an historic event. I was getting more and more nervous watching the 90 minute match. The pacing started somewhere in the second half when I was unable to sit still. My carpet was getting worn out just as the 11 players wearing red were tiring but they soldered on as did my support and admiration, my hope never waning. I was a long way past eating any more of the slices of Angel cake I had at the start. During the dying minutes, I could barely swallow. I could barely see through tear filled anxious eyes not wanting to miss a second. I needed to see but I couldn’t bear to watch.
I was praying to any God that would listen for that United magic. It came in the last minute of the game. We equalised. We had a chance. By now I had leapt onto the sofa reaching for the moon, eyes wiped clear and completely focussed on the screen.
We scored again immediately. I hung on to a cushion for comfort for what seemed like minutes but it was just seconds.
We won. I cried with joy for several hours, not believing the marvel I had just witnessed. February 2009