I recall the whole day like it was yeaterday
15 years old, my dad used to drink in the well known spit n saw dust pub, The Junction in Cheadle Hulme. Big blue pub.
We started the day there. Dad, Uncle and Me.
I used to love that pub as a kid before its gentrification , id sit in the first room on the left where the pool table was , with my coke n crisps, staring open mouthed at the ‘characters’ that adorned the place.
From there we went early to The Claremont. No idea why, it wasnt a pub Dad usually went in, but thats where we were.
At some point the United team coach went past and the pub half emptied as punters grabbed ashtrays, pint pots, whatever to sling at the passing piss bus.
On to the game, i never saw the result coning, we were both struggling in the table but id never seen us beat the scum, and it was some years before i saw it again!
Tricky Trev putting us in front, the invading scum in the North stand battered and sent on their way , bruised.
As they were escorted past us in The Main Stand to the Platt Lane corner, the whole stand seamed to rise to sing , “Youre the shit of Manchester”. Id never seen the Main Stand go feral!
From then .. delirium. Twitchy arsehole when Lesley scored the Volley to make it 3-1, pure delight as Oldfield and Hinchclife (hes the full back you know) put it out of reach!
Stood on my chair chanting , “Easeh, Easeh, Easeh”.
Got home later, met my pal and we both went off to frank clarkes newsagents on Worcester road to buy a pink, seeing a red bastard pal and both calling , “ 1 2, 1 2 3, 1234, 5-1!” And whacking him round the head with our rolled up pinks
Pure joy
