A day out in Manchester

It was suggested to me last month that it would be nice to visit my in-laws in Yorkshire and stay for the weekend. Isn't it funny how many ways there are to ‘suggest’. But any good wife knows how to turn things to her advantage. "And besides", she said, "my sister's boyfriend has got a ticket for you to go and see Manchester United against Wimbledon".

I have been fortunate in my refereeing career to visit many professional grounds but they have never included the great Old Trafford. The bonus was that both the referee and fourth official were friends of mine, Rob Harris from Oxford and Jeff Winter from Tyne & Wear. So all of a sudden the weekend with the in-laws looked increasingly attractive. A chance to see a great game, a visit to the holy grail of world club football and, finally, a chance to see refereeing colleagues in action from a spectator’s perspective.

A larger-than-life experienc

After a heavy night out in Leeds, I arrived at the ground over an hour and a half before kick off. The gates were still shut but it allowed me to savour the atmosphere. The place was massive. Not just the ground but the thoroughfares around it. Although he gates weren't open yet there were thousands and thousands of people milling around. There were more hot-dog stands and concessionaire stands than at Blackbushe market. And there seemed to be more officers of the law than in the whole of the Thames Valley. The scale of everything was incredible. As Chris, my guide for the day pointed out, the match was sold out weeks before, so there weren't any tickets to be had. What, then, was going on?

The truth is that a match at Old Trafford is a whole day experience. You enter a wooden-gated turnstile that reminded me of the old Elm Park but there the similarity ended. Once through the gate you were in a whole new world. Five flights of stairs took us up into the dizzy heights of the North Stand. The concourse behind every level contained wide avenues of red rubber floored galleries containing food outlets, programme sellers and bookmakers. Being naïve I never realised what went on behind the ranks of spectators. The days of a pie and a cup of Bovril have well gone, although you could still get both if you really wanted them.

The whole experience was surreal and I hadn't even taken my seat.

A different view of football

Finally the match. My seat was so high I had vertigo, and I'm not joking. I was higher than the Olympic Gallery at Wembley and couldn't read the numbers on the shirts, let alone see player's faces. (I know what you are thinking but my vision is normally normal). Chris, who could read the body shapes and language, had to tell me who was who for ninety minutes. Have you ever watched football from an airship?

The actual match was awful. The referee got a mark of nine in the next morning’s review but in truth he had nothing much to do and that's not taking anything away from him. No cautions to discuss and debate and a lucky Manchester United got a point.

For me the whole day was about seeing such a match from a different position than on the touchline or on the box. After ten minutes hearing chants from my right of "If you all hate Leeds, clap your hands", it all felt surreal - I thought I was watching Wimbledon.

And the cost of 'progress'?

I came away thinking how clinical the whole thing was and that, for all the benefits of safety, all-seater stadia had taken away a lot of the atmosphere I imagined Old Trafford used to have. The spectators looked more like the crowd you would expect at a pop concert.

Still my thanks to Kathryn and Chris for a great day out. I just think it will be a long time before I return to Old Trafford. I still believe that football is a game to participate in and that means being close to the action, whether that be as a player, official or spectator. Even at the Madejski Stadium you can still recognise the players’ faces.

John Moore 

© J. Moore 1999

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