I watched my first United match on Boxing Day in 1997, a 2-0 win against Everton, and I’ve been a season ticket holder at United since 2006/07. I’ve been lucky enough to see the riches – titles lifted, trophies paraded, the glory years. I’ve also seen some of the struggles of the last decade or so. But I can honestly say that in my 28 years of watching United, nothing has topped this. Not the Scholes strike against Barcelona, Van der Sar’s saves, not Rooney’s overhead in the Manchester Derby, not the day we lifted the league at Old Trafford. This was the proudest, most memorable moment of the lot – because this was the day I took my son to his very first match at Old Trafford.
It was only a pre-season friendly against Fiorentina. On paper, not exactly one for the ages. But for weeks leading up to it, the excitement built. Every time we spoke about “going to see United”, his eyes lit up a little more. And the closer we got to matchday, the more I realised just how much this meant to me too.
We set off early. I wanted him to take it all in, no rush. Walking down towards the ground, he kept looking up at the looming stands in the distance. The closer we got, the more amazed he became. At one point he just stopped, pointed, and said: “It looks like a spaceship!” I laughed – not a bad description, really.
Before heading in, we stopped at a café on Sir Matt Busby Way. He tucked into a bacon barm while two legends – Cantona and Keane – looked down from the pictures on the wall above. He didn’t quite grasp who they were yet, but I told him they were kings of Old Trafford in their day. He nodded between bites, clearly more focused on the bacon.
Then we strolled towards the stadium, surrounded by fans in red shirts, scarves and bucket hats. He was full of hope and completely wide-eyed. Once we stepped inside and the stands opened up before him, he froze. “Wow…” was all he managed. The sheer size and history clearly hit him all at once.
Pre-match, he joined in with the cheers while working his way through a packet of winegums. He flipped through the match programme and his new United Heroes kids’ book, pointing out players he recognised from TV. When the new signings were introduced to the fans, he clapped along enthusiastically. He paid particular attention to Bryan Mbeumo – “Bryan”, as he called him all game – the recent signing from Brentford.
As for the match itself… well, it wasn’t exactly vintage. A 1-1 draw, with plenty of wastefulness from United, especially down the right through Amad Diallo. Chances came and went without much to shout about. My lad’s enthusiasm started to fade in the second half, the early start and excitement catching up with him.
By the last ten minutes, he was half-asleep in his seat. We made the call to leave slightly early – meaning we missed the penalties and David De Gea’s long-awaited goodbye before the final whistle. At the time, I thought maybe we’d regret it. But as we walked back towards the car, he suddenly turned to me and asked: “When can we come again?”
That simple question hit me harder than any last-minute winner. It sent shivers down my spine. I knew then that this wasn’t just another game – it was the start of something for him, just like it was for me all those years ago.
A beautiful day. One I’ll never forget.
Football Foyer 