Who the F@#&%*k are Man United!

Now, that almost makes up for the two weeks.

I had been remiss in my futbol viewing, missing the Tottenham debacle, the Stoke failure, and the Champions league ‘eh’. But they had taken their toll on me, and I was nervous as I awoke Saturday morning.

I arrive in the East Village at 6:15. Since I was early, I grabbed a hot butter bagel, which would be key later (beer being easier to drink when it has something to play with in your stomach). I got to the Church at 6:35, first one in line. Hell I was there before Kieren. One does have to ask themselves a question or two as they stand alone outside a bar in the morning waiting for open, but not on such a day as this. I waited patiently out in the dark, watching the other faithfull arrive. It did amaze me how many people walked past me to the door. No, it’s open, I am just standing out here in the cold and the dark without a cigarette cause I enjoy it. Get back in the Line! But as Jack promised, the door flung open at Seven am, and I was the first to get a pint.

Mark and Arjun eventually arrived, Mark kind enough to bring my kit. We were also joined by Blonde Beard, I chap we had met last year on the 3-2 10 man comeback game. We all feared the worst but hoped for the best, and giggled as friends when Van Persie showed up dressed as Zoolander. But the time had come and the game was off.

Now the best part of the game was that we played like we should be playing. The defense looked less broken, Diaby proved why Wenger believes in him, and Cesc played like Super Cesc Fabergas. And god bless the king of New Highbury, for both his joy but terror inducing first goal (being up 1 nil is like getting away with the perfect murder, technically you should feel good but at any minute it could all fall apart), and his more reassuring second goal. It did help that United looked off, Ronaldo was at half steam, and Rooney was shooting like he was on International duty.

The viewing experience was mostly jubilant, with tinges of terror that it would all fall apart at any minute (man, Rafael’s shot was intense). Dom showed up at halftime to bolster our ranks (Dom is quickly earning a slot as an alternate in the 4 man army). Not even Arjun knocking my entire beer over could bring me down. We even outsung the Man U fans three times over, not something that happens often. It got to the point where Portly Asian Dude With English Accent (or PADWEA) had to break out “Do you hear United sing (cause I don’t hear a fucking thing). Although I have never seen or felt a longer stoppage time in my life. Six minutes for kicking our keeper in the face. We did not get that when Eduardo got his foot kicked off.

After the match, Mark, Arjun, and Blonde Beard enjoyed a celebratory shot and brew. I declined, due to work later, but did commiserate with a lovely lady who also had to go to work after the match. Take what you can get.

I had a good chat with Blonde Beard about what this meant for the Season, and headed off. This was the first in a series of tough matches for us, and I hope we keep this level of play up. In typical fashion, at our best we can beat just about anybody, we just got to do that every match.

I am on a one beer limit for the next two matches, leading up to a 2 derby Sunday after thanksgiving, but I will be at the Church, milking my single Harp and singing along. Come on you Gunnnnnnnners.