After a few days and 90 minutes of surprisingly solid football, there has been plenty of time to reflect on what may have been Manchester United’s defining loss of the 21st century so far.
In the Europa League, Manchester United echoed the actions of a gambler, down to their last bit of money after a series of losses. They sat at the roulette table, where they kept on calling red, which, to their shock, would come in whilst everything else all night had failed to do so.
Not knowing when to quit, they bet one too many and watched it all crumble. Worse yet, to their horror, two tables along, another player had done the exact same, but they won that last hand, walking away making millions.
Millions isn’t hyperbole either, since that’s how much Spurs have just earned after ending their 17-year trophy drought—millions a desolate Manchester United team desperately needed.
Millions, which instead can only be raised by a further exodus of staff, a further raising of ticket prices and an additional feeling of pain as the knife sinks deeper into your backs. It’s a Judas-like betrayal for a Manchester United team to be this unrecognisable, this desperate.
On that note, the ticket prices were £1077. That’s the offer for a season ticket from the Red Devils. Across 10 months on finance, that’s the price you’ll pay to be a United season ticket holder in the Gods of the Stretford End.
Over £1000, or more specifically, over 88 hours on minimum wage, which it’s said 6.5% of the UK population at least find themselves on. For a working-class city like Manchester, for your club to demand so much and offer so little is absolutely gut-wrenching.
That’s Manchester United, though. A team that manoeuvres it’s audience into paying ridiculous sums based on nothing short of FOMO, that same FOMO that the club has operated on for every transfer window in the last decade – throwing money at puzzle pieces from a completely different jigsaw just because they like the look of picture that was promised on the box.
Alexis Sanchez, Harry Maguire, Casemiro—all given unsustainable salaries just because, ‘What if they can show that magic here?’ Even in-house, they repeat that same mistake over and over again. Paul Pogba was kept too long, Victor Lindelöf will only leave the club this year, Phil Jones was given an extra four years, and Marcus Rashford was given an extra zero on his salary.
A sickness of the mind and body has left United looking gaunt and husk-like, the shell of a once-great football team. The club itself is unable to recognise its problems. When they do finally act, it’s almost always too slow. Applying tape to one hole as water leaks through, only for three more to open up. The water leak comment should be taken quite literally.
Today, it would be generous to call any position at Manchester United a poisoned chalice. There’s no semblance of any gold here, no jewels. The one element of the club that has remained consistent, that being the fans, are slowly being edged out with decisions like those aforementioned ticket prices.
But, still, they travel. Thousands to Bilbao, and thousands more who would’ve taken their place in a heartbeat. All were rewarded with that shocking performance.
Onto Wednesday’s performance itself. A decade ago, you’d have not believed your eyes; today, you blame yourselves for ever expecting any better. Toothless, without any semblance of a killer instinct
To lose four times in the same year to the same team—not just any team, but that Spurs team. Four games, zero clean sheets, three games without scoring, three goals scored total, two of which were directly attributed to a goalkeeper error. All while fielding a starting XI that, at this point, has cost far too much.
As I wrote the bulk of this, it was 5:02 a.m. on the morning after. I was up because I had to go to work at my factory job for the next twelve hours—the same job I’ll spend most of this week doing. My, you guessed it! Minimum wage factory job, used solely to pay for my season ticket.
My best mate was in some overpriced hovel in Spain, cursing under his breath every player or coach at the club and probably himself for ever believing we could do it. Hundreds more Reds were lining the streets, trying to get what sleep they could at bus stations or whatever else they could manage.
In reality, those players and this club do not deserve us, not us, me, and him, but us, the United fans, online or in person. If they give that, then they don’t deserve a single one of us.
But inevitably, like last year, my message to fans (and I’m qualified to offer a message, got a degree and everything) was ‘Back the manager, and if he goes, then you back the next.’ It remains the same today.
My mate and I will still be there for the first game of next season. You’ll still be tuning in, as you normally do. The Rúben Amorim chant will still echo around Old Trafford for as long as he’s here and we’re still there. Because if Amorim is right and “the good days are coming,” then I know we’ll all be there to see that prophecy come true.
Ultimately, when you get to the core of it. We’re just creatures of habit, and we just can’t shift. And, at its best and oftentimes when it’s far off from that, Manchester United week in, week out remains the best habit you could ask for.
Make sure to follow UtdDistrict on X, Instagram, Facebook, YouTube, and TikTok to never miss out on any of our Manchester United content. Our podcast, What the Devil?, is streamed live every Thursday at 12:30 pm (BST) on the United View YouTube channel.