An eyewitness account from the Stretford End
Last Sunday, the world watched on, rapt, as Manchester United fan Rory McIlroy won the Masters, lost it, and then won it again, in golf's own version of extra-time. On Thursday, the football team he loves followed his lead.
Where to start with Manchester United 5 Lyon 4? How to convey the madness of that match-going experience?
The scoreline gives its own indication: Old Trafford has never even hosted a United game that finished 5-4 before, and this ground has been standing for more than 115 years! The only other occasion we've won by this score on any ground was at Highbury in February 1958, in the Busby Babes' final game on English soil. Last night was also the first nine-goal game in Europa League history.
But those nine goals only really provide an outline of the chaos contained therein.
But those nine goals only really provide an outline of the chaos contained therein.
For a true reflection of what we all experienced last night, you had to be there. You had to see the faces – thousands of them, barrelling out of Old Trafford in a state of utter shock.
Some were joyous, some simply exhausted; a few appeared like pale ghosts that had temporarily left this realm for a distant planet.
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Full 120: United v Lyon
FULL 120 | It was officially a classic European night at Old Trafford against Lyon! Devour the entire match replay...
It had all started so serenely, with arguably United's best 45 minutes of football under Ruben Amorim. Diogo Dalot's expertly taken goal, just prior to half-time, had made the game almost safe, according to many around me in the Stretford End.
The players and our head coach had implored the Red Army to bring its best on Thursday, and I'm proud to say that we did. Old Trafford was rocking for much of the first half: an impressive tifo was unveiled in front of the Sir Alex Ferguson Stand before kick-off, pyrotechnics popped, and John Denver and 'Take me home, United Road' produced the effect that Bruno Fernandes believes it can.
The words on that tifo, 'Never Gonna Stop', became the theme of the night, really. The chant it's taken from rang around the Theatre of Dreams at various points throughout the contest – though it meant quite different things at 0-0, 2-0 and, finally, 5-4.
But when we descended to the concourse at the interval, the tune of choice was 'Follow, follow, because United are going to Bilbao!' The beer was flowing, the smiles were secure and the dream was very much alive.
Little did we know the psychological trauma that was in store for us.
Little did we know the psychological trauma that was in store for us.
Surrendering a two-goal lead can happen. But conceding four consecutive goals at home (two during a period in which we held a one-man advantage, after Corentin Tolisso's red card) was scarcely believable. It was a crushing blow to those of us on the stands.
Within half an hour, the atmosphere had shifted from euphoria to dysphoria. At 4-2 down, the air seemed to have been simply sucked out of Old Trafford. Some around me in the Stretford End wondered aloud whether the season was ending, crumbling, before our eyes.
Some even left the stadium the second that Alexandre Lacazette's penalty hit the bottom corner.
Initially, there was silence. Stunned silence. But then the first tentative cries of belief.
'United! United!'
At that point it was only a flicker. Did we really actually believe it was possible? Of course we did. It's Manchester United. It's Old Trafford. This club came back from a living hell in 1958. The idea that we will never give in is baked into our identity.
But we weren't exactly placing any bets. Not yet, anyway. But then, a slice of luck: a penalty for Thiago Almada's foul on Casemiro. Bruno scores, and the Red Army is off the life-support machine and ready to return to normal activity.
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Our unreal seven-minute comeback in full!
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For the next few minutes, it's just pure stress. Lyon are down at every opportunity – interrupting play, trying to cadge a few free seconds wherever possible. It's nausery 101, and we've seen it all before, but it's still infuriating.
Surely there'll be four or five minutes added on at the end of 120 minutes?
Remarkably, as it turns out, we'll barely need them. We won't need even a penalty shootout.
Three of the most perfect touches from the right foot of Kobbie Mainoo send Old Trafford into paroxysms of joy not seen since Amad's winner against the Scousers, 13 months, to the day, earlier.
I'm more than a hundred yards away, in the Stretford End, and it's chaos. These are the kinds of moments you live for: emotional embraces with people you've never met, some of which you will never see again. Lads fall down several rows in the melee; the cheeks of fellas in their sixties and seventies are returned to full, red, boyish ruddiness.
'Was that Casemiro?'
We haven't got a clue at this stage, until Alan Keegan delivers the news that it's Kobbie over the Tannoy. (Let's just pause to praise Casemiro, by the way. He was the architect of all three of United's extra-time goals – how important was Amorim's decision to rest him at Newcastle?)
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Which is your favourite Mainoo goal so far?
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Staggeringly, there's more to come. Harry Maguire.
But you know all about that. You've seen the goals; you've read the reports. And if you've been to Old Trafford and you've experienced one of the many, many winners we've scored in what has colloquially become known as 'Fergie time', you'll know what this kind of moment feels like.
There are things in your life that mean more: the birth of children, the satisfaction of personal successes, the first chimings of a romantic connection... But if you love your football club, there is no greater momentary rush, no more spine-tingling high, than the one you feel when your team scores late after a preposterous comeback, in a game where your hopes were, at one point, almost non-existent.
It's as close as you can come to an out-of-body experience (legally, at least), and it can leave you utterly shattered.
When the final whistle goes, we wait for all of the players to leave the pitch. We sing for each and every one of them. We sing about Bilbao, about hope, about belief.
Half an hour earlier, you had no idea that this was going to turn into one of the best nights of your life. But here it is.
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Maguire’s 15 goals are so, so enjoyable!
HERO | The great Harry Maguire has now scored 15 goals for United! His three most recent have all been dramatic headers…
The morning after, the buzz is still writhing inside you. Your phone is hammered with messages, memes and clips that let you know that there are thousands of us, all over the world, all feeling that same buzz, that same connection to this wonderful thing we all put so much of our energy into.
"It's a very Good Friday!" goes one message, attached to an image of Harry Maguire mocked up as Jesus Christ – a man that knows a few things about comebacks.
"I still don’t think I’ve processed what actually happened last night – I was sat there in shock for about 10 minutes after the final whistle," goes another text.
One lad, the owner of a cup season ticket, explained how 10 minutes before the end he had said farewell, for the season, to the guy that sits next to him, who always leaves five or 10 minutes early. It's fair to say that no-one was expecting any further cup games at Old Trafford at that point.
"I guess I'll see him one more time!" laughed the man with the cup season ticket.
What it all means won't become clear until months, maybe years, to come. We don't know if United will win the Europa League. We don't know if this will be a turning point for the team, or Ruben Amorim.
All we know right now is that this was one of the greatest matches in Manchester United's history, and yet another reminder of the immense richness that our team can add to our lives.
I'm still breathless, I'm still a bit baffled. And I'm still a believer.
We're going to Bilbao. Definitely once, and maybe twice...
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