What English Heroes Are Made Of

So I've accomplished everything I set out to do.
My ultimate goal has been attained.
If this trip's purpose were a Christmas dinner turkey, then it's a cooked bird.
I will die a happy woman because....

I attended a Manchester United football match. (gasps of admiration; trumpets; hoohurrah etc.)

Yes, indeed. It was a glorious night last Wednesday when I set out to catch the all important Champions League match between Manchester United and, hailing from Portugal, Benfica. Both teams needed the points to cement a spot in the impending knockout phase of the Champion's League.

The UEFA Champions League, also referred to as the European Cup, is an annual club football competition put on by the Union of European Football Associations. Only the most successful football clubs in Europe partake, and the cup is one of the most prestigious club trophies in football (soccer). Over a billion people follow the Euorpean Cup.

With so many people watching, it is no surprise that Champions League competitions stimulate plenty of cash flow for the clubs that qualify to compete. The UEFA distributes part of the revenue obtained from tv deals between participating clubs; for example, the 32 participants of the 2005/06 group stage are estimted to share €430 million. Clubs also make additional money from ticket sales, corporate hospitality, and merchandising--evident when you make the pilgrimage to Old Trafford hours before the game where streets are lined with merchandise trailors and food stalls.

The Champions League is not to be confused with the the FA Premier League, or the Premiership, which is a league football competition for top clubs in the English football league. The Premiership is England's primary football competition, and apparently the most-watched sporting league in the world. If the Champions League is a moneymaker, then the Premier League is even more impressive for club ownership because it also has over a billion people following it, and it is based within just one country.

The Premiership is a league of twenty clubs, currently. It's often criticised (by non-English, and some bitter non-Manchester United fans) for the fact that in it's entire fourteen-season existence, only four teams have won its title: London-based Aresenal and Chelsea, and North Western England's Blackburn Rovers and (of course), Manchester United.

Manchester United is the most successful Premiership team, having won the title eight times in total and being the only club to win it for three consecutive years. However, United is not the only Premiership team in these parts (thankfully, I will be long gone when some of my newest friends/die hard Man U fans read this because they would beg to differ) --but, there is in fact a whole other team in the league from the same city. Again, I hesitate to even mention said "other" team, but for information's sake--that's my story and I'm sticking to it--the other Premiership team is Manchester City.

Who knew? At least I didn't, not until I arrived here to find that the world's greatest, uncontested and most wonderful football club was, in fact, a matter of opinion. There are plenty of fans for either side. Actually, tonight the city was host to a very important match: Manchester City v. Manchester United. Of course, everyone was out in support, meaning I could hardly get a plot of space on the sidewalk, let alone a seat in a restaurant tonight. There are even places that forbid patrons from entering wearing their team's colours on such a night--the bouncer asked my company to unzip his jacket before we got in to ensure he wasn's sporting any particular shade or hue implicitly announcing where his loyalties lie.

Manchester United 3 - Manchest City 1 ...but I was with a United fan, so thank the stars because football is serious over here and I didn't want the game's outcome to affect the ride on Manchester's giant wheel we were about to embark on.

(By the way --it's Manchester's version the London Eye and the laugh of the city is that the wheel is shy in height of the actual buildings surrounding it, which wasn't entirely true. But really--how exciting can riding a giant wheel be?)

Back to football--hopefully diehards and anyone else scouring my blog for football inaccuracies will excuse the digression...

The rival between United and City: not so much of a rival considering United almost always comes out on top. From what I've had the opportunity to take in as a completely unbiased and partisan observer, the rivalry is really more about what type of club you support, and how it's a direct reflection of the type of person you supposedly are. To generalize and in short:

City fans: diehard to the bitter end, which is usually the type of end it is; rougher around the edges (but that is a massive generalization because it implies that all the other football fans are not a little rough around the edges); stick-it-to-the-man types with a little guy's mentality. City fans say: it's only their payroll.

And United fans are: loyal; obnoxiously, undyingly, hopelessly proud; diehard in every sense of the word; defensive and a member-of-the-aristocracy types with the hero's mentality. United fans say: the history is proof.

I was in United territory on Wedesnday night at the team's stadium, Old Trafford, which is impressive in itself. It has a capacity of something near 76,000 spectators--it is massive. I mentioned the pilgrimmage to Old Trafford beforehand, and it is an accurate description. What with 76,000 people making their way to the same destination, the effect is accurately compared to some long journey to some sacred place as an act of religious devotion.

An example of how football in England is comparable to religion:

In Scotland, there are two main football clubs: the Rangers and Celtic. Both are historically supported by Protestants and Catholics, respectively.

Another football-religion example: the permenant MSN name of my friend is "MUFC - THE RELIGION." Do you think he supports the Manchester United Football Club as defiantly as he does his catholic religion? I'll tell you, if his enthusiastic participation in United chants at the match, in all their riddled-with-not-so-inconspicuous-versions-of-the-word-shit glory, the answer might be yes, and then some.

We set out from Castle Irwell, about fifty minute's walking distance. But once you're within twenty minutes of OldTrafford, the traffic that was heavily moving in one direction is then almost at a crawl, and you're joined with ranks of more and more fans--mostly decked in some form of United garb and not uncommonly in possession of a can of beer.

But before I go any further, I have to stomp on the angry-mob-of-maniacal-murdering football fans image I'm sure my can of beer statement just conjured. It was entirely civil--or perhaps I've been living in England for four months and I just didn't notice the brawls breaking out overhead or the punches being thrown to my right. Granted, you won't see thousands of fans congregating for hours before a sporting match to "rally" and consume beer in Canada, at least not on a regular basis (Stanley Cup finals exempt), but I was perfectly safe at all times. And I will dare say, disappointed at the lack of frightening football-fan mêlée.

But it wasn't a sleeper either. Benfica scored the opening goal, which put United fans even further off the edges of their seats. The home squad looked jittery off the bat and there were pensive "I know what you're thinking because I'm thinking it but don't you dare say it" looks on everyone's faces that a Portuguese club would oust the all-mighty United from the Champions League in a repeat of last year's apparently shocking and bitter defeat.

However, as always, United came through once they found their groove, obviously dominating the other team offensively. I was surprisingly close to the pitch, probably within 50 yards and just to the right of the net, and so I was close enough to take in all sorts of interesting details I wasn't expecting:

- the field is, believe this or not, just the size of a regular soccer field, exactly like the ones I've been playing on all my life (the same ones I think I'm going to die on if I have to run another length), but the same size nonetheless.

- unlike hockey fans that hold up caught pucks like gold at the end of a rainbow, football fans dutifully throw wild balls escaped into the stands back to the pitch.

- Ronaldo's footwork really is that impressive.

- Wayne Rooney's backside is larger than you would think a professional athlete of any sort should ever have, exempting sumo wrestlers. I guess he's as much a fan of the UK's Galaxy chocolate as I've become...

Other noteworthy observations from the match:

- the level of sound 76,000 fans can make, without interruption.
- the variation of chants in the United fans' repertoire--well exceeding "ole, ole ole ole!"
- the number of curse words in the United fans' repertoire, and that they are mostly nasty versions of nursery rhymes or children's songs, or similar to such
- there isn't an endless progression of mascots, vendors, volunteers, charity and/or organization and/or company representatives plying free t-shirts or chances to win $10,ooo or dream vacations during half time. The players walk off the feild; maintenance fixes divots in the feild; players walk on the feild. And there is a welcome absence from anyone on a loudspeaker.

In general, there is a lot less "official-ese" about a football match than there is a hockey game. For example, there wasn't an exchange of anthems at the beginning, only about 20 seconds of the chorus of the UEFA Champions League Anthem--technically, it's actually a hymn.

You know you're in England when hymns are preludes to sporting events.

- the spectators are mostly men, which leads me to assume that going to the football match isn't as commonly thought of as a nice date activity or night out for a couple the way catching the hockey game is in Canada.

Afterwards, everyone (civilly) filed out--but I attribute much of the civilty to the fact that United won and there were only about several hundred Benfica fans present and all relegated to one corner in the very attic of the stadium.

At the end of the day, the live version far outdid any professional football match I've seen on tv. Despite this very obvious observation: live, the game is far more real and alive. And 76,000 fans might help.

I have never wanted to play soccer and realized how limited my soccer ability is to such an extent and at exactly the same time as I did on Wednesday. But I suppose that's what they pay professional athletes/our heroes the big money for--something to idolize and aspire to be at the same time.