Deadpoet’s Cave

Many people scoff my support of Manchester United.

I am not sure what drew me to them. Back in the days of Big League Football on Sunday afternoons - I still remember the theme song - there was only one team that caught my attention.

In the early 80s, the Division One title constantly switched hands across the city of Liverpool. Neither Liverpool nor Everton excited me. It was a team of nearly men, led by a captain - Bryan Robson - who played games like there was no tomorrow, that fascinated me:

Manchester United.

I am also not sure when I first heard of the Munich air crash.

It struck me deeply that a group of young men, a group of supremely talented footballers on the cusp of greatness, perished so suddenly in such a tragic manner. Among those who passed on was a young man who arguably would have become the greatest player of all time.

Therein lies the United mystique. If United never came back from that accident, no one would have faulted the people at the club. The accident might have become a footnote in history. But out of adversity, a steely resolve rose. Out of tragedy, triumph.

May the souls of those who died on that fateful day rest in peace.

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