the crazy last few seconds, can it be comprehended? How,
when every certainty is overturned, every paragraph about
German superiority made suddenly redundant, can you quantify
the incredible drama that sport alone can throw up?
The bald facts are these: Last night Manchester United last
night became the first English side in history to win the
treble, beating Bayern Munich 2-1 in Barcelona to win the
European Champions' League. But the manner of their victory
was such that no one, not their manager Alex Ferguson, nor
the thousands of delirious English supporters, not even the
scriptwriters of Roy of the Rovers would dare to suggest.
With the stadium clock showing 90 minutes, United scored not
once but twice to wipe out an early goal scored by Bayern
Munich and take home the European Cup, the largest piece of
silverware in world football.
For most of the match they had been behind after Bayern
scored from a free-kick and outclassed United, hitting the
woodwork twice.
It was not until injury time that substitute Teddy
Sheringham scored the equaliser after a scramble following a
corner.
Another corner led to the winner from Ole Gunnar Solskjaer,
with virtually the last kick of the match.
United manager Alex Ferguson said: "We never gave in. It's
fantastic. I'm so proud of my players."
It was an astonishing setting to host the astonishing climax
to an astonishing season. Barcelona's Nou Camp, its stand
steepling up into the gloaming, oozed the kind of atmosphere
that can reduce the most resolute of spines to jelly. And
that was before the kick-off.
History was in the air all right: Bayern Munich and
Manchester United were both striving to become the first
football club from their countries to win the treble of
domestic league and cup and the senior European trophy.
But to walk through Barcelona before the game was to assume
only one team was in it. All day the city had been turned
into a suburb of Manchester. Tens of thousands of English
fans had descended on the place, many without tickets, just
wanting to be there, to marinade in the sun and beer, to be
close to history.
Everywhere in the Spanish city, Bayern Munich were
outnumbered, out-sung, out-enthused by their English
counterparts. Except, that is, on the pitch. There it was
the German players who made the first claim for history,
Mario Basler scoring with a free kick in the fifth minute.
Despite the setback, United, being the team they are, never
stopped trying: David Beckham's long legs galloped through
the mid field, Ryan Giggs jinked and dashed, Andy Cole gave
his all.
But German football teams are made of sterner stuff than the
sides United are used to playing in England. Bayern's steel
grey shirts seemed to reflect their determination. Until
that is Ferguson sent on Teddy Sheringham and Ole Gunnar
Solskjaer to provide the climax no one could believe.
So where does this leave United? Ferguson has always
believed that a club's standing is measured solely by the
accumulation of trophies.
By that measure, his team found a unique place in Catalonia.
But those who have been priveleged to see Ferguson's side
this season, who witnessed their European triumphs in Italy,
believe they have ben watching the greatest English team
ever. Perhaps not the greatest individual players, but a
group of men enthused with a spirit that lifts them beyond
the ordinary, a team infected by their manager with a drive
which will never say die.
And there is something else about them too. Back in 1968,
when United last won the European Cup, it was the
culmination of their manager Matt Busby's dream, it was
about exorcising the ghosts of a team that died in the
pursuit of the trophy, about completing a task curtailed 10
years previously at Munich airport. They all went home after
that triumph sensing it was over, the job done.
But for their successors this victory is just the start.
Ferguson has not strived for over a decade to stop here. So
for poor Colin Shindler, who had a bestseller telling the
world that Manchester United ruined his life, there is more
misery to come. For the thousands who loathe United, the
future will consist of nothing but standing up and hating
Man U.
While he will have loved riding round the Nou Camp on the
shoulders of his players, next season it will be back to the
old routine for Ferguson.