Monday, 25 January 2016

Saturday night's alright for fighting

Friday, Gel and I went to an afternoon screening of The Big Short. The story of how some investors in the US realised the property market was just about to fall into an abyss, and went about trying to benefit from it (while at the same time realising what the impact on real people would be). To 'short' something is to bet that it will fall in value rather than rise. Great performances, good witty and informative script, terrible indictment of Wall Street.

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I found myself completely free on Saturday, so had a think about how I would spend my time.....photographically speaking, of course.

I had to pick up a parcel from near Handforth, so had an idea I'd simply press on from there and take some street shots in Stockport. But then Gel had the most fantastic suggestion. Why not faff around outside Old Trafford before their home game versus Southampton.

I first went to Old Trafford in 1972 or 73, I don't remember precisely. I do, however, have a very strong memory of walking up the concrete steps inside K stand (the Scoreboard End) and seeing this vibrant green sward, and huge stadium, opening up before my eyes. It was sunny and the grass was very green, so I guess that it must have been at the start of the 1972, or 1973 season. I do remember - a different occasion, another early attendance at OT - which was the last game that Bobby Charlton played at Old Trafford (Wikipedia tells me that was 28th April 1973). What I can't fix is whether the "sward" game was before or after it.

The 1974-75 season was the one they spent in the old 2nd Division, and the one that we started to go regularly to games. Over the next 30 years I went to almost all home games, so I was pretty familiar with the stadium and how to get there. But what we never did was wander around taking in the atmos. With the exception of some of the early games where we went in as the  turnstiles opened, we generally went there and back home in the most efficient way possible. No time faffing round the outside. So Saturday was in some ways familiar, and yet a little new.

The ground and surrounding area has changed significantly since my first visit. Larger capacity, no standing areas any more, more open spaces around the ground (with opportunities to sell food and souvenirs). I guess when I first started going there the Old Trafford area still had quite a bit of business still being undertaken. The Munich memorial has been moved from near the directors entrance, to the front of the ground.



I'm jumping ahead....to get to the ground I parked up in Stretford and took the tram one stop to Old Trafford (home of LCCC).



Now when I was a lad, the station outside OT (LCCC) was called Warwick Road, and you walked along Warwick Road to get to OT (MUFC).  We even sang a song that ended "Walking down the Warwick Road......to see Matt Busby's aces". Now the tram stop is called Old Trafford, and to get to the footy ground you walk along Brian Statham Way, Warwick Road AND Sir Matt Busby Way. All the same road.



So I wandered along towards the ground taking  few shots of the unofficial souvenir sellers along the route.




On arriving at the ground, I then circled it a few times looking for interesting shots, and struggled mightily. Settling, mostly on pictures of the many many unofficial souvenir sellers.





Why would you by a scarf with your opponents name on it? 

I knew that the area that once had the entrance to the Stretford Paddock (where I stood for a few seasons) is where the players entrance now is, so I thought I might hang about to see what's what. When I first went there the crowds were thin and the stewards told me that the team coaches would be arriving in an hour and a half. I wasn't prepared to stand that long on the off chance of a shot so I ambled round a bit more. By the time I came back the crown had swelled reducing my chances of a shot to zero, given that the coaches drew right up to the stand and the players dash straight in.


I did know that once the team coaches have dropped off their load, then you do get the occasional injured player wandering past, so I came back after the coaches and the barriers had been moved in. In the 20 minutes I was there only Michael Carrick came by.

Bit of a crap shot.


I had a chat with a photographer with MUTV at the front of the ground (a West Ham fan) and decided to call it a day, and headed back towards the tram



On my way back up Sir Matt Busby way, a Southampton fan cheerily greeted a policewoman who formed part of the cordon as you approach Old Trafford:

Him: "Aye up love, you ok?"
Her: "Yes thank. You?"
Him: "Just come for three points"

And I thought, "Oh yeah. Suuuuuure." You'd have thought I'd know better by now. Another dull performance, and this time not even a point to show for it.

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After a poor afternoon, from both a photographic and football perspective, I cheered myself up by watching a film about a load of people dying (or losing fingers and toes) on Mt Everest (Everest, Jason Clarke and Jake Gyllenhall) . It was quite good.

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Sunday was another quiet day. We had bought a splendid crackling covered pork joint from Costco as Caitlin and Andy were coming over. I wanted to have a proper go at making proper crunchy crackling. It worked beautifully, and added to the "Jamie Roast Potatoes" method for doing the spuds, made for a fine repast....though I say it myself.

Pheebs was out shooting her latest video with her friends in Manchester, so keep an eye out for that when it hits the streets.



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