My Big Day Out

I have had an affinity with Manchester United ever since I was young. David Beckham’s goal from the half way line in 1996 saw to that. A year later when he got sent off in the World Cup, I cried. My mum sat on my bed that night and assured me he’d be alright in the long run. I guess she was right. It was only when Derby were struggling in the Championship in the early 2000’s that I decided to support my local team. What a fantastic decision, because at this rate we’ll be passing them next season.

I’ve never prescribed to this view of hating Manchester United. I always want them to win the Premier League and Champions League, even though I am not what you’d call a supporter. So when the chance arose to attend a Man Utd press conference courtesy of one of their sponsors, I jumped at it (actually, that’s a lie - I deliberated for 3 days whether it was worth losing a full day’s work over it, and in the end I decided it was). I was going to Old Trafford to ask some of the best players in the world some questions!!!  It didn’t really turn out like that though.

I had to kill time on my arrival so I walked around the Megastore which was frequented by a rather large number of Chinese people. Proof if needed that this is one of the biggest clubs in the world. Replica shirts donned the walls. A shirt with all the official badges and Van Persie 20 on the back cost a mouth watering £75. Football has gone to the dogs. Back in my day, when I was a lad, it cost 75p per letter and £1.50 per number. For that reason I rarely ventured further than (Mart) Poom 1.Interestingly, Poom was number 21, but even at that age I knew I was pretty tight with money, so that was £1.50 saved.

I arrived in the suite where I was told to meet, walked through a door and was greeted by a spectacular view of the pitch and stadium. This was base for the next 4 hours. For the first part of the day I was introduced to various people as a “competition winner”. Competition winner? It made me sound like I’d coloured in a pretty picture and been asked to turn up to Old Trafford to collect my prize. I’d turned down good pay and a shift as an actual journalist to be branded a competition winner. “This is Jonathan, he correctly identified that David De Gea’s playing position is a goalkeeper! Who’s a clever boy!?” After a while I found the heart to declare I hadn’t actually won a competition, and was there in fact, as a blogger.

This wasn’t a real press conference. I was there with two season ticket holders who legitimately won a competition – fair play to them - and one other blogger.  A week before the visit I was asked to submit a few questions to the players. They would have to be approved by the club. There was no room for adding extra questions on the day. God forbid we go off script and ask about something else.

Anders Lindegaard, Johnny Evans, Sam Johnstone, Phil Jones and Chris Smalling all turned up at different times in their full kit, complete with gloves and boots. I know what you’re thinking... He’s a goalkeeper.

 They were doing a photo shoot as well as well as this mock conference. Anders walked in first and shook us all by the hand and answered our cutting edge questions: “What’s your favourite celebration/Who do you think is the best player United have had in the last 20 years/Do you prefer cats or dogs?” The last one is a joke, but the whole scripted nature of it left a sour taste. This is not how press conferences work. Trust me, I know, i’ve been to at least 6 (maybe 7).

I asked Chris Smalling which sport he’d be a professional in if it wasn’t football. He replied with tennis. That should have been it.; there was no scripted question after that. Wrap up, Jonno!!! I don’t know what came over me though and I did something utterly outrageous which I still wake up in cold sweats about to this very day. I asked an unscripted question. “Who’s your favourite tennis player then Chris?”. Jaws hit the floor. Eyes were burning through me. I’d just rebelled! Bloody journalists. Ps. Roger Federer.

I am taking nothing away from the players. They were all very friendly and happy to pose for photos (that also doesn’t happen at proper press conferences “Excuse me David Moyes, after i’ve asked you this question, how about a photo for my Facebook profile pic?”). Footballers get a bad reputation, but these 5 came across extremely well. They didn’t act as if it was a burden to speak to these competition winners (and me) and they all went up in my estimation.

When i’m in certain situations, my style of questioning takes an unusual route. I tend to focus on negatives. I wanted to know who the chaps think will win the World Cup. I could have just asked them that, but for some reason I said: “Sorry to rub this in lads (Anders and Johnny) but you aren’t going to the World Cup. That said, who do you think will win it?”. They didn’t laugh at this unique style, but likewise I didn’t get thrown out of the stadium.

We waited to see if Nemanja Vidic would come in for a few minutes because he was in a suite further down entertaining some other sponsors. He didn’t come in though, and i’m grateful for it really because I don’t think he’d appreciate my style of questioning. The day was over. I left and made my way for a tram. I was stood opposite a very young chav wearing a full Adidas tracksuit and holding a plastic bag. In it were several packs of fizzy Chewitts. Give it a few years and the Chewitts will turn to knives.

The article I was supposed to write about the day for the blogging site I was representing had to be sent off for Manchester United to approve. No, really. Apparently, they didn’t want any further bad press considering their on the field problems this year. This article hasn’t been sent to Manchester United for their approval, because frankly, it wouldn’t get it. I’d be the most wanted man since Edward Snowden if they read this. With that in mind, i’m off to gain asylum in Ecuador...