My Irish husband Tony and I have recently moved to Birmingham, UK and I am writing a weekly blog explaining Europe to my fellow Americans. In honour of George Best, here is the entry about our visit to Old Trafford. You can find the others at gypsyteacher.blogspot.com.

When I first met Tony and explained to him about growing up as a Steeler fan in Pittsburgh, PA, he understood perfectly. He grew up as a Manchester United fan in Dublin, Ireland. But Pittsburghers will never understand how you can root for a team from a different city.

He learned to love Pittsburgh — and the Steelers — and I learned the lore of Man United.

A few months ago, an American friend was attending a conference in Manchester and that was a good enough excuse for us to visit. We took the train from Birmingham, had lunch in Chinatown with our friend and then waved him goodbye. We figured out how to take the Metrolink to Old Trafford, although it involved going to the Harbour City stop and then walking over to Old Trafford, near the Old Trafford stop. The Metrolink information office was helpful, but I think we should have had a better map.

In lovely autumn weather, we followed the canals and the street signs to Old Trafford and took pictures of Tony in front of the stadium's marquee, to complement the photos of him in front of Three Rivers Stadium.

That would have been enough of a thrill. But then we saw a banner announcing the Museum and Tour. I said, 'Let's see if we can get in.' He didn't need more encouragement. Nine pounds each and the next tour starts in 45 minutes. Perfect.

We hung out in the Red Bar for a bit, while old games ran (loudly) on the flat-screen TVs. Another couple, who sounded American, were taking pictures as well. It was like being in a parallel universe, watching my brother and his wife visiting Steeler headquarters.

After collecting our Man United lapel pins, we started through the museum. A whole room was devoted to the plane crash in 1958 which killed so many players, sport journalists and staff on board. Another room was a temporary exhibit to honour the recent English cricket victory over Australia in the Ashes. High tide raises all boats.

Tony walked through it all with his mouth wide open, recognizing every face in every close-up. Sir Matt Busby, greatest manager ever. Wayne Rooney, greatest screw-up ever. George Best, greatest player ever. He was still alive when we were there. Do they have a separate exhibit room for him now?

We strolled through all three floors and then congregated at the bottom of the stairs with the others signed up for the tour. Tony had told me that Man United had just spent millions of pounds to sign a pretty good — but not great — Chinese player, mostly to increase t-shirt sales in China. It worked: four of the ten people on the tour were Chinese.

Our guide, Ian, had worked at the stadium for over 20 years in various capacities. First stop was the comfy padded expensive seats that we'll never be able to afford. Ian explained that the edge of the pitch nearest us was used to scatter ashes of obviously devoted fans. Apparently we had just passed the most recent grieving family on our way in; it's not uncommon.

Ian took us through the board dining room and down to the seats from which the directors watch the game. Tony asked the question in my mind: 'Where do the Glazers sit?' Ian pointed to the middle seats, and assured us that the Glazers are warmly greeted by all seated nearby. The sons had come to see every game, as they had promised when Dad became majority owner. 'Only a few of those outside complain', said Ian. He knows where his bread is buttered.

Like most long-time fans, Tony's not happy about this recent takeover. When the BBC was interviewing Tampa Buccaneer fans about Glazer's affect on that team, one woman said, 'He really helped the Bucs here. I'm sure he could do that for their team over there.' Help them? Man United is the number-one sports brand on the planet! That's why he bought them!

Ian took us into the players' bar, only for family members and only after the game. I sat my American butt down on a padded chair once warmed by Mrs Beckham. When we entered the dressing room, with life-sized head photos of each team member on the peg he uses, a gasp went up from the tour group. I convinced Tony to pose with his arm around manager Sir Alex Ferguson so we can email the picture to his son.

The tour ended in the tunnel that both teams walk through to the pitch. Ian flipped a switch and a recording of crowd noises from game day erupted. We all gleefully ran down towards the field, stopped by the stanchions designed to keep us amateurs out. What a rush.

Finally, Ian took a picture of Tony and me in front of the stands — he does this a lot — and pointed us towards the Old Trafford stop of the Metrolink. About five blocks away, it's named after the Old Trafford cricket grounds next to it. Now we'll know how to get there when we come for a game. Once I had a low-level job working on some National Football League TV shoots at Steeler headquarters and then-quarterback Mark Malone walked into the room wearing tight shorts. He wasn't much of a quarterback, but he sure looked great in those shorts. I imagine that's how Tony felt throughout our day at Old Trafford.

The Explaining ... to Americans Archive

KDixonDonnelly

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