Chapter 909 - 909: Not Red Anymore I

"OHHHHHHHHH."

The whole ground came up off its seats and stayed up, and it had started to rain on all of them. Nick Pope got up off the grass shaking his glove out and shouting at his wall. Chilwell had his hands on his knees.

"UNITED. UNITED. UNITED."

3 long beats off the Stretford End, and the Sir Alex Ferguson Stand threw it back, and the Stretford End threw it back again. Pogba got the ball on halfway and the South Stand behind me leaned forward with a noise like a door being shoved.

Juan Mata came inside off the right. Ashley Young went round the outside of him, and Chilwell went with Young, and Mata slid the ball into the gap Chilwell had left without looking at it.

Lukaku hit it first time with his left before Pope had his feet set, low across the wet grass, and in off the far post. Shhk.

1-0.

The concrete under my feet shook.

Lukaku ran to the Stretford End and stood in front of it with his arms wide and his face up in the rain.

"LU-KA-KU. LU-KA-KU."

Then, while he was still stood there, the whole ground turned round to me.

"YOU'RE NOT RED ANYMORE. YOU'RE NOT RED ANYMORE."

It started right behind my box. A man with a smoker's cough. A woman a beat behind everybody. A lad who did not know the words and shouted RED every time it came round. Then the East Stand had it, and the Stretford End, and it went round the ground twice.

The man in the black coat by the tunnel was on his feet with his hands round his mouth.

"JUDAS."

I did not move. Bray was at the front of the box with his arm out, shouting at Chilwell to get tighter.

Under all of it, from the away corner, thin and stubborn: "WE ARE PALACE. WE ARE..." and then the ground rolled over the top of them.

Rúben Neves came to the touchline for the restart.

"30 touches, boss. Nobody comes. What do you want?"

I pointed. Matić, 5 yards in front of his centre halves, sat on Benteke's shoulder, and in front of Matić a square of green nobody was stood on.

Neves looked at it for a long second.

"From there?"

"From there."

"And if I miss?"

"Then you take another one."

He missed the first by 4 feet. It came back off the top of the advertising boards, bonk, and the Stretford End laughed at him, a big rolling laugh from the whole end, and then whistled every touch he had for 5 minutes. The man in the black coat laughed loudest and pointed at him.

5 minutes before half time Neves hit the second one. Fwump. It started a yard outside the post and came back in the air, and De Gea scrambled across his line with his feet going everywhere and pushed it round.

"OOOOOH."

The man in the black coat sat down.

PRRRP.

They booed us off, every one of us. The South Stand stood as we went past and leaned over the tunnel and gave it to each of my players by name, and kept the last and loudest for me. A steward in a yellow coat walked backwards in front of me all the way down the steps with his arms out.

"Keep walking, Mr Walsh," he said. "Do not look up. Please do not look up."

Bang. The dressing room door off the wall.

"Andros." Townsend looked up with his shirt half off. "When Rúben has it, run inside Matić's shoulder. You do not need the ball. Just go and stand there."

"And if he stays with Rúben?"

"Then you are free."

[ASHLEY YOUNG. CONDITION 58%.]

"Wilf. First 10 minutes, everything goes down your side."

Zaha nodded.

"He goes like a train for an hour," he said. "Then he stops. I trained with him here."

Pierre-Emile Højbjerg took the towel off his head.

"Pogba is going to put me on the floor again. You say walk away." He shrugged. "Walking away is not a job, boss. Give me a job."

"Pick him up," I said. "Every time he puts you down, you get up first, you put your hand out, and you pick Paul Pogba up off the grass. Then go and stand somewhere else."

When we came back out the Stretford End was singing United Road, slow, arms up, the whole end swaying in the rain, and they held the last word so long that Michael Dean stood over the ball and waited for them to finish.

PRRRP.

40 seconds in, Townsend ran inside Matić's shoulder, and Matić went with him.

Neves stepped into the grass Matić had left and hit it 50 yards down the left for Zaha, and Ashley Young turned to chase.

The Stretford End stopped singing in the middle of a word.

Zaha went past Young on the outside, cut it back inside and went past him again, and put it low and hard across the 6 yard box with his left foot.

Smalling got a toe to it and it sat up. Benteke got there with Lindelöf on his back and put his forehead through it, into the turf, and it bounced up into the roof of the net.

Thock.

1-1.

For half a second Old Trafford made no sound at all, and in that half second there was only the away corner, 1 scream going straight up into the roof.

Then the whistles came from every side, and the away corner sang Glad All Over through them as loud as they sing it at Selhurst.

Bray had both fists in the air at the front of the box.

"That is the train stopping!" He was shouting it at Zaha across 40 yards of grass. "That is the train, Wilf!"

Benteke ran to that corner with his hand on the badge and went down on his knees in front of them.

"9 YEARS!" He was screaming it at them. "9 YEARS!"

"ATTACK. ATTACK. ATTACK."

It came off all 4 stands at once, and United came at us.

Pogba put Højbjerg on the floor by the touchline, late, the man and not the ball, and the whole ground roared and leaned forward.

Højbjerg was up before the whistle. He put his hand out, took Paul Pogba by the wrist, pulled him up off the grass, and walked away.

The boo went up and wobbled. A few rows behind our bench somebody laughed, and then a few more, and it broke up into single voices shouting at Pogba to get on with it. Pogba stood there a second, then laughed too and jogged back.

5 minutes later Lukaku turned Sakho on halfway, and Sakho went through the back of him.

Prrp.

Michael Dean had the yellow out before Sakho was up. Sakho pulled Lukaku off the grass, put his hands behind his back, and took it without a word.

He came past my box on the way back.

"My legs," he said. "Not my head, boss. My legs."

"I know."

***

Thank you to Sir nameyelus for the support.