Liverpool enter the Theatre of Dreams and nightmares

If they want to know what it feels like to finally bring a protracted title drought to an end, Liverpool are going to the right place tomorrow. Not that their hosts will be in any mood to share the memories of such good vibes, of course. Or, even more to the point, want the visitors to get to experience that feeling for themselves.

Your correspondent was in the press box in Old Trafford on the night of the 1993 May Bank Holiday when Manchester United — or, more precisely, skipper Steve Bruce and club captain Bryan Robson — got to lift the First Division/Premier League trophy for the first time in 26 years.

Oldham Athletic had already done the neighbourly thing by inflicting on Aston Villa the defeat that made United champions but, for the homecoming and coronation, Alex Ferguson’s team were determined to put on a show for a rapturous full house. And, after a Kevin Gallagher goal for Blackburn Rovers had briefly threatened to spoil the party, that’s exactly what they did, swaggering to a 3-1 win through goals from Ryan Giggs, with a fabulous free kick, Paul Ince and, with a first of the season to bring the night’s entertainment to a suitably fairytale end, Gary Pallister.

It was all perfectly in keeping with the prevailing mood of joy and deliverance which had been building up long before kick-off. Crowds massed early outside the ground, from the gleeful mocking of Villa boss Ron Atkinson (“Are you watching Big Fat Ron?”) to the conga-line of jovially beered-up supporters who I watched trailing the BBC’s Des Lynam across the heaving car park, burning his ears red by singing “Dishy Des, Dishy Des, Dishy Des” to the tune of ‘Here We Go’.

Incidentally, for Koppites who rightly love to serenade Mo Salah, it might be of interest to note that, on that long ago night, the second favourite anthem of the faithful inside Old Trafford was a people’s choir rendition of ‘Sit Down’ by local heroes James. The favourite? A ferociously lusty ‘Who’s the champions, now, scum’, with no prizes for guessing in which direction that little ditty — for the record, bellowed out to the tune of, um, ‘Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Sport’ — was aimed.

It was a night too when Kevin Moran was back on familiar turf but in an unfamiliar shirt. Still, the jubilant locals were only too happy to afford the old boy a generous ovation when he was forced to leave the fray with a hamstring problem.

“I must admit I was very moved,” he told me later. “It was a hell of an ovation for an away player. Not to get a ‘reject’ chant is relief enough, but to get the total opposite was fantastic.” And while, during his time on the pitch, Moran had given nothing less than his usual 100% for his Blackburn Rovers team, when it was all over he couldn’t hide his delight that United had finally claimed the elusive prize.

“I was especially delighted for the supporters,” he said. “They’ve had to endure a lot and they’ve waited a long, long time for this. It was an incredible night.”

The Dubliner also admitted to an abiding feeling of personal disappointment that he had been unable to help United end the title famine during in his time with the club.

“There were a few close ones,” he observed.

In fact, I think we would have done it except that there was a team of the calibre of Liverpool about in the 80s. They were an incredible side.

Which is where history catches up with the present, albeit with roles reversed. Having fulfilled Alex Ferguson’s ambition of knocking Liverpool “right off their fucking perch”, United proceeded to lord it over their arch-rivals by winning another 12 titles while the Premier League cupboard at Anfield remained stubbornly bare. And whereas United had to wait 26 years for that first title since 1967, the drought on Merseyside has already lasted three years longer.

All of which explains why, beyond its inherent fascination as a game of football, tomorrow’s clash at Old Trafford has so much resonance for both clubs. For United, still coming to grips with a post-Fergie world, the stakes are high enough, with a place in next year’s Champions League and Ole Gunnar Solskjaer’s future as manager still up for grabs. But the stakes could hardly be higher for Liverpool for whom the quest for the Holy Grail is turning every league game, but especially this one, into something like a cup final.

United have certainly regained a sense of poise and purpose since the departure of Mourinho but, as PSG demonstrated in the Champions League, they are still a work in progress with a long way to go and significant changes to be made before they can aspire to be talked about in the same breath as Ferguson’s greatest championship-winning sides.

Liverpool are much further down that road, even if this season there have been signs that the roaring amplifier designed by Jurgen Klopp has been turned down from 11 to 10, a bit less heavy metal and more hard rock. At their best, they are clearly a more potent and exciting side than United, but some recent wobbles in the league, and even their underwhelming performance in this week’s scoreless draw at home to Bayern Munich, have suggested that the closer they get to the season’s finish line, the more that anxiety and self-doubt is creeping in. Which is why tomorrow’s game, in what should be a resoundingly hostile environment, could prove to be a test of nerve for the visitors as much as anything else.

United can’t win the league, but the second-best thing from their point of view would be to help stop Liverpool winning it. Even if that means they have to put up with those noisy neighbours at the Etihad claiming local bragging rights once again. (Unless, mad thought, Spurs somehow end up splitting the vote).

With Matt Busby himself in attendance, Old Trafford more than lived up to its billing as the great man’s Theatre of Dreams on that memorable night when they finally brought home the glittering prize. Similar glory is beyond United this time, but if they can turn the place into a Theatre of Nightmares for Liverpool tomorrow, rest assured, they’ll almost party like it’s 1993.