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The Dennis Viollet Fund

www.red11.org DAILY NEWS
Date: Mon Jun 07 03:02:23 EDT 1999
Mail: barry@www.red11.org

This Issue:
1. Bosnich - What really happened
3. Barcelona by P.H.
4. Barcelona by P.H. - a bit I forgot to write!
5. Barcelona by Sean Hennessey (Part 1)


*        WE'VE DONE THE TREBLE !!!!!!!!      *
*                                            *
*       1999 PREMIER LEAGUE CHAMPIONS        *
*                     &                      *
*         1999 F.A. CUP CHAMPIONS            *
*                     &                      *
*         1999 EUROPEAN CUP WINNERS          *

************* ALL 1999 EC FINAL PICS ***************



*************** ALL 1999 FA CUP PICS ***************



www.red11.org CHAMPIONSHIP Sound Archive x 5  ENJOY!!!!

SPECIAL SPECIAL SPECIAL  Mp3  "REDS Going to Barcelona"  3megs 
Download here: 
 + Players thoughts before the cup final: 134k   2mins

Latest on Bosnich + Goals available also

THANKS to Derek here are the real audios running at http://www.red11.org

If anyone has other Barcelona commentary versions esp GMR or Picc
please mail them to barrylee@post3.tele.dk & I will make them available on the web.
Other TV stations also welcome.

http://www.red11.org/mufc/sound/99/990601_bosnich.rm   1m 10s  76k  
  Latest On Bosnich

http://www.red11.org/mufc/sound/99/petervbosnich.rm    1m 39s  108k     
  Comparison of Peter v Bosnich

(Real audio files archived at http://www.red11.org/mufc/sound/99)

Listen to the European Cup final GOALS!
Radio 5 live:
 http://www.red11.org/mufc/sound/99/sheringham_cl99.rm  26k
  http://www.red11.org/mufc/sound/99/solskjaer_cl99.rm  39k

Danish TV!
 http://www.red11.org/mufc/sound/99/solskjaer_dk.rm    108k 
  http://www.red11.org/mufc/sound/99/sheringham_dk.rm   76k

Ask the MasterFan:


CONGRATS to REDS ALL over the world.

Subject: Bosnich - What really happened Most of you by now know my, er, contacts within the, er, entertainment industry. This story comes from somebody I know VERY well, who has WORKED WITH the guy on the door at Legs Eleven in Birmingham for several years:- Mark Bosnich was out with some his mates, and somehow got separated from them. He showed up at the door of Legs Eleven - a lap dancing bar in Brum, and got talking to the doorman (who he knows - Bosnich and our Dwight are frequenters of this establishment) said he was looking for his mates, and asked him if they were in - as it was a likely spot for them to be. The answer was no, and they (Bosnich and the doorman) started talking about where else they might be and where would be the best place to look first. As this was going on, some reptile newspaper photographer pops up and starts taking photograph after photograph after photograph - presumably to fuel some sleaze story. But remember, Bosnich hadn't even gone into the club, he was standing outside and wasn't intending to go in (he was going to look for his mates). Eventually, Bosnich got pissed off with the little hack and took his camera off him, removed the film, and walked off with it. The filthy little hack, obviously from his trade a paragon of virtue, took exception to this and called the police. Bosnich was arrested for THEFT OF A ROLL OF CAMERA FILM. Apologies if you've already read this in a newspaper, but the above is an actual account of what happened. How low can the press sink? Jon.
CONGRATS to REDS ALL over the world.

Subject: UNITED ADMIT FA CUP IS LOW PRIORITY Two weeks after clinching the Double at Wembley, Manchester United claim they will have to downgrade the FA Cup as the least important of their priorities next season. The oldest and most famous club tournament in the world will find itself the victim of United's success as the Treble winners stride into the next century. Such is the pressures on United's financial and playing resources, that chairman Martin Edwards is already talking about treating the FA Cup in the same way as the League Cup has been downgraded by them for several seasons. So when United find themselves playing in an enlarged Champions League next season with group matches spilling over into the New Year, unlike this season, it's the FA Cup that will find itself relegated in importance by the Old Trafford giants. United have used youth and reserve players for years in the League Cup - now the same thing will happen to the FA Cup. Edwards said: ''I have always said that something will have to give. The European Cup and the League are both major competitions and probably more important than the FA Cup. So if something has to give from those competitions, it will probably be the FA Cup.'' United have confirmed that they will play in the European Super Cup against Lazio in August, and against the South American club champions in the World Club Final in Japan in November. But they are unlikely to be involved in a three-week world club competition in Brazil after Christmas. United played more than 60 games in their triumphant Treble-winning season and Edwards expects that total to rise to well over 70 next term. He added: ''What you will find that with teams still involved in the European Cup when the FA Cup starts will have to make more use of their squads and leave their first choice players out of the FA Cup. That will be a fact of life.'' And United's boardroom chief is already sounding a warning that it may be impossible for United to match their Treble success and defend all three trophies because of the growing demands on their players. He said: ''As far as the size of our squad is concerned, there are always worries about whether it will be big enough to handle all the demands of next season. ''It will be difficult to win the Champions League and to defend the title - just those two competitions alone is 55 games. Then if you add in things like Super Cups and World Club championships plus two domestic cups as well, it's going to be tough. We played 62 games this year and I can see it going well over 70 games next season. That's a hell of a task for anybody to start talking about producing trebles again. It is going to be much harder, but we always knew that.''
CONGRATS to REDS ALL over the world.

Subject: Barcelona by P.H. From: Peter Hargreaves Barcelona On the way home to me mum's from the airport early on Thursday morning we (eventually) found a newspaper shop which was open (I thought those buggers never went to bed!). So with a cup of me mam's elixir I sat down at the dining room table to make sure that I really wasn't dreaming! The thing which disappointed me was that nearly all the seagulls reported that we had been very much second best and had been 'totally outplayed'. This just did not accord with how I remembered the unbelievable events of Wednesday the 26th of May 1999. The following day I was able to watch the match and my original thoughts were confirmed. In no areas of the game were we outplayed. Using any parameter, any meter, you wish to invoke we were the superior team. They scored from a free-kick which wasn't. I have always relied upon my knee-jerk reaction to any event as being the best and when that big, ugly, hun went down on the edge of the box I immediately shouted "DIVE"! I was sure then, and I'm convinced now, that he conned the referee into giving a free-kick. However once given it was up to our defence to put together a decent 'wall' and they totally failed to do so. Goal down! But after that (apart, that is, from the last twenty minutes when we stretched ourselves looking for the equaliser) they played nothing more than ale-house football to the big, ugly, hun (if that bloke had come out with a spiked helmet he would not have looked out of place - that may not be politically correct, but, bollocks, both my dad and grandad fought the sods and I grew up amongst the devastation that they had wrought upon my beloved Manchester - so sod political correctness!!!). I had decided to stay over at me mum and dad's on Tuesday night as this meant I would not disturb Cathy early doors Wednesday and would have an extra hour in bed meself (was I glad for that extra hour by four o'clock Thursday morning!). It was a bit like old times when I got to me mam's as she had sorted me old bedroom out and I had clean jim-jams, toothbrush and the like (me mam is still convinced that I am only ten years old!) - but it was nice! Like a ten year-old I was wide awake when me dad brought me a cuppa at 05:00 on Wednesday morning; I had been asleep, but only for a couple of hours I think. When we got to the airport it was already pretty busy. I think the poor sods flying off to the Costa Packet wondered what the heck was going on with all these Reds milling about all over the place. Checking-in was completed with the usual efficiency. For those of you who have never been on a European away trip with the Club let me tell you they are bloody well organized. Barry Moorhouse (who runs the whole thing) is the unsung HERO of Manchester United. You never hear this lad's name mentioned and yet without him nothing would happen for the spectators. So then we were through into the international departure lounge and the butterflies in my stomach taxied for take-off! It was about 06:15 in the MORNING and yet all the tables I could see were already awash with beer. How these lads (and lasses too, I guess) can drink pints of beer at that time in the morning is completely beyond me. To be honest I was so wound up I couldn't have managed a glass of water, never mind a pint of bitter. The Club 'demands' that you are at the airport 'at least' three hours before the departure time and this is a bit of a pain. But they have to deal with the lowest common factor and this is the reason. Instead of the "would all remaining passengers for flight xxxxx go to gate 99" message you hear things like "Would Smith and Jones go to gate 99 NOW or we're off and bugger you"! This is because most of these lads are too busy getting pissed to worry about niceties like going to board their aeroplane. That aspect of Club trips can be a real pain in the arse. By noon, though, we were in sunny Spain - and sunny it was. It was sweltering and I knew immediately that my decision to leave me vest off was justified. As an aside let me tell you that on the Thursday before the Cup Final I had been forced to take to me bed with a really bad dose of the flu. I really felt like crap. Cathy said (in complete innocence - honest!) "If you don't feel like going to Wembley, don't worry I'll go with your dad"!!! 'Don't feel like going?' - I'd have crawled on me hands and bloody knees to get there - and to Barcelona, if necessary. But the vest decision was crucial, you see. Any road it were very warm and there were no ill-effects. As we journeyed to the ground from the airport they told us that we would be able to leave stuff on the coach. This was great news for me because (being an ex Boy Scout) I had a massive bag with me and it contained everything (including cough medicine and enough pills to sink a pocket battleship) I might need if me influenza resurfaced. Then nearing the ground they changed their bloody minds and said that they needed the coach to make another trip to the airport so we had to take everything with us. I was gutted I can tell you because that decision denied me the opportunity to visit the city centre and meet up with the other Listees. More of this later. We decided to go straight to the ground so that (much later on) we would be able to find our way back to the coach; the area around the ground was absolutely heaving, even at lunch time. The bobbies would not let us go near the stadium, informing us that we could not approach until 17:00. This did not bother us unduly as I had already been able to buy me programmes (vital for my collection - as some of you know). So it was really time to go and find a nice (quiet!!!) bar for something to eat and a few drinks. We started off down the main road (the Avinguda Diagonal) and it was just wall to wall Reds, singing and drinking, so we decided to turn off the main road and investigate the hinterland. This proved to be a good decision for within ten minutes (and after a few turns) we found a quiet bar with tables outside and we were sorted. We stayed here for most of the afternoon and it was whilst we were here that I 'discovered' why I really wanted Manchester United to win the match. Daft as it seems dad and myself were (fairly) relaxed about things as we had seen the Reds win the European Cup before. Now that might seem crass but I think that it did make a difference. Some young lads joined us and I was absolutely intrigued to hear what one lad had to say. It was obvious that his dad was about my age and that he had been in attendance at Wembley on that never to be forgotten night in May 1968. This young lad had been on the receiving end of his dad's "You've never seen us win the 'BIG ONE'" taunts and it really did mean a lot to him. I had not really thought of it from somebody else's perspective up until that point and suddenly it dawned on me how much it was going to mean to all these young (and perhaps some not so young) people to be able to look me and my dad (and that lad's dad) in the eye and say "We've seen it TOO"!. It was a good moment for me and in a way gave an even greater emphasis to the events which were going to unfold before us. After a couple of hours in the tremendous company of these lads, another group of lads arrived and they, quite obviously, had had a fair amount to drink. Let me say straight away that they were no problem (well the "Get you t**s out for the lads" comments aside - don't like that sort of thing meself. Old fart that I am I would slap someone who said that to my sister - if I had one), but they were intent on having a right good sing. Fair play, that is their right and good luck to them, but it was just a bit too noisy for us and so we took our leave. On the way down to the bar we had walked along the main road and discovered that they had benches along the 'central reservation' (a nicely shaded and grassed area). So it was to these seats that we repaired for the last couple of hours. It was great to sit there and watch the world go by. All the Reds in great voice and so full of expectation and hope. "Bloody hell", I thought, "I hope these people aren't sad at the end of the night". And a few Germans, quieter than our lads (as you'd, perhaps, expect), but looking pretty confident nevertheless. We sat in the sun, had a small kip, talked with a few Reds we knew and generally enjoyed a most splendid and relaxing afternoon. At about 18:00 we decided to make our move to the ground; I'm glad we decided to go that early. When we had been at the ground at lunch time we had noticed the bobbies setting up a 'road block' - a filter if you will, and we knew that this was going to cause a problem as the time went by. When we got to the checkpoint it was already quite busy and people were finding it difficult to funnel from the edges into the middle of the road and thus through the police check point. It was all so unnecessary I thought, but these coppers seem to make a virtue out of stupidity. Anyway we got through without mishap and then went through the two sets of turnstiles and into the ground. To be fair to the stewards at the outer gate they were apologetic for having to trouble us to empty our (big) bags and one said "I'm really sorry, sir" to my dad; that was nice. I had never been to the Nou Camp before and it was with great anticipation and no little excitement that we actually entered the ground itself. It is impressive, of that there is no doubt, but somehow it seemed smaller than I had imagined. Maybe that was because we were on the lower tier, or maybe I had built it up in my mind, but whatever it is a great stadium and I was not disappointed. First job after taking a large breath was to have the obligatory photographs taken. Because I had had a bad experience of camera 'theft' many years ago I had taken a disposable camera with me and I am now praying that the pictures come out. Dad and myself in the Nou Camp - that really is a photograph I will treasure for ever. By this time we were both hungry and, as it was past 17:00, I felt like a beer (I never drink before 17:00 - silly rule I know, but there it is). We left our bags under our seats (we had a bobby stood next to us anyway so we were pretty sure our stuff would be o.k.) and went off in search of food. The next bit should embarrass me, but it doesn't. I am your typical, lazy Brit and have a complete inability to master any sort of languages (there are people who will include programming languages in that as well - and I've been a programmer for over thirty years!!) but we were able to identify the beers without a problem. Food however was a different story. 'Jam and cheese' rolls it said. Jam and cheese, eh? Well that's different - we'll have two of those. Later it occurred to me that Jose is pronounced Hose!!! So you now know what was in the butties. Are we simple folk or what? I don't intend to deal with the match in great detail. Other, that is, than to say that I thought young Beckham was simply magnificent. That was one of the greatest performances I have ever seen in a Red shirt. That the lad was too knackered to even stand up at the end of the match came as no surprise. That boy is developing into one of the greatest footballers of all time. Peter was, well, Peter. We will NOT see his like again - it is as simple as that. Stam played well too and that considering he was only really just back off the sick. I thought the other defenders were not quite up to their usual standard - they did alright but were not perfect. I thought Nicky Butt played their 'star' (star my arse) Effenhun (or whatever his name is) out of the game. If he is the greatest player in the world then I don't know how to describe either Keane or Beckham - he is not fit to lace their boots up for them. The front men all looked strangely out of sorts. Jesper was crap. I felt for the lad because he really tried, but he had an absolute mare. And Giggs can not play on the right. It's a mental thing with him. Put him on the right and he just goes to pieces - he looked so much better when they switched him over. Yorke and Cole were just bottled up by the big stormtroopers and didn't really get going. As we had been told that the coach was going back to the airport it occurred to us that there would be one hundred people turning up for fifty seats after the game. We agreed that, should the Germans win, we would not stay for the presentation. That is bad I know and not something we would normally dream of doing. If the boys won we would stay for the presentation and then go. As the clock ticked over to show 45 (not 90 as all the seagulls reported - they were probably all pissed by that time) I felt dad reach down and move his bag onto his seat. "Bloody hell" I thought, "he knows we've lost". Nothing was said, but I hang on my dad's every move and that really did shake me. Then we scored. Then we scored again. It was crazy. If I never see another game of football in my life then that two minute period will do for me. In 1979 we went through similar sorts of emotions only for it all to end up pear shaped. This time it was absolute delirium. I can't describe how it felt for I am not clever enough with words. It just felt very, very good. We watched the presentation and saw the boys come over to our end. We didn't want to go but felt it was the right thing to do. We can't rush these days, particularly when we've been on the go all day. As it happens when we got to the first turnstiles the bobbies refused to let us out. No reason was given but then the plod never need a reason to act like prats do they - it's obvious that they are born to the job! Then all of a sudden there is a shout and they all run off like sheep and we are home and hosed. When we got out of the stadium I was just staggered how many Reds there were outside. My heart ached for them. They had been so close and yet so far - it must have been a heartbreaker and I couldn't have done it. There were thousands of them and they were dancing and singing and all was well with the world. Not trouble at all. The coach? The coach that wouldn't let us leave our bags? It hadn't moved an inch. That was a disappointment I have to say. But if that's all I can complain about it's not too bad is it? As people got back to the coach the atmosphere was quite surreal. People were physically dazed and almost incapable of cohesive thought and speech. What we had witnessed was beyond anybody's comprehension and it showed. All I heard was "Unbelievable" and so it was. The journey back to the airport was long and tiring. The coppers like to have their say right up to the last moment. They like to delay things and show how clever and powerful they are. All it really demonstrates is how sad and inconsequential their lives must be. Sad, pathetic herberts. The journey back, which took about forty-five minutes going, took over two hours going back. That is silly really. But we got there in the end and the coppers would still be (just) coppers the day after. If you get my drift. As we sat on the coach just outside the airport it became 00:01 Thursday and I thus achieved the grand old age of FIFTY! My dad said some nice things and I was very touched by what he said. It was the birthday present to end all birthday presents. On my fiftieth birthday I was sat next to my dad, on a coach in Barcelona, Spain, having just seen Manchester United complete the TREBLE. I ask you - how much better can it get? We had to suffer a three hour delay but we were all patient. I mean they had so many people to move I thought that, all things considered, they did a wonderful job. The journey home was quiet really and oh, so satisfying. Then there was me mam and she had a cuppa waiting for us. What more could anyone want in life? Keep the Faith, Pete Peter Hargreaves (United Kingdom) http://www.cheswem.u-net.com/
CONGRATS to REDS ALL over the world.

Subject: Barcelona by P.H. - a bit I forgot to write! From: Peter Hargreaves In all my time both watching and playing football I had never seen something which I saw on that Wednesday night. After we scored our second goal at least three Germans lay prostrate in the goal area and refused to get up. The referee came over and remonstrated with them and demanded that they get to their feet; they did so with great reluctance. It has always been my impression that the German race were similar to that of the British, in that they had balls and would never 'lie down', this lot were a disgrace to their nation. I could NEVER imagine a situation where any players, representing Manchester United, would give up before the final whistle was blown. I will never look upon a German team in quite the same way again. 'Bottleless' buggers, with no grit whatsoever. The German men of the past, men of great courage and honour, must have been absolutely horrified. It just put Manchester United's 'never-say-die', fighting spirit into even greater perspective. What a wonderful set of boys we have representing us now. As if we didn't know that already, of course. Keep the Faith, but only in men who NEVER give up, Pete Peter Hargreaves (United Kingdom) http://www.cheswem.u-net.com/
CONGRATS to REDS ALL over the world.

Subject: Barcelona by Sean Hennessey (Part 1) Hi all, Well, here it is, enjoy! Trip Diary Part 1 - The Road to Wemberly Didn't quiet all get off to the best of starts - blind panic in realising I had't packed anything after a bit of a session the night before led me to sending the pager in a spin cycle with my wash. Now it sounds rather endearingly like R2-D2, but that's another matter. After an overnight flight into Gatwick that had me holding on for dear life and rather proud that I both kept my tea in and didn't scream for dear life (I'm not what you'd call a cultured flier). Sad, I know. The troubles continued, though, upon landing when I was given my usual 'Welcome' to England by the gents in customs. After about a half an hour of them wracking their skulls to find a single reason why they shouldn't let me in (I've a rather chequered past with customs, you see, nothing serious though), they let me through. I noted a distinct change in the bloke's demeanor as I waited as well, like he was almost disappointed not to be able to lock me up and turn me about. Do they just breed wankers for customs agents? After that there was sod all to do until half 4 that afternoon (this being 8am on Friday), so I bought all the papers and a few footie mags and retired to the smoking section to loiter. At half 10 my bags and I decided to get on with it, and off to Victoria where I decided no more transit, and hoofed it around with my massive kit bag until I found my way back to the Tate Museum, a favourite visit back in the day for me. That combined with a walk to Leicester Square (to see the first film that was on near when I arrived and would let me out by time to go meet Humph, I Still Know What You Did Last Summer) eat away the time and it was off. Once installed in Algate, I started the rounds of calls, firstly calling our Paul Windridge to arrange a meeting time at Wembley to do the tour of the touts and see if I couldn't actually get in to the bloody thing. We planned on meeting in front of the main gate at 12, so I rang off to make the same with Mark Roberts. Then a call into Mike Dobbins to plan our after Wembley imbibment (and place for me to stay). All smooth and arranged. Until, that is, a call from Paul put me on red alert - seems a certain someone (Dave) had gotten a call from the Pres of the USA Supporters to say that there was a spare ticket from our allotment to be had. He put word from LA (sort of) to Toronto (sort of) and our Steve who put the bug in Paul's ear that he should ring me (whew, that's a mouthfull!). I was given a number at the Hilton (I think) to call, who then went on to tell me that no sich Peter Holland existed then or ever in their books and I should be better off spending my time breeding turtles or something like that, so I decided to call Paul back and have a good strop... >From here Jet Lag and 24 + hours with no kip did it's trick and I spent the night falling asleep infront of all and sundry telly programmes... : So, with a brave face on an ugly body, I awoke and started the phone rounds again, this time with another attempt at cracking the Hilton. This time Peter had materialised and he told me that, yes, there was probably a ticket, but he had to wait on someone to be sure. Would I call back in an hour? Would I f*ck! I was counting them seconds I tell you! Another round of find the Mark Roberts happened, where I accidentally calley Paul Scully I think (don't tell him I said that!) and rang off in confusion. Sad b*stard (I'm Chinese Wall - proofing this one!). Finally cleared with Mark to where and when to meet and was told to keep an eye for the Cheese and Onion kit, so I was off. The trip was interesting in that I seemed to be followed by Bar Codes. I wasn't in colours, I had mine in my bag along with a Boston Reds shirt for our Paul, so there was no comment to me, but by the time I neared Wembley I was so tightly surrounded by cheerfull barcodes I thought I was in prison. This continued as I walked towards the gates (and I was not an hour and a half early as well). Interesting. I then realised just how stupid it was to be wearing a black Addidas long sleeve shirt (I wore the long sleeve to cover the Eric tattoo until I was amongst Reds and it was all I had!) as I was approached by a geordie woman who sold me a flower and wished me luck on the game. Little did she know who she was giving luck to! I spied a phone box and sallied forth to ring ol' Holland again and was greeted with the joyous news that I was now the proud owner of a ticket in the J section, all I had to do was hang about until he and another gent (sorry I forgot the name!) popped by, so I went up to search about for food and smoke my way to the grave infront of the olympic plaques wear I'm afraid my rather bulky frame has now graced the pictures of about 30 innocent football supporters! Eventually, and with no great haste, time passed and our Paul arrived, who nearly didn't get presented his shirt as he greeted me with comments about the extra girth since last time. We chatted for a bit and I told him of my forth-coming ticket, so we decided to wait for Mark, go get my ticket, and head down the pub, on my way to I would by a stupid floppy bucket hat for myself as I fancy them. One problem - Mark got delayed and never showed (he explainged it away later), so we went and Peter and friend were delayed as well, so we waited. Nto long, though, before a Pete Boyle popped by to relieve me of some of my money and start us all down the road vocal chord nodes. It took him about an hour to get some of the 'Reds' lining the grassy sides next to the J gate steps to join in, but once going they wouldn't shut it (thank f*ck) and even had a nice sing off with the police, who were trying to pull them back down. While thiswas going on Paul buggered off to fetch a few cans from an offie as it was obvious I was going nowhere before kick off. Great man that Paul, but he did miss 1) Peter Boyle getting way to emotional hugging a barcode (like long lost brothers, about the same size as well), a sight I'll never forget, and 2) Peter Holland popping in with friend (sorry, still can't get the name in) and my ticket. We nattered for a minute or two before they went off to find their seats and I went off to find Paul and my (well, beggars shouldn't be choosers) Budweiser. Yuck, but it was still better than nothing! After that Paul and I went back to the Main Gate to find Steve (we didn't), found someone-else (who I forget as well, you know these old braincells never worked to start!), and we made our way through the barcodes back to J (or K for them two) and in. Here I pause to ask a question: Pete B. sang a great song about Teddy Sheringham set to Teddy Bear's Picnic which ended with something like 'and that's when Teddy Sheringham won the treble'. Anyone got the lyrics? Send 'em on if so! I won't trouble you with the match details, as I'm sure it's been all clearly stated, but from my point of view it wasn't much to write home about. We never had to really get out of second gear and the codes decided 'To hell with our sexy football!' and played one of the most cynical matches I've ever seen. They were dirty and scrappy, and didn't deserve to even be on the pitch there. Our lads, on the other hand, had a great day and made a party out of it at the end. It was all tempered slightly by knowing that that was our Peter's last but one game, but there you go. >From where I was sat, the view was fantastic, I could see the whole lot vlearly, but interestingly enough I found myself stuck inbetween a Japanese couple who, though they seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely, never did much but clap the team (they did stand as well, though), and a pair of cockneys who wouldn't open their mouth but to stick fags in them. Not the high point of atmosphere, but enough was coming from around us (in patches, though), that it was alright. I still sang my lungs out and the highlight of it all for me was We Shall Not Be Moved, which came across as both a welcome statement of support and almost a violent call to stand ground. It was beautiful. (that said, I still think Yip Yap is a brilliant song!). After match I didn't get to meet up with anyone immediately so I made my way out and into the hour and a half long cue to walk up the bloody way to the underground as the Police would stop us for regular intervals. I'm not sure what was going through the geordies' minds (or perhaps in that oxymoron I answer my question), but they seemed to be more interested in watching us leave than they were in the match, apart from the one or two who shouted abuse at the appaling (I agree) lack of singing from our lot. Our only entertainment was to watch a rather pissed up Red trying to steal a massive inflatable Newcastle Brown bottle from a 'code. Eventually we got throughand I made my way to Tower Hill where I met up with our Mike Dobbin and group for a private party in a small but decent pub. I had to make another round of calls, which I saved for later (Humph illustrated my drink level by playing me the answer phone message I left), and we whiled away a great evening drinking and singing with Mike, his nephew, and some of the lads from the London SC. After close, me, Mike and nephew wended a not very straight walking way back to his somewhere in the northern area of London were we watched Jerry Springer (how come I can't escape these Americanisms?), had a last pint, and I passed out. While in transit though, as I was slowly starting to pass out, a nearly perfect day was brought back to me by a passing tw*t shouting out to me (still in full colors you see - I had changed after I met up with Paul) 'Smile, you fat c*nt, you won!'. For some reason, for once, I wasn't offended! End o' part one. tara - Sean
CONGRATS to REDS ALL over the world.

Subject: GMR Comms RUNNING NOW! *.rm files REAL AUDIO *.wav files (larger) play in windows Greater Manchester Radio 72553 Jun 6 02:39 http://www.red11.org/mufc/sound/99/sheringham_ecf99_gmr.rm 70k 126714 Jun 6 02:39 http://www.red11.org/mufc/sound/99/solskjaer_ecf99_gmr.rm 123k 755198 Jun 6 02:34 http://www.red11.org/mufc/sound/99/sheringham_ecf99_gmr.wav 737k 1314828 Jun 6 02:32 http://www.red11.org/mufc/sound/99/solskjaer_ecf99_gmr.wav 1.25meg Other ECF comms at: http://www.red11.org/mufc/sound/99/........ RADIO 5 live 27078 Jun 1 14:10 sheringham_cl99.rm 40447 Jun 1 14:10 solskjaer_cl99.rm 768044 Jun 1 12:51 sheringham_cl99.wav 1105964 Jun 1 11:46 solskjaer_cl99.wav Danish TV3 78574 Jun 1 14:11 sheringham_dk.rm 76k 110673 Jun 1 14:11 solskjaer_dk.rm 108k Talk Radio [Thanks to "paul t smith" ] 126723 Jun 4 07:54 talk_radio_sheringham.rm 123k 126721 Jun 4 07:53 talk_radio_solskjaer.rm 123k 1323058 Jun 4 07:59 talkradio_sher.wav 1.2meg 1323058 Jun 4 07:56 talkradio_sol.wav 1.2meg Martin Tyler recorded in Australia 36454 Jun 6 03:02 sheringham_tyler_ecf99.rm 108k 110675 Jun 6 03:02 solskjaer_tyler_ecf99.rm 36k 361844 Jun 6 03:07 sheringham_tyler_ecf99.wav 353k 1157382 Jun 6 03:06 solskjaer-tyler_ecf99.wav 1.1meg Thanks to all those who have sent these so ALL REDS can hear you know who you are :)) If you have others? Picadilly Radio USA Canada other Mail them to Barry at barrylee@post3.tele.dk *** 1999 FACS2 Ryan Giggs Goal: http://www.iol.ie/~redcafe/real/giggs-goal.ra Quicktime: 2.6 MB Quicktime movie: http://www.ccm.net/~andrewf/giggsy/ www.red11.org Sound Archive [Real Audio] Match interviews and other HOT news in real audio as email attachments "WARNING" these are generally up to 250k 1-5 min clips: ** The MAX size I will use is 10mins - 500k ** If you would like these mailings then send your email address and name to --> barrylee@post3.tele.dk --> please use Subject line ** remember to write either ** "subscribe Sound Archive" OR "unsubscribe Sound Archive" **ALL files require the latest REAL PLAYER G2 version download for free at http://pluszone.real.com/ http://www.real.com/products/player/index.html?src=dlbutton_all Another service brought to you by http://www.red11.org World Of Manchester United FC Barry Leeming & Bill McArthur
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