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Wednesday was a fresh, sunny September day and by mid-afternoon dozens of Galatasaray supporters were wandering the streets around the ground. After the Bosphorus and the golden minarets of Istanbul they must have been a little disheartened to wander the canal or sparse, soulless Trafford Park with the building block skyline of Manchester. Those from North London were in more familiar surroundings and polite but desperate lads were enquiring after cheap alcohol.

Lore tells that there is something special in the Old Trafford air on European nights, something to stir the soul, something to conjure in the mind’s eye the scarlet shirts of Tommy Taylor and Dennis Viollet, of Denis Law and Georgie Best, of Bryan Robson and Norman Whiteside before the roaring, surging mass of humanity that was once the Stretford End. In recent times there is an interesting history of Turkish visits. Would this be a seesaw night of hubris and nemesis like Galatasaray’s first visit in 1993 when we stormed into a two goal lead yet needed Eric Cantona to rescue us with a late equaliser?

Perhaps it would be like their 1994 visit when barely known teenagers Simon Davies and David Beckham swept us towards a four goal victory which for a few exciting minutes, as news came of Gothenburg’s goal in Barcelona, looked as though it might have earned us a passage to the knock-out phase. Or perhaps it would be unmitigated triumph like the night of Wayne Rooney’s debut against Fenerbahçe in 2004. Goodness, even David Bellion scored that night.

It was none of those things but at least it was not one of those European nights when to sport is as tedious as to work. The blood more stirs to rouse a lion than to start a hare and once again we are in the easiest group but it was a rare end-to-end tussle. One did not envy referee Wolfgang Stark, for it is difficult to recall a match where there were so many penalty decisions. He might have got more of them right; surely a referee trained in the Bundesliga is best experienced to tell a gleek from a foul.

We had had less than thirty seconds of play when Stark got his first penalty decision wrong. Nemanja Vidi? cut out a right wing cross from Burak Yilmaz and then dithered on the ball and cut down Umut Bulut, who had robbed him of it. Stark may have taken the view that it was too early in the game to give but it was cast iron and we were lucky. Our initial response was excellent, gallivanting Nani and Antonio Valencia looking briefly at their best. Nani took a clever one from Shinji Kagawa with a satin touch but could not quite chip Fernando Muslera. Michael Carrick was at the centre of the move which ended with him taking a weighted return from Kagawa round the goalkeeper, who tripped him. Stark was spared this decision because Carrick did the old fashioned thing; instead of lying there tense tendoned with upward vacant eyes inviting the referee’s favour he stretched out a left foot as he lost his battle to stay upright and steered the ball
home; 7 minutes 1-0.

The Turks, however, had come with piratical intent. Paul Scholes gave away the ball, Nordin Amrabat in oceans of space on the left sailed half the length of the field, cut in and curled a beauty onto the top of our bar from twenty yards. Felipe Melo got a good head to one of their corner kicks but Carrick had just done enough. There was a banner disdaining Hell and instead welcoming Turks to the Stretford End but nobody was kidded. With Galatasaray enjoying equal possession and more chances our crowd was a meek contrast to the raucous mass of singing, dancing red and yellow which was the visitors’ quadrant.

When Kagawa picked his way through the Galatasaray area with an intricate dribble, Dany Nounkeo’s tackle from behind was perfectly judged but with van Persie heavily policed our attacks were generally toothless. Valencia’s low crosses were cleared, his longer ones designed to pick out the absent Wayne Rooney. His best was across the face of the goal; Muslera flapped and Emmanuel Eboué controlled it with his arm in full view of the goal line official.

Patrice Evra gave the ball to Melo and ended up fouling Amrabat in a dangerous position near the bye line. The well worked free kick left Hamit Altintop shaving the outside of David de Gea’s right hand post with a ferocious grasscutter. Evra made up for that with two superb clearing headers under pressure but when Scholes yet again gave away possession Altintop was through the middle. Carrick timed his foul so that it was just outside the area.

The interval was a sombre one for we were reminded that the teams were wearing black armbands because in Hattersley on Tuesday two young, unarmed policewomen, Fiona Bone and Nicola Hughes, had been murdered. I had wanted to say something to one of the policemen on duty at the stadium but there seemed nothing to say. On an otherwise fine day the heavens wept for a while as the announcement was made.

Despite Sir Alex Ferguson’s half time demand for greater retention, after a neat exchange between Nani and Kagawa, who shot wide, we resumed conceding more free kicks. From one of these Altintop was again perilously close. Nani made a superb run up the left wing, a move which ended with Rafael da Silva taking Scholes’ pass and surging into the area where Burak Yilmaz, who had continually been committing nuisance, tripped him. It was a penalty alright but one was still surprised to see referee Stark pointing to the spot. To whom do you want the ball given when your team has missed its last five? Nani’s stuttering, dummying run-up fooled only himself. Muslera watched him impassively before tumbling to his right and stopping an easy shot.

We were now enjoying much greater possession but the chances were still even; at one end Seçuk ?nan rose and twisted to send a header flying across the face of our goal, at the other Vidi? headed Nani’s corner for the ‘keeper to palm over. Evra linked up well on the left and nearly squeezed one in from a tight angle. At the corner kick Nani went down when Emre Çolak impeded him. Of all the penalty shouts this was the softest but Nani lay on the floor having a hissy fit when he might have won back the ball. Galatasaray ignored being so pestered by a popinjay and broke with speed; a goal looked certain, Burak Yilmaz’ fierce drive was parried by de Gea but fell back to Çolak. De Gea’s second save was brilliant.

Ferguson took off Scholes and brought on Darren Fletcher to a huge ovation. There were only ten minutes left on the clock but after eight months of illness it might have been better to bring him on in less stressful circumstances; he looked as slow and out of touch as you might expect. Van Persie had had a disappointing game and his replacement by Javier Hernández made more sense. Danny Welbeck came on for Kagawa. The fresh faces improved things and Hernández, showing speedy and intelligent running, made himself three great chances where van Persie had had none. The first he controlled well but miscued from a narrow angle. The second he latched on to and slipped under the goalkeeper only for Nounkeu to clear. Both these were supplied craftily by a Nani trying to make amends. Hernández’ last was an extravagant volley when Valencia’s cross came to him.

There was time for two more penalty decisions for Stark to get wrong. Valencia cleverly worked his way to the bye-line and cut in only to have his trailing foot taken by Nounkeu. The referee was obscured but the UEFA official was standing not two yards away, staring into space thinking about his flight home. At the other end, what on earth possessed Jonny Evans, who had had a fine match, to lunge at substitute Aydin Yilmaz dribbling away from goal? With another referee it would have ruined our night.

Counting the goal, therefore, it should have been five United penalties to two for Galatasaray and if they had all been given we would surely have lost two nil. When your team has won only one of its last five home European ties, however, three points is a good feeling in most circumstances and even if you suspect that in the easiest group we may have found our level in this year's competition.

Paul Andrew James