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Borussia Dortmund in 1956, Everton 1965, Dukla 1983, Montpellier 1991, Porto and Arsenal 2009; Wednesday was a day for recalling the times we travelled with fragile or non-existent leads and returned triumphant. We all knew that that evening the Allianz Arena on the northern outskirts of Munich would be glowing red with the colours of Bayern while inside their supporters would be singing in confidence of victory and it would take something very special for this present United side to prevail. Bobby Charlton and Dennis Viollet creating an unwitting epitaph for their team mates in the old Red Star Stadium, Georgie Best and the star spangled aristocrats at the Estádio de Luz, David Sadler and Bill Foulkes and the ghosts of the dead at the Bernabéu, Roy Keane selflessly in the Stadio delle Alpi; ah, but then we were the music makers, we were the dreamers of dreams, we were the movers and shakers of the world, it seemed.

We made four changes from the first leg but began as we had played last week, defending in numbers while Bayern enjoyed long periods of possession and still we gave away the ball more than they did. Arjen Robben was allowed to cut in and get too near the heart of our goal; luckily Franck Ribéry’s cross was useless and when he himself attacked up the left wing, Phil Jones, filling in at right back, proved his match. Pep Guardiola this time played Robben and Ribéry conventionally on the wings. Our resistance was impressive; Chris Smalling against Mario Mandžukić and suffering a clash of heads to beat Thomas Müller, Shinji Kagawa’s interceptions were intelligent. The disappointment was that Danny Welbeck and Wayne Rooney got at them and our attacks, rare as they were, looked as promising as theirs but we failed to capitalise. A Darren Fletcher pass found Rooney on side but he seemed to be unaware that he was clean through and after he had put Jérôme Boateng on his bum he missed the moment to move the ball laterally to the unmarked Kagawa; it is so easy from the stands. A third of the way through the first half both Kagawa and Antonio Valencia were offside for Rooney’s cross before Valencia converted it.

We were squeezed into a decreasing section of the pitch but the line held. Ribéry could not get round Jones no matter how hard he tried, Nemanja Vidić won a couple of key headers, Patrice Evra calmly robbed Mandžukić. When Philipp Lahm’s ball put Robben behind us on the bye line Vidić cut out the cross, when Müller broke away at speed, Smalling chased him all the way and tackled him well, when Mario Götze dribbled into our area Ribéry chose to cross instead of shoot and Evra was there to rob Müller. In the middle of the park Lahm and Toni Kroos were spraying it about but when the statistics stood at 207 Bayern passes to our 76, 77% pass accuracy to our 56%, fourteen attempts on goal to our one they had still not troubled David de Gea in our goal. Vidić was given a ridiculous booking by referee Jonas Eriksson after a perfectly fair header against Mandžukić and our worst worries were a brief moment when we fell asleep at a throw in and could have conceded a goal to the sharp Müller and a clever dribble by Robben into our area after he stole the ball from Welbeck; his shot hit Smalling.

We came out for the second half and took them on and the home crowd, only too aware that their side was not performing at its best, went quiet. Kagawa nearly nodded Rooney through and forced a decent save from Manuel Neuer. We were gaining more and more success and the majority in the Allianz had slipped from silence into restiveness when Michel Carrick won the ball and chipped it up the right touchline for Valencia, who brilliantly beat Boateng, David Alaba and Kroos. He did not intend his cross for Evra but that is who ran onto it and hit a shot of dazzling violence with his left foot which crashed down off the bar and into the net with Neuer able only to turn and watch its glorious progress. Our players celebrated as if we had won the cup itself and for a cruelly fleeting moment anything looked possible; 57 minutes 1-0.

Bayern responded like true champions, like we used to do. Götze attacked up the left wing where he beat Jones by feeding the ball back to Ribéry who centred, Mandžukić got in front of Evra with a terrific diving header and twenty two seconds after the restart they were level; 59 minutes 1-1.

If, up to our goal, the match had been a heavyweight fight with the older champion doggedly confounding the odds with intelligent hard work against a stronger, taller, technically superior opponent, the boxers were now slugging it out blow by blow. Before the goal we had constantly got numbers behind the ball, now our defence looked sparse and porous. Yet we were in a better position than at the start; if we reverted to our plan of disciplined caution a draw could no longer take Bayern through. Genetics are not slave to logic though and in its death throes the old United pumped adrenalin; we took a foolhardy fight to the best in the world. It was thrilling and brave but doomed. From a slick move Ribéry hit the side netting. Welbeck nearly managed to flick on Valencia’s ball and seconds later really broke through in their area, cutting it back for Rooney whose tame shot was a waste of one of history’s golden opportunities. At the other end de Gea had to save Götze’s header, Kagawa did well to concede a corner to Robben and Mandžukić headed wide.

Carrick gave the ball away, Jones was outwitted by Ribéry, Carrick’s defensive header was up in the air, de Gea was unprotected trying to punch, substitute Rafinha’s shot could have gone anywhere; we were looking nothing like the determined team which had held equality with Bayern for nearly two and a half hours. Now Jones, who had done so well, was being beaten every time by Ribéry; it was in both men’s minds. This time the cross went across the goal to Robben on the other wing and he simply passed it into the danger area hard and low. Müller was closely marked by Vidić but got in front of him and turned it in from six yards, a fine poacher’s goal from a world class striker; 67 minutes 1-2.

Still an equaliser would have put us through, yet Bayern knew they now had us bleeding and on the ropes. Why was it necessary for Ribéry and Müller to go running and screaming at the referee to plead for Evra to be sent off when he missed the tackle and took Robben’s trailing leg? Vidić executed a tackle on Müller so clean that the most dastardly Johnny Foreigner could not find excuse for whingeing at the officials. Moyes brought on Javier Hernández for Fletcher but Kagawa’s cross to him after a brilliant run was cut out by Boateng so dangerously that Neuer had to save it and Hernández’ chance to change the course of the night had gone. From the clearance Robben attacked Evra who, already booked, was cautious with his tackle. Robben glided past him, passed Vidić and shot, Vidić’s lunge touching the ball out of de Gea’s reach and into the bottom corner; 76 minutes 1-3.

For us it was not just the fight that was over but eighteen consecutive years of Champions League football. With wonderful deathless ditties we have toured the world’s great cities and out of a fabulous history one man conquered a crown and fashioned an empire’s glory. The home crowd, ere a quarter of an hour fretting and mute, crowed as Bayern trampled that empire down. We plugged away but Valencia and Welbeck could not engineer a breakthrough and substitute Adnan Januzaj was well policed. Rooney, booed to the last for his dive last week, gave one of his one man cameos, shooting Valencia’s cross against his own man, curling in a long free kick, racing back to tackle Robben.

No one could deny the better team had won; at this level our best is no longer good enough and it has increasingly been so since 2009. No matter what the Press have to say, however, we went out at the last with our heads held high. That our players, to a man, gave their all should be celebrated and questions such as where we would be if they had done so all season, can wait. Wednesday night was history in the making; sad history, a time for mourning. Each age is a dream that is dying and one that is coming to birth. Now others are the music makers, the dreamers of dreams, the movers and shakers of the world, it seems.

Paul Andrew James