The trip
On Easter weekend, I headed up to Manchester for a weekend seeing some friends and taking in a spot of footy – both non league and the highest echelons of the professional game.
I set out on Friday, going by train from southern England to London, then on to Milton Keynes and Crewe before arriving in Manchester shortly before 8pm. A short walk took me to my accomodation (a friend from college put me up in his flat for two nights) and settled in for the evening.
Saturday – Gigg Lane
My cohorts from across the water on the Emerald Isle, siblings Jack and Anna – this time accompanied by their dad Brian – arrived on Saturday morning. I had a relaxing morning watching some TV and reading whilst they landed in Manchester and went with Anna to a University open day. Anna starts University in September and is currently considering her choices. I met these wonderful people through the modicum of social media back in 2021 in lockdown, and our mutual love of United has developed into a lasting, and I hope lifelong, friendship. This was my sixth game with Jack, third with Anna and first with their Dad (whom it was great to finally meet).
Whilst she stayed behind to cram in some study for upcoming exams, us three gentlemen took the tram to Bury. Our destination? Gigg Lane, home of Bury FC ‘the Shakers’.
Bury FC – a fallen giant reawakening
On the banks of the River Irwell, the bustling market town of Bury – which is in a Metropolitan Borough also called Bury (still with me) – has an extraordinary tale to tell.
Bury FC won early editions of the FA Cup, twice, and reached the top division in the 20s and 30s. Despite existing in the shadows of giants United, City and the likes of Blackburn and Bolton Wanderers, the people here took great pride in the exploits of their hometown team.
But in 2019, when in League One the world caved in on the Shakers of Bury when they were expelled from the Football League due to unpaid debts and a series of poor ownership decisions.
Gigg Lane, the club’s famous old ground and their home since 1885, was sold off.
Homeless and with no ground, no players, coaches or a league to play in, Bury fought on.
In the true spirit of non league football, the community rallied round to ensure the name of Bury lived on.
Rising from the wreckage, a phoenix club was started by a fan-owned group and a new company called Bury AFC was born.
Merging with the existing, but dormant, Bury FC, the new club applied to join the tenth tier of English football.
It is here Bury have played in since re-forming in 2023, in the North West Counties Football League.
A historic occasion
We arrive at Gigg Lane, purchased by the same unstinting group of Shakers who ensured their beloved club would never die.
Today is Bury’s last match of a historic season. They sit top of the NWCFL Premier Division with 106 points, over 100 goals scored and 32 wins from 45 games, needing only a point for the title, promotion and the start of their long road back.
Everything about Bury is befitting of a higher level – their fanbase, their ground, the professional feeling of their setup and the team itself. Over 8,000 are here today – simply extraordinary for a non league game at this level.
Their opponents are Burscough, sitting in midtable and with nothing but pride to play for. It is a game Bury are expected to win but, in football, as we know, nothing is certain.
Burscough are reduced to ten men early on in the match as their centre-half is sent off in the 19th minute for a two footed lunge in the centre circle and Bury take full advantage. They are clearly too good for this division with a fine team of pace and panache cutting a swathe through their opponents, as they have done all season.
Winger Tyler James struck a hat-trick with another goal by Aiden Walker ensuring a final score of Bury 4, Burscough 0 – up as champions and into the Northern Premier League. Well done to all at Bury
To Old Trafford
We caught the tram back to the city centre before going our separate ways with the promise of the next day’s main event – the small matter of Manchester United vs Wolves – in the rear view mirror.
I awoke early with the air of excitement only a United matchday can bring. Despite our disappointing season, there is nothing on earth like being a Red and you never tire of the Old Trafford experience. That will never change, it is why we do it and why I have come here. There are brighter days ahead, Manchester United will rise again, and I will be loud and proud to be there when we do.
I meet the others at 11am and we board the tram, a heaving throng of fellow Reds, to Trafford Bar, a short walk from the ground. The sight of the Old Trafford cantilever roof poking out above the Salford skyline as you round the corner -bathed in history and majesty – is one of the finest sights in football.
After a quick pre-match pint (or two) in Morgan’s Bar boozer near the ground, we take the now familiar walk down Sir Matt Busby Way and into the ground for the 2pm kick off.
This is a game which is, to all extents and purposes, a dead rubber – United are putting all our eggs in one Bilbao-shaped basket in Europe – with the remaining league games an afterthought. Wolves are virtually safe from relegation but come to United on a red hot run of form in this battle of the Portuguese bosses.
Manchester United vs Wolves
That lack of jeopardy is in evidence throughout with the rotated Reds putting together some nice build up play and Carrington graduates Harry Amass and Tyler Fredricson catching the eye impressively.
There is a definite sense of ‘After the Lord Mayor’s Show’ with United’s late, late last gasp act of derring do the previous Thursday still fresh in the minds of all of a Red persuasion. United look neat and tidy on the ball but fail to make the most of their possession. Christian Eriksen has our best opening when his free-kick is tipped over the bar by Dan Bentley. A largely uneventful match has 0-0 written all over it, until the 77th minute when Pablo Sarabia’s superb free-kick flies over our wall and into the net. Just our luck: the visitors only shot on target puts them one up.
We do not deserve to lose, but it is the game’s only goal – and, to be fair, it one worthy of winning it or any other. Bruno Fernandes and Mason Mount squander late chances and, with that, the game is done. Another defeat. Our 15th of this Premier League season, and the numbing sense of acceptance is all but gone by the time I board my tram to return to Piccadilly and the train home. Only success in the Europa League can save United’s season, but the risk factor and jeopardy is off the scale – with Athletic Club in the semi finals, it is Bilbao or bust.
I wish the others a fond farewell with the promise we’ll do this all again.
I return to Piccadilly before my onward route to Milton Keynes, Bedford and then down to Brighton where I arrive home shortly before midnight – a long day, but an enjoyable weekend despite the result at Old Trafford.