Old Trafford, Theatre Of Dreams, 4-1, we escape with our pride intact.

Pouring rain. Turnstile searches, an open bottle of mineral water refused entry. We offer the top, a female steward still says no, we throw it away wishing it was acid burning some jobsworths away. Inside, no room, big queues in the concourse even with five to go. Seats with legroom that one foot six drawfs would struggle to squeeze into. Like sprinters touching the floor with only the balls of their feet we shoehorn into our places. It's crazy, it's expensive, it's Old Trafford.

Teams run out, Derby 4-5-1 McEveley, Griffin, Davis and Moore, the back four. In midfield Oakley, Leacock and Pearson central, Fagan, Barnes wide, Miller upfront.

And we compete. And we have the better of the first half hour. And we have the first shot on target, Giles Barnes. And we have the first corner. And we have the second shot on target, McEveley. And surprisingly although we are poorer player by player we play as a team and we look capable of holding our own. And we sing "Can We Play You Every Week" such is the feeling on the terraces. And the pitch. We believe. The players believe. And that is more than enough.

Then it changes. Warning signs are given. McEveley a last ditch tackle on Rooney, the ball rebounding off Bywater, cleared.

Trying to play football we clear to feet, Pearson dispossessed, Ronaldo shoots, Bywater parries and Giggs turns home. One nil.

Two nil and Tevez pushes the ball past Bywater at the second attempt. An element of offside in the first active phase ignored and the Red Devils greet the interval with a two goal lead.

Half time, stay in your seat or join a queue. For £39 the choice is yours it makes no difference both just pass the time. Neither gicves you any satisfaction.

Second half, both McEveley and Fagan withdrawn, replaced by Mears and Howard. It's 4-4-2.
Ronaldo who had been effectively restricted by McEveley in the first half goes to ground. Griffin gives the ref the benefit of his opinion and gets a yellow card for his thoughts. And whilst I don't for one moment condone dissent, the ability to deceive is one that should be restricted to magicians and not overpaid Portuguese con artists. And it that offends then it clearly has reached the target intended. Cheats apparently do prosper, at least in the Premier League.

Barnes tests Van Der Saar, the ball almost squirming past the keeper on a greasy surface. A corner and Davis tries an overhead kick which would have been as spectacular as it was wishful thinking.

United add a third. Tevez in the area, Leacock in the penalty area stands off and off and eventually Tevez curls the ball into the back of the net. Simple. Easy. The sort thing any superstar worth tens of millions can do. Unfortunately we have none.

Barnes who had perhaps provided the most spark was replaced by Teale and the impressive youngster Anderson who belied his age of nineteen was subbed for Fletcher.

Teale almost added to the United score when his back pass to Bywater flatfooted everybody, the ball rolling past the post for a corner.

Eventually, the Rams on a break, Mears speculates wide on the right, United defenders trailing, the ball is played in and Howard gets a piece and the ball trickles into the goal. A clearance after the ball crosses the line is spotted by the linesman and the Rams have their first away goal of the season and also their first for over seven hundred minutes of Premier League Football. "We Are Going To Beat You 4-3" the optimistic chant. More realistic is "We Want Two" as the Rams press forward for a second.

Not that it matters to Manchurians. Mass Exodus the mode as Red Seat after Red Seat appears vacant. Never mind sneaking out, it's E.L.O. time, think "Last trian To London" and if that's wrong I apologise. Perhaps the last train to Altringham leaves just as early.

Three one becomes four. Ronaldo goes down easier than Wayne's granny and Chris Foy points to the spot. It's a disgrace and one that anyone with integrity would condemn; Cur Alex Ferguson the man who can get away with speeding down the hard shoulder of the motorway because he needed the toilet excepted .

Anyway Tevez wants his hat-trick, Ronaldo disagrees. The kick ready, a run. and a stop and then a shot and Ronaldo puts the ball past Bywater. Sticklers will point out that at the point the ball was kicked a United player had encroached by all of five yards but hey this is football at the top level and officials don't spot those sort of things at top teams do they?

Finally the whistle, applause, conversations begin. We're not the worst team to visit Old Trafford and it was a soft penalty. Partisans to the end we express our views. And that in a nutshell is football. May it never change.

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