In the theatre of dreams

For the football aficionado, a trip to Old Trafford, home of Manchester United, is a trip to Mecca. PAUL TAGGART soaks up the atmosphere.

The highlights of an overseas trip can usually be predicted in advance - Disneyland, the Sistine Chapel or Copacobana Beach.

But occasionally there is an event or place that is truly amazing and knocks the predictable highlights into a cocked hat.

For me an evening at the "Theatre of Dreams", home of Manchester United, was such an occasion.

There is a seven-year waiting list for a season pass to the 67,000-capacity Old Trafford ground. But after an encounter with a ticket tout I managed to secure a couple of seats for Manchester United versus Tottenham Hotspur.

Riding the tram to the ground from the centre of Manchester and walking the final mile can be intimidating as thousands of Mancunian youths, in various states of sobriety, make their way to the match.

Policewomen on horses with flashing lights on their hooves work expertly to keep the crowd under control.

There was an underlying sense of menace as visitors with London accents barracked the northern supporters, but mostly the exchanges were good-natured. The football hooliganism of previous decades has been largely stamped out by vigorous policing.

Hastily constructed stalls outside the ground sell scarves, hats and hamburgers and add to the sense of theatre.

The well-rehearsed chanting and singing inside the stadium had to be witnessed to be appreciated.

Old Trafford also has an excellent museum that chronicles the history of the club, which began its life as the Newton Heath, Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway, Cricket and Football Club in 1878.

It covers the low of the Munich air disaster of February 6, 1958 (in which 23 people, including eight players, died) to the 1999 high of winning the elusive treble of the English league, the FA Cup and the European Cup in one season.

A huge shop sells everything from the predictable (shirts and caps) to the bizarre - Manchester United carpet, and slippers to walk on it.

But it is inside the stadium on match day that the club's heart beats.

The pristine ground contrasts with near anarchy and ankle-deep polystyrene chip cartons outside.

The chess-like precision of mid-field passing covers for the occasional eccentricities of Fabien Barthez in goal.

But all is overshadowed by David Beckham and Ruud van Nistelrooy's boots, as they each score twice.

Contrasting the night with an afternoon at a New Zealand National League game is like comparing the intellect of students in their final year at Oxford with kindergarten children.

Sure, $123,000-a-week may seem an obscene pay cheque for a 26-year-old with a bad haircut and a Posh wife, but watch him perform at the Theatre of Dreams, then judge.

* Paul Taggart travelled to England courtesy of the British Tourist Authority and British Airways.

Manchester United