Tears

Heaven is weeping with me today, and with thousands of Mancunians in the Eternal City, as we mourn the dashed hopes of a second straight Champions League title.

I love the Beautiful Game, and I love my brave boys of Manchester United. Love has a price though, when disappointment is part of the package. If it were just me, I could cope with the big losses like this, but my sorrow in this case is multiplied by the 11 men on the pitch.

It is heartbreaking to witness their struggle over 90 minutes, and have it result in failure. A year's effort brought them so close to having their name engraved on that beautiful trophy with the ribbons flying so carefree from its handles. Today they had to accept consolation with the runner's up medal, and watch their opponents rejoice as they proudly hefted the trophy aloft, to the delight of their fans. Meanwhile, the supporters of Manchester United were stuck abroad in a strange city, in a foreign country, in that massive stadium, unable to escape the jubilant songs of victory and the fireworks.

In 90 short minutes - 90 minutes which flew by so quickly, the result still seems unreal - a whole year's worth of dreams has died. This is when I ask myself: why do this to yourself? Why invest so much emotion, so much hope, so much time into this game which has the potential to proffer so much grief? The answer is because it is the Beautiful Game. Through this game, I am connected to many thousands of United fans, hundreds of thousands of Deutschland supporters,and millions of followers of Football. It offers constant drama. It is the honourable battle of 22 men for territory, possession, supremacy and respect. It is the exhibition of gifts and talents. It is fidelity to a confraternity, a place in history. It is tears and dejection for sure, but as is being experienced in Barcelona tonight, it is also joy, exaltation, triumph, euphoria and pride.

Today I am defeated. Tomorrow I will pick myself back up again, and set my sights on the next battle. I am United!