Can there be a more wretched existence in football than being a Manchester United fan? Well, yes, would be the instant retort from legions of supporters around the country whose teams never get anywhere near the glamour palace of the Champions League; for whom grim, gritty survival in crumbling urinals is the order of the day. But at least those fans have the dignity and fellowship of the underdog, of hope, or a local derby drubbing of a hated rival, a cup tie giant-slaying.
United fans have almost none of these thrills. For a club as proud as Manchester United, nothing less than domestic and European glory will really do, and those baubles seem forever out of reach. And we are not talking tantalisingly out of reach either but bargepole length distant: United haven’t got within ten points of the Premier League title or past the Champions League quarter finals for ten years. They
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