And so, after just ten months and fifty one games, it’s already all over. No more Moyeschester United. How do I feel? Wistful, melancholic and reflective in equal measures; such a sad, sweet sorrow. I once observed that the extraordinary spectacle of Moyeschester United unsettled and disturbed me – even as a Leeds fan, it seemed oddly disorienting to see this most bitterly resented footballing behemoth brought so low, in such a short space of time. But after a while, I grew to fully appreciate and enjoy it, as so many other fans did from the very beginning of the benighted reign of the hapless ‘Chosen One’. It was like Neal Schon’s solo at the end of ‘I’ll Be Alright Without You’, or a Gwyneth Paltrow nude scene – don’t question it, just enjoy it, and be thankful it happened in your lifetime. Whoever succeeds Moyes at Old Trafford, it seems probable that we will never see its like again. So long, and thanks for the memories.
(In all seriousness, many people asked me at various points in the season, “Do you think they’ll sack him now?”; I always replied, “I think it would be a huge embarrassment to Manchester United to have to sack him within his first season.” Well, they did, and it is. What a silly bloody farce it has been.)