It was supposed to be the 2nd Champions League match we would have been going to in a fortnight. And with possibly a bigger group of 5 keen to go up, we booked tickets in 3s and 2s. As luck would have it, only the 2 seater that I applied for came to made it through the 2nd ballot. Work commitments forced Joanne to take a rain-check, and so David happily took her place. And since it was only going to be the 2 of us, we decided it was best and most economical to go the Coach route instead of driving, and so we did. The fact that all the 2359 and 0130hr coaches back to London was full did not deter us. We just feared having to find shelter until the next coach we booked for which was at 0355hrs. Nonetheless, all thoughts of the long wait ahead were changed the minute we got to our seats. The view was much better than when we watched Roma and the fact that we managed to cram some beers before kick-off did us good too. And when the match started until it ended, it was an emotional rollercoaster all-round. I had been nursing a sore-throat from the day before and was busy popping prescription losenzges to ease the discomfort. Yet this all proved futile as all the shouting we did just worsened my condition. The shouting, itself was not in vain however as we roared the Red Devils back from a 1-2 halftime deficit to an eventual injury-time climactic 3-2 victory. That moment when Rooney scored the winner sent everyone in the stadium and around us into a frenzy. Strangers began hugging strangers and yet while it would only make sense for that moment, it was more than enough for us all, be it us the two Singaporeans, or the father and sons to the left and right of us, the old men behind us and the little kid that screamed and hugged me. It was in this moment that everything became relevant and truly beautiful.