Showing posts with label Manchester United. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Manchester United. Show all posts

Friday, 31 July 2015

Retro Rewind - 'So Near, So Far: The 1991/92 Manchester United Season Review' (VHS)

Once again, ladies and gents, you're in for a treat as we welcome back Dave Burin to give you a review of a VHS tape aimed mainly at nostalgic Man United fans...
"What a goal from Clayton Blackmore.  He loves it, and so do the crowd!"

All these years later, I still love the famously oversexed full back's rocket of a strike, at a hostile Elland Road  It's been a shade over 23 years since this VHS first hit the shelves, just after the end of a season where triumph and despair mingled together uneasily amidst the rubble of the old Stretford End, pulled down after a final day victory in a 3-1 dead rubber tie against Tottenham Hotspur.

Whilst Manchester United's Class of '92 embodied a freak of nature, a youth side compiled of numerous future Premier League stars, its story was almost timeless. The gaggle of Giggs, Beckham, Gary Neville and even Robbie Savage, would have made headlines in 1965 or 2015 for the abundance of natural talent on display. But the story of that season's first team and the backdrop to their matches feels more definite. It feels more 1992 than the Class of '92's story. It's become a common cliché, but there's relevance to the argument that this was the last year of old football - depending on who you ask, perhaps, 'proper football'.

With the hindsight of time, and the club's enormous success in the intervening 23 years, watching through the build-up to our most infamous title collapse feels more like an exercise in nostalgia than an act of self-masochism. The title cards for each game mix brightly coloured scrapbook animation with short glimpses of the action to come, like some ill-advised crossover between The Big Match and Saved by the Bell.

With the distance of time, what seemed standard then, now seems lovably quaint. Sheffield United were sponsored by Laver, a timber company, because financial corporations and loan companies were simply not manly enough for Sheffield. During United's away game at Oldham Athletic, Denis Irwin jubilantly celebrates a goal whilst a woman walks along the touchline pushing a trolley which seems to be conveying a large vat of soup. What a time to be alive!

Even the names of certain opposition goalscorers evoke a sense of cosy familiarity - some long forgotten, but instantly conjuring up memories of half time Bovril, obscenely short shorts, Shoot! magazine and any other clichés you'd like to add to that list. Frank McAvennie. Nigel Jemson. Mike Milligan. Even Ian Rush's 'tache feels vaguely historic, a remnant of a time when the giants of the English game cribbed their facial grooming tips from Ron Jeremy. This was also a time before the choreographed monotony of the synchronised celebration. Steve Bruce flaps his arms like an overly-excitable eagle, after each goal he scores. It's the way things should be.

On that note, I should probably talk a bit about the football - and more specifically, the brand of football United played. Despite the eventual disappointment of the league campaign, there were magic moments. Young Ryan Giggs nets a stunning solo goal in a 3-0 home triumph over Norwich City. The Reds produce a slightly reckless attacking masterclass at Boundary Park, beating Oldham 6-3.  A 5-0 trouncing of an admittedly dire Luton Town (see left). Bryan Robson's late, great winner at White Hart Lane. This was a side that embodied excitement and entertainment. Harry Redknapp would have called them "T'riffic".

But, for all their attractive football, neither Man United nor eventual champions Leeds needed to be that good all of the time. Whilst in the big money, high-pressure Premier League of 2015, serious mistakes are something of a rarity, on the boggy pitches of 1992's First Division, they were alarmingly frequent.

In this one review video alone, Sheffield Wednesday's defenders clatter into each other on the goal line after a terrible backwards pass, and Brian McClair sneaks in to score. A Luton Town defender falls over his feet, leading to a United goal. Spurs stopper Ian Walker kicks the ball about four yards to limply set up a United goal. Peter Schmeichel concedes a few goals by just standing around the box looking slightly bored, as if waiting for a delayed bus to arrive.

It's all interspersed with interviews, of course. These were the dark days before a gurning Jim White held Sky Sports News hostage interviewing surprised players through car windows, and before United's centre backs could post every ridiculous thought they had on Twitter (love you really, Rio!). Bryan Robson is interviewed in what appears to be his living room. A reflective Alex Ferguson talks with a surprisingly resigned sadness about the season past. "We're not looking for excuses" he says, with a shrug of the shoulders.

The last jubilant moments take place at Bramall Lane and Wembley. The away victory against The Blades is a moment of pure, joyous early '90s emotion. The screen is awash in slightly fuzzy figures leaping over the terracing barriers, a unified mass of oversized padded jackets, technicolour shellsuits and uniform bowl cuts.  No hipster combovers here.

The footage in the build-up to the Rumbelows Cup Final is perhaps the most interesting feature of all. It's a document of how much everything has changed. Club officials eating a fried breakfast on the train with eager young lads in face paint and carrying homemade flags and banners. Workers at Manchester's Victoria station wearing red rosettes reading 'Good Luck United!'  It feels like another world to the football where Manchester City spend £49 million on an unspectacular player and parade him in front of a stage-managed set of 'fans'.

United win the Final 1-0 against Nottingham Forest. The trophy is presented by the 'Rumbelows Employee of the Year' - because apparently selling lots of computer keyboards translates into getting to give Steve Bruce a trophy. Anyway, it's a nice touch. Paul Ince is wearing a bucket hat. Peter Schmeichel is wearing a fez and throwing the kit man into a full bath in the dressing room. By this point I'm trying not to think too hard about the football - because I know what's coming next.

Even now, the last 10 minutes of this VHS review feel akin to the culmination of a shlocky but especially grisly horror movie. The fun part is over. Something horrific is about to happen, and though part of you wants to avoid it, you continue watching - compelled - knowing that the smiling faces will turn to masks of despair. United lose twice to Nottingham Forest. They lose at West Ham. Some pretentious git named Cantona keeps scoring for Leeds, and they go on to lift the title. It's all rather grim.

Alex Ferguson flashes back onto the screen, immaculate in jacket and tie. "The demands... of everyone means you have to win titles," he says meaningfully. Over the following two decades, those demands would be met and surpassed with incredible regularity. Even in 1993, though, winning the Premier League would feel somehow different to winning the First Division. Not better or worse, simply other.

The moustaches would be trimmed. The acid blue away kit would be retired, and left to the nostalgists and curios. The pitches would improve. Even the season review soundtrack, here a pleasant enough background noise which probably appeared on old PC screensavers, would get an upgrade. The times, they were a changin'.

Even if you're not a Man United fan, we're sure you'll agree that Dave's reminder of how things were back in the early-'90s was very evocative and a really great read. Thanks Dave!

If you want to catch more of Dave's guest posts at the Attic, you'll find the links below, or if you want to follow him on Twitter, be sure to find Dave at @GoldenVision90.

More from Dave Burin:

Sunday, 10 May 2015

The Football Attic's Hit Parade: We're Gonna Do It Again

It's a warm welcome back now to Dave Burin who continues our series on the great and not-so-great musical exploits of football teams down the years...
Who, or what, is Stryker?  He remains the Ali Dia of the mid-'90s rap scene, having somehow bumbled his way into the studio for Manchester United's 1995 FA Cup Final song, despite by all appearances, having no musical career before or afterwards. Much like the Stig, Stryker's identity is uncertain and possibly secretive. One Channel 4 documentary which focused on football songs claimed that he was an Arsenal fan from North London, though this has never been formally verified. And so, after 20 years of silence from this most enigmatic of one-time shouty football-themed novelty rap creators, We're Gonna Do It Again is the total sum of everything the world knows about Stryker. And maybe that's not such a bad thing.

If Stryker did indeed write the lyrics to this bizarre musical hotchpotch, it might be fair to infer that he's gone into hiding. Like the music world's Salman Rushdie, Stryker probably has a bounty on his head from several United fans with long memories, still outraged by their club's name being associated with lines like
"Because we're up there - cream of the crop
You gotta get up early to keep us from the top."
Despite the Reds' dismal display in the ensuing final (they were beaten 1-0 by Everton), what this United squad put their name to on record was undoubtedly more shameful than anything they produced on the Wembley turf.



So, besides the lyrics sounding like a public schoolboy's painfully polite attempt at trash talking, what does Stryker and Man United's cliché-ridden hit (it reached #6 in the UK Singles Chart) actually sound like? Well... there's an aggressive, tuneless drum machine which doesn't fit the melody, and has very likely been left switched on in the background entirely by accident. There's a wall of inoffensive though slightly off-putting guitar wailing in the background. At some point a keyboard seems to drift into the forefront briefly, before fading away - in what is an entirely apt metaphor for Brian McClair's on-field performances.

Around the 2:37 mark, our host clearly decides that things are getting a bit too authentic, that somehow it might be nice to alienate those hardcore Reds who, unaware of what awaits, are queuing up to buy this on cassette (or, for the really trendy individuals, CD). So, he tells us "we'll leave you with a message, Man U for the cup". It's an abbreviation used only as a derogatory term by opposition fans, and lazily by clueless pundits. However, I'd be here for rather too long if I tried to quibble over terminology with a man who spells the word 'Stryker' as if he's only ever heard the word when said aloud by Andrei Kanchelskis.

And yet, for all that, I kind of like it. It's unpolished, it's rather naff, it's full of lines which seem like they might have been scribbled on the back of a shopping list or scrawled down as Stryker woke up at 3am, his head buzzing with puns that don't quite rhyme.  In an era of overly-slick, characterless club songs, or annoyingly ironic efforts (I'm looking at you, I'm From Wigan Me!), there's something decidedly fun and unashamed and cheerful about Stryker's effort.  Now, enough faint praise...onto the B-side.


The best way I can describe the B-Side as is 'listenable'. It is, more importantly than that, incredibly lazy. In 1994, United had reached Wembley with the sounds of Come on You Reds, a catchy collaboration with Status Quo, ringing in their ears. It was the first football club single to reach #1 in the UK Singles Chart. In 1995, they chose as their B-side... Come On You Reds (1995 Squad). That's right. This vastly different version was recorded by the same club just a year later, meaning that at least two different players were involved in recording this completely necessary re-recording of the previous year's cup final song. No version exists online of the '95 track, though if you listen the '94 version and just imagine something exactly the same, you'll know what it sounds like.

Objectively, United may have done better to simply re-release the '94 cup song, and not rope (supposedly) Arsenal mad Stryker out of his (alleged) North London home to rap about "scoring our way to victory". Still, We're Gonna Do It Again is a relic of its time, and for better or worse, it sounds exactly like a mid-'90s attempt at coolness from a football club desperate to repeat its chart success. The tinned drums are dreadful. The vocals are dire. The lyrics are ridiculous. And yet, it's destined to bring a smile to my face every time I hear its refrain:
"Here we go,
Here we go,
Here we go."
I can indeed say that this largely-forgotten hit holds far happier memories than the cup final itself. Just don't expect me to be so kindly nostalgic the next time an anonymous rapper tries to rhyme 'victory' with 'tree'.

-- Dave Burin

Our grateful thanks, as ever, to Dave Burin for a fine guest post. Want to write about football nostalgia for The Football Attic? Get in touch - we'd love to hear from you!

Tuesday, 30 April 2013

Retro Random Video: Man United NOT appearing on Top of the Pops

We've seen it so often before, the sight of a football team appearing on Top of the Pops, singing (or rather 'miming') badly to their latest chart hit (if indeed 'hit' is the word we're looking for there).

But in 1983 there was one occasion when a football team were due to appear in the BBC studios to perform their song but didn't. This was because Manchester United, the team in question, were rendered unavailable on account of their participation in the 1983 FA Cup Final replay at Wembley against Brighton & Hove Albion.