B efore kick-off at a lovely soft sunlit Wembley Stadium, Manchester City’s fans turned their backs and engaged in a mass Cup final Poznan. At the final whistle there was a strange, optical echo of that moment. Here we had an anti-Poznan, the Poznan of departures, as the backs of the blue shirts were once again turned, this time heading towards the stairs and out along the gloomy grey Wembley concourses.
Fans never stick around at the end of a losing final. Many did so here just long enough to applaud the City players after what is still a champion season. And this always was a weird, through-the-looking-glass FA Cup final.
It ended with the leaky-roof billion-dollar underdogs beating the remarkably efficient government outreach project, which is some way short of culture clubs and crazy gangs but we work with what we have. En route it gave us Erik ten Hag’s last stand, or perhaps not last stand. There he was dancing happily at the end in dark suit, no socks and trainers, an outfit that said: “I’ve just had PE and it’s final period, somebody give me a chicken box.
” Manchester United win FA Cup after Garnacho and Mainoo stun City Read more It gave us Steve McClaren’s Wembley redemption, out there in the full June sun turning a little puce, un-wallied. It gave us familiar United noise and heat in the days before the game, the manager shemozzle overshadowing City’s own shot at an unprecedented double Double. But then this has been United’s sole achievement .