21/05/2025
I can’t believe it’s over. After a season that felt like walking through a storm with no umbrella, we came to Bilbao hoping for just one bright moment—and even that was taken from us. A scrappy own goal in the 42nd minute, and just like that, our chance at silverware slipped through our fingers (1-0 to Spurs at San Mamés).
Every one of us poured our hearts into this campaign, through the endless questions, the doubters chanting “not United” every other week, and a league performance that will haunt us until we rebuild. Yet here we are, still wearing red with pride, even when it hurts most.
Thinking back to Old Trafford’s roaring nights, to lifting trophies that seemed impossible, and to the dream of one more run at glory… it’s gut-wrenching to see us fall short again. But this club is built on resilience. I’ve seen us rise from darker places than this, and I still believe in our heroes on and off the pitch.
Tonight, we mourn. We feel the weight of every missed chance, every sloppy pass, every moment we let ourselves down. But tomorrow—tomorrow, we stand up and fight to write the next chapter. We owe it to those in the stands, past and present, who bleed red. We owe it to ourselves.
Sleep will be hard to find, but I know I’ll wake up with the same heartbeat: Manchester United, for better or worse. And come what may, I’ll be there—believing again. Because that’s what it means to be United.
