Chris Griffin

You’re right John, life’s too short.

We haven’t met, but we did have a few pleasant and grown-up phone conversations around the time of the FA Cup win. Then he came on my Facebook page acting like a cock and embarrassed and annoyed me in front of my close friends and family. It is irrelevant if he understands why it annoyed me so much or whether it was intentional or not. (one thing’s for sure, it had rag all to do with Manchester United!!)

I actually don’t believe it was intentional and so, having said my bit, I’m prepared to let it go now, not least because everyone else must be thoroughly bored with it. I’ll stop short of apologising because I have done absolutely nothing wrong, but there’s an olive branch out there – let’s see if he’s man enough to take it.

You actually stated that you had read it in my book! So that makes you senile, a liar or, quite probably, both.

And no, to answer the question you have now asked about a dozen times, I am not an only child. Is there no end to the things you can get wrong?!

He’s off on one again isn’t he, the dotty old Grandad… Below are two extracts from my book that OwdMouthBlue thinks prove that I have always been a Man United fan.

a) they don’t, and
b) I don’t give a fuck whether he thinks they do or not, and I’m certain that nobody else does either.

Oh, and finally, I’m quite sure that not one of those posting on this thread gave Man United even a second’s thought when deciding what to write. I know I didn’t.

As we reached the age of seven or eight, Andy’s dad would take us to watch some real football. In those days he was not in the rugby league camp like my dad. He was, and still is, almost forty years later, Bobby Charlton’s biggest fan but he would take us to various grounds in the early seventies. I remember going to watch Bolton at Burnden Park and Leeds at Elland Road. Until relatively recently I had match programmes from Old Trafford. I therefore know for a fact that I saw Georgie Best, Denis Law and even Charlton himself play live, without remembering too much about it, sadly.

On my return to Wigan from college at the ripe old age of twenty-two, I became a founder member of Hindley Celtic, a team consisting predominantly of catholic lads that must have been the only papal-influenced team in history to choose to play in an orange strip. As we played on Saturdays, my visits to Springfield Park to watch the Latics over the next few years were still few and far between. As I was also living and working in Manchester, I shamefully lost my primary allegiance to the Latics and became an armchair Manchester United fan. Well, it was either them or Manchester City and what loser would choose City over United? Not this glory-hunter, for sure.

Even if I became a bit estranged from Wigan Athletic, I didn’t lose my love of the game in general. Far from it, in fact…

… In my early thirties, two mighty events occurred to catapult me back into the world of Wigan Athletic. Firstly, I became a single man and moved back to Wigan again and secondly, I ended my Saturday football playing career and plumbed the depths of Sunday League football instead. This enabled me to start watching Latics on a more regular basis. I had neither a care nor a responsibility in the world. My new girlfriend – Helen, now my wife – was happy to keep her independence and positively encouraged me to bugger off to the football. I barely missed a Latics match and rarely missed any match at all on television.

Or more likely lie, looking for a free kick ;)

Me neither.

And Macheda has signed for Cardiff this morning.