Manchester, Munich, Moscow...

It's hard to sum up my feelings right now, hours after watching United seal a place in the Champions League final.

In 1999, I was a nine year old boy, I always expected United to win and although I was young I knew United achieved something great when I witnessed Ole Gunnar Solskjaer sealing the Treble with his last minute goal against German giants Bayern Munich.

I'd always be down at the Theatre of Dreams and was lucky to be at the Nou Camp that night, getting in on the singing, admiring my heroes David Beckham, Ryan Giggs and Paul Scholes not realising the importance of what I was watching though.

Nevertheless, I was rather blazé as a nipper, as any kid is, ask them what their predictions for a game is and it's "10 - 0 United" or something as farfetched. I didn't really understand the importance of the European Cup, the history or what it meant.

Then last season, as an 18 year old, I witnessed United beating Roma 7 - 1, Milan 3 - 2 with a piece of Rooney brilliance in the dying stages but unfortunately it all unravelled at the San Siro, we were beaten 3 - 0, outclassed and I was heartbroken - I'd longed to witness another Champions League final, I now understood what it meant to the club, it's history and most importantly us, the fans.

So when we made it through to the Champions League semi-final against Barcelona, the nerves built, I was shitting myself, the first leg started with Ronaldo missing a penalty and my heart sank - I really didn't want to go through the same agony again. We came away from the Nou Camp, the scene of our amazing 1999 triumph, with a 0 - 0 draw, the tie in the balance and Barcelona reclaiming their confidence.

The second leg came after a controversial 2 - 1 defeat against Chelsea at the Stamford Bridge which has left United needing to win their next two league games to make sure of the title I've so far taken as ours before then.

We were 'unfortunately unlucky' in the ballot for tickets to the semi final second leg at Old Trafford, no doubt our tickets were taken up by some executives of some big business in London somewhere or sold as part of some airline package in China I thought. I was gutted, nevertheless we got in the car, me and my dad, and travelled up to Manchester, primarily to soak up the atmosphere of a massive European night but in the back of our minds hoping to bump into some lucky cunt who had managed to get extra tickets.

On the way up, followed by all the lucky bastards who'd got tickets, we discussed the ongoings at the 'Battle of the Bridge' on Saturday, both in agreement that we'd still win the title but both unsure about the result we'd get against the Catalan giants.

We had to score more than Barcelona, it was as simple as that but the signs weren't good - Wayne Rooney was ruled out through a hip injury and Nemanja Vidic was ruled out with concussion - the signs weren't good at all!

We arrived in Manchester at about 6.30, the traffic was relatively steady going and we were just in time to soak up the pre-match atmosphere outside the ground, see all the fans, mixture of excitement and nerves at what was about to come.

Kick off was little over an hour away and I was constantly asking around for 'spare tickets', like those people who usually annoy the shit outta me and get me thinking, "why come to a game without tickets?"...now I know why though.

Manchester United does that to you, once you go, you're addicted, whether you've been once or a hundred times, you need your next fix and you'll go to any lengths to get that match ticket whether it be a game against Barcelona or Barnsley. I was heartbroken when I missed out on tickets to the game and I'd do anything for them.

The time rolled on, the nerves built, in my mind I'd settled for a seat in the nearest pub with a few other unlucky Reds. My dad told me we'd walk around the ground once more and head to the Bishop's Blaize to watch the game.

As we walked past the statue of Sir Matt, he pulled out an envelope (that same envelope that you wake up everyday after an application hoping it's on your door step) and handed it to me - in fact we'd not been unlucky in our application for tickets and there the fuckers were. Oh I could have cried with joy but the nerves wouldn't let me. I give the old man a big hug, called him a shithead and told him to move his arse before we missed the build up inside the ground.

So as we raced to our seats, still in disbelief at the old boy's tricks, the nerves, excitement all began to build again.

We took our seats, fifteen minutes til kick off and the atmosphere turned up a notch. We'll Never Die was sang, flags, scarves held high and the mosaics were a massive success, not that I could see ours, I know it said "BELIEVE" but the "68 - 99" one was excellent and it all added to the tremendous effort put in by the club and especially SEF.

The hairs on the back of the neck were up as the players come out...the Champions League music...76,000 fans...need I say more.

It was an amazing atmosphere but the game started off poorly, we rarely had the ball until just after ten minutes when BANG!...the man who missed out on our day in Barcelona in '99, struck only his second goal of the season and possibly the most crucial of his glittering career. It was a delight to see, right in front of me as the ball rippled the net and the crowd went wild. "He scores goals galore" sang the fans...well nowadays thats not entirely true but that goal was worth all of his goals prior to it.

From then on, as they say, the rest was history - United were through to a Champions League final again, now I appreciate what it means fully, I look forward to the final in Moscow, I won't get tickets, I won't be in Moscow unfortunately that's how it goes, I was lucky enough to be at the other final and to be lucky enough to go to Old Trafford for the semi but nevertheless will go up to Manchester to watch it somewhere and soak up the atmosphere that only Manchester can create for a United game and hopefully the magic of 1968 and 1999 can be resurrected in 2008, 50 years on from the Munich Air Disaster in what will be the first all English Champions League final.

But I know what it means, I've never felt so happy as a United fan, my first choice every season is and will always be to end the season as LEAGUE CHAMPIONS but the European Cup has finally, if I ignore the Scouser's chants of ''5 times'', taken a spot in my heart that I never thought it had.

Will the likes of Rio Ferdinand, Wayne Rooney, Cristiano Ronaldo and Carlos Tevez join the likes of George Best, Sir Bobby Charlton, Ryan Giggs and Ole Gunnar Solskjaer into United's hall of fame?

It'll be a nerve wracking day, the 21st May 2008, the eve of George Best's birthday (and my very own may I add!) but the history of this club, the magnitude of the game, the quality of our players, manager and fans means we can be confident of succeeding in Moscow whether it be Chelsea or Liverpool we come up against.

They wrote us off after the first leg at the Nou Camp and the handbags at the Bridge but we bounced back, this is what dreams are made of, we WILL be the English Champions going to Moscow and on the 22nd May we WILL also be European Champions.

The history of this club demands nothing less.