End. Game.

End. Game.Finished.

End of the road.
No more treble.

And the whining goes on.

I'm gutted.

Not because they bowed out of the finals.

No.

I'm disgusted because they limped out of the match playing like shit, looking like shit and were reduced to looking like... no wait, they were a bunch of passion-less, headless chickens rooted to the ground after being outplayed and outclassed by a Milan outfit that almost brought tears to my eyes.

Look at the passion, look at the hunger in their eyes and tell me if you see the same in the Red Devils.

Sans a player or 2, the rest looked relaxed, languid and worst, lacklustre(or luck-lester as an officer of ours used to say...)

If I didn't know better, I would say that the M*fia kidnapped all their families and strapped bombs to them, or something like that.

I can't believe I actually lost sleep over such inept performance.

But enough.
I'm looking forward to tomorrow, and the glories that await us.
And win or lose. They'll still be my one and only Manchester United.

Glory, glory Man United...
Glory, glory Man United....

PS: I am in no mood to entertain jibes for the moment. Please don't maketh me dulan by sending smses such as "Song Bo!" or something along this line. I try not to make fun at other fans and their clubs' fortunes so please accord me the same respect.

PPS: Only exceptions are people whom I know for very f**king long, people that I'm f**king close to. And babes/chio bu-s. Nuff' said.