ALTHOUGH it mattered little in the end, the impression that this was a home game for Rangers grew to be so strong you half expected Andy Cameron to run out onto the centre-circle and do a turn. It was abundantly clear that the Uefa family, for whom a large percentage of the ticket allocation was reserved, counts a disproportionate number of Rangers fans in its number. Each of these briefs appeared to have been snaffled up by an Ibrox fan.
Michel Platini, the president of Uefa, may have some investigating to do, although the event was all the better for the attendance of those for whom this was an opportunity which comes only once in a generation. For the Zenit fans, it was once in a l
ifetime. They offered much to the occasion as well, except for the supporter who invaded the pitch after Igor Denisov's opener.
Indeed, while pre-match reports had suggested that Rangers would have it all their own way in the ground there was still a vocal contribution from the Zenit fans, who were packed into the far corner of the stadium. On one banner Dick Advocaat had been mocked up to look like Napoleon.
The banners were imaginative and entertaining. "This is your chance. This is your time. Become legends," was written across one. Others were less epic in scope, and aimed to make a point instead. "Talk of the town – no thanks to the SPL and SFA" was another message. The town in question was Shotts, just one of a dizzying number – including Melbourne, Ipswich and Corby – name-checked on flags which flapped in a gentle Manchester breeze.
Supporters flocked to the VIP entrance to the stadium and offered their opinion on who were the good and bad guys as they made their way inside. Popular were Sir Alex Ferguson and Sir David Murray. Not deserving of such an accolade – at least not in the eyes of the Rangers fans – was Lex Gold, whose arrival merited a round of pantomime booing. It was, though, good-natured stuff.
Elsewhere, rumours soon spread of a broken big screen in town, and scores of frustrated fans. Many made their way to the stadium in a bid to feel part of the proceedings. Others had started congregating outside the stadium in the early afternoon. Estimates kept changing. The accepted total on the morning of the match was that 100,000 Rangers fans would be present in Manchester. By early evening – cue the smirks of Celtic fans, aware of the jibes about their own calculations of fan movement in Seville – this number had risen to 170,000. To be fair, it did not look a fanciful total.
The Manchester Evening News re-named its own city 'Mac-chester', and estimated as much as £25million being pumped into local coffers. "We're a friendly lot, aren't we?" noted one Rangers fan to a policeman as he walked by outside the stadium. They are certainly committed.
It seemed as if nine out of every ten cars heading south on the M6 had been crammed with at least four fans. The evidence of the Rangers fans' tread was everywhere, with flags having blown off car-roofs and been left to lie in the central reservation. At Westmoreland, normally a stop noted for its scenery, the smell of exhaust fumes mixed with the scent of burgers frying on a barbecue that some opportunist had constructed. From bridges hung banners bearing "the Bears" good wishes. One Celtic scarf hung forlornly from a truck parked by roadworks.
But it was inside the stadium where the enthusiasm really reached fever pitch. The announcer seemed to enjoy the agony of the fans waiting for kick-off a bit too much, prolonging the moment when the teams entered the pitch with endless countdowns. Part of the pre-match entertainment was a highlights package of the route to the final taken by both teams, and even a Rangers fan would have to admit the Zenit action was more engaging. Yet it was what happened on the pitch last night which counted, and Zenit were able to employ few of the moves showcased in the 4-0 trouncing of Bayern Munich in the second leg of the semi-final earlier this month.
The goalless half-time score was hardly surprising given Rangers' defensive expertise, and the promise made that the first-half highlights would be shown on the big screen during the interval was almost greeted with a groan. Both teams had another 45 minutes in which to shape history, and the Rangers fans held their breath as Andrei Arshavin beat the goalkeeper to the ball, but saw his effort cleared off the line by Sasa Papac.
"There's Only One Nacho Novo", sang the Rangers fans as the Spaniard warmed up. Sadly, Novo's appearance was designed to salvage a match that had begun to slip away after Denisov had put his side ahead. All the songs, the passion, seemed suddenly to count for nothing, and Konstantin Zyrianov confirmed this with another goal at the end.
The full article contains 860 words and appears in The Scotsman newspaper.
