Moments, emotions and sensations: Manchester United and the FA Cup

Football is an intense business, necessarily about moments in matches and days in seasons; those are the emotions and sensations that never leave us. It’s also the principal reason that the actual importance of the FA Cup extends way beyond its apparent importance, a pure, concentrated and distilled version of what infatuates us with the game in the first place; because winning it proves nothing beyond that single, simple fact, it is football for its own sake.

Success in the competition demands a combination of the bawdy and the spawny, which fits snugly with the mythology and self-mythologising of Manchester United. To the extent that these things can be separated, the club’s history is far more a product of the FA Cup and their 11 wins, than the league and their 20 titles.

United’s first win came in 1909, and though it was bracketed by league titles, before the war they were no big noise. But things changed immediately thereafter when Matt Busby was appointed manager, and in 1948 United fought through a draw of unparalleled difficulty before beating Blackpool at Wembley in the first classic final of the television era, the impact of the match extending far beyond itself.

“My whole life had been instinctively knowing that we had to get through the war, a question of surviving rather than achieving,” said John Stalker, Manchester’s former chief constable. “And suddenly Busby and that team of 1948 put before youngsters of my generation and my age the clear knowledge that there is more to life than just surviving, there’s something that can be achieved.”

Or, put another way, United were now a thing.

But they did not reach Wembley again until 1957, when Villa’s Peter McParland broke Ray Wood’s jaw, then helped himself to a brace. Two goals and a goalkeeper was the maxim attached to his afternoon’s work.

Somehow, in the aftermath of Munich, United returned the following season, the game marking Busby’s return to the touchline following his convalescence. With the country willing them to win, they lost again in similar circumstances – this time Harry Gregg was the victim, Nat Lofthouse’s deft shoulder-charge depositing him over his goalline and giving Bolton a 2-0 lead. Ire was such that their bus home was ambushed in Salford by kids throwing a variety of stones, tomatoes, bags of flour and lumps of turf.

Busby and Jimmy Murphy then began the torturous, agonising rebuilding process, and by the winter of 1962, United were fighting relegation. Finishing fourth-bottom, they staggered to a Wembley meeting with Leicester where definitive performances from Paddy Crerand and Denis Law gave them not only the trophy but an epochal moment that was both drug and gateway drug.

“Good for our ego. Our supporters felt important again,” wrote Busby; “The gate suddenly swung open for us, and we were through to the shining uplands,” said Law. Two league titles and a European Cup followed.

United did not reach another final for 13 years, losing murderous semis to Leeds in 1965 and 1970, the second after two replays. But 1976 began a run of three from four, characterised both on and off the pitch by a liberating fusion of youthfulness and recklessness. It featured an unlikely comeback at Wolves, a savaging of Derby, monumental semi-final wins over Leeds and Liverpool - and horrific final defeats, the manner of the 1979 capitulation yet to be bettered before or since.

But the centrepiece came at Wembley in 1977. Liverpool, already league champions and soon to be European champions, were prevented from winning the treble, the significance of which would only grow with the passage of time.

By 1983, the Cup offered relief from the stresses of failing to win the title, now 15 years gone. This was illustrated perfectly by the roar that greeted Frank Stapleton’s late quarter-final winner over Everton - and it was followed by a semi-final win over Arsenal. Then, at Wembley, only a late miss by Gordon Smithmust-Score saved United from defeat against Brighton, before, at the end of a 4-0 replay win, the ground sung Busby Happy Birthday.

Two years later United were back, following a quarter-final win over West Ham as famous for its off-pitch shenanigans as Norman Whiteside’s hat-trick, and a wild, replayed semi. At Goodison Park, Liverpool equalised at the death in both normal and extra time, before United won in memorable style at Maine Road and then in memorable, historic style at Wembley.

For the remainder of the decade the Cup was memorable for different reasons. In 1986, they were avenged by West Ham; Coventry won at Old Trafford in 1987; in 1988 Brian McClair thumped a late penalty so high over Highbury’s North Bank as to defeat both cliché and metaphor; in 1989, Brian Hill adjudged Brian McClair’s bundle to be not over the line. There was rancour.

As there was the next year; United were 15th in the league when the Cup started, having been thrashed 5-1 by Manchester City. The sense was that if they lost their third round tie with Nottingham Forest, then Alex Ferguson would lose his job - though Martin Edwards, and who could possibly disbelieve a man of such unimpeachable integrity, denied it.

Either way, United won and then sneaked by a succession of lower division teams away from home, then took replays to sneak by Oldham and Palace in the semi and final. Things improved somewhat thereafter.

In 1993-94, United’s successful run was elevated by the ridiculous goals and inspired violence that defined Alex Ferguson’s first great side; in 1995, Eric Cantona colonised Bramall Lane and Leeds were ravaged at Old Trafford, prior to the burn of a week which saw them lose league and Cup within a week; in 1996, a stonewall penalty helped them win a local derby and at Wembley, Liverpool’s white suits were accessorised by Cantona’s late winner.

United’s most difficult Cup success came in 1999, when they beat a Premier League team in every round but one. Most particularly, Liverpool were devastated with two late goals in the fourth round before Chelsea and Arsenal, title rivals both, succumbed in yet more remarkable replays – an ill the FA immediately cured.

As it turned out, the ferocious zeal of these battles was but a ruse to hide their contempt for the competition. For no reason, whatsoever, United flat refused to defend the trophy, and similarly, the droves of fans cavorting on the pitch at Villa Park in 2002 clearly felt no real affection for the competition - they were just overtired and showing off to their friends.

In each of the next three seasons, United met Arsenal, who embarrassed them at Old Trafford with an understrength team; Ryan Giggs missed an open goal and David Beckham left with a gashed forehead. United subsequently won 10 out of 11 games to pip Arsenal to the title.

A year later, Arsenal were champions-elect and the best team left in an unprecedentedly weak Champions League last eight. But, from nowhere, players and supporters somehow extracted a performance of supreme defiance that was enough to defend the Treble. After that semi-final defeat, Millwall were brushed aside in the final.

And, if 1999 meant things could never be as good again, 2005 meant they could never be as bad again; just after the Glazers bought the club and just before Liverpool won the Champions League, United lost a penalty shoot-out to Arsenal that marked the end of English football’s greatest ever rivalry, the only time two great sides have reached a concurrent peak.

United haven’t lifted the trophy since then, no longer the competition’s most successful side. Accordingly, every January, the nation is shocked to learn that neither Rio Ferdinand nor Wayne Rooney have a winner’s medal; there’s no question about that.

Which brings us to this season. In 20 years' time – in 20 minutes’ time - no one will care that United failed to qualify for a competition they’ve approximately zero chance of winning. On the other hand, the mere mention of Rashford's goal at West Ham and Martial's against Everton will have grown adults clenching their fists until the day that they die. Moments in matches, days in seasons, emotions and sensations: that’s the FA Cup, that’s football, and that’s sport.