An article by Steve Bruce from DailyMail
I can remember the day when Manchester United were again the kings of English football as if it were yesterday. Pressure had been building on the club for a long time to find worthy successors to the likes of Denis Law, Bobby Charlton and George Best. They were in their pomp on the last occasion Manchester United were the undisputed champions, back in 1967. But there had been nobody capable of equalling the feat for a generation. It seems unbelievable to think that now.
To put what happened to us into context, the season was going to the wire as it had done in 1992 when Leeds United pipped us. In 1993, we were in the strange situation of potentially being awarded the title without playing. There were a couple of games to go. We held a four-point lead. So anything other than a victory for our closest challengers, Aston Villa, at home to Oldham meant the title was ours. The match was being played on a Sunday afternoon. As we were playing Blackburn on the Monday night, we went in for a little light training. The instructions from the gaffer as we all headed home afterwards were explicit: Nobody was to watch the Villa game on television. He went to play golf!
Despite these orders, I settled down to watch it all and, bless him, Oldham midfielder Nick Henry became the toast of Old Trafford by breaking the deadlock. That goal signalled a build-up of tension everywhere, not least at Chez Bruce. These were the days before mobile phones and our home phone was ringing off the hook with about 15 minutes left in the Villa game. Oldham managed to hold on for a much-needed win, sparking a huge party — at my house. Within minutes, Peter Schmeichel — who lived virtually next door — popped in. Then Paul Parker and various other players turned up. I thought I had better let the gaffer know what was going on, so I managed to get hold of him on the phone, saying: ‘There’s a bit of a gathering at my house, a few of the lads have turned up.’ ‘Ok,’ he replied, ‘how many?’ I said: ‘Well, it’s more than a few — there’s about 25 of them round here!’
He had people at his house, too, and I think our party actually stopped at 3.30am. Not everyone went home. I went to bed and was awoken a few hours later by the sound of glasses tinkling in the kitchen. I went downstairs to investigate and was greeted by the sight of Bryan Robson and his wife, Denise, washing up and mopping the kitchen floor. It was hardly the ideal preparation for a sell-out crowd wanting to party but, whether through elation or relief, we managed to beat Blackburn 3-1 and the carnival really began. There was a star-studded gathering at Old Trafford that night. Law, Best and Charlton were all there. Sir Matt Busby, who had managed the ’67 team, too. It was a fabulous evening, the atmosphere so different to 12 months earlier when we had let it slip. Although we’d felt we had the better team, Leeds had proved it. And we certainly suffered a hangover in the season when we actually won the title.
We took a while to hit our straps after a poor start and then lost our way horribly in the autumn. At one stage we were 10th, having won one match in 12. Imagine the stink if that happened these days. But then Eric Cantona breezed into Old Trafford. I use the word ‘breezed’ but it was more of a hurricane, really. The term that really sums it up is ‘missing piece in the jigsaw’. You have to understand the pressure that comes with playing for a club such as Manchester United. I have seen it sap energy from some players and lift others to unimaginable heights. Eric did that to our group when he joined from Leeds. It was an eye opener for me — I thought we were going to sign David Hirst from Sheffield Wednesday. But all of a sudden Eric’s vision, technique and work-rate propelled us. He could do everything and, with a stage like Old Trafford, the situation was absolutely made for him.
Eric bought into us as players, too. He respected the institution and earned our respect in the dressing room by the manner in which he grasped his opportunity. It was as if Eric was the key to release all that tension which had been building over 26 years. Personally, I can’t believe it’s 20 years since my two late headers against Sheffield Wednesday. Everyone recalls that as an iconic contribution as we fought back to win 2-1 but I feel a bit sorry for Denis Irwin, who scored a belter at Coventry a couple of days later when we won 1-0. Nobody ever seems to remember that. Looking back now, to win 13 titles in 20 seasons in a league as competitive as the Premier League is astonishing. It would have happened eventually because the manager is the best there has ever been, but I’m not sure it would have happened as quickly without Eric.
He was the catalyst. What we all couldn’t have envisaged then was just what sort of dynasty Sir Alex Ferguson was creating. How many times since then has he assembled ‘great’ teams only to rip them up and start again, while still winning trophies? Given the age and quality of the current players and the drive of the manager, who would bet against him landing a few more?
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