North Stand swathed in hot dog smoke, the tiny turnstile entrance, the smell of the programme, the steps up and up and then that bright light and the perfect patch of summer grass, as green as you like. Nothing prepares you for that view the first time. You stand there like a rabbit in the headlight, wondering at the symmetry and beauty (or in Maine Road’s case asymmetry and beauty). What a sight. It almost didn’t need any football, any Dennis Tueart penalties or Willie Young fouls (which we got as a bonus that day). It was plenty good enough just as it was. 30 years on, that first sight inside the hallowed ground is as sharp a memory as any. A truly life-defining moment, a sensation we have all shared and never replicated, but we keep coming back for more. Next it will be these two: how do I put into words what they will feel as that view opens up, that smells hits the nostrils and the noise wafts over you? They will have to see for themselves, liek the rest of us!