Every year there are a few soccer matches around different parts of the world that are able to transcend past competing fandom, and capture families, cities, nations and even continents. In Spain, two of the worlds best clubs who also happen to be national rivals clash at least twice a year in El Clasico. FC Barcelona and Real Madrid have laid claim as two of Europe’s truly elite clubs over the past twenty years, and any true soccer fan should make an effort to watch this match whenever possible as it is simply a showcase of the best class of the sport in the world. In South America, Brazil and Argentina hold a bitter rivalry over dominance of their continent. The all time greats of the sport make up this rivalries history, as Diego Maradona and Pele have paved the way for the likes of Lionel Messi and Neymar today.

The Manchester Derby, which I was lucky enough to attend this past Spring Break with my Dad, has a unique feeling that neither of these other two epic contests can claim. Two clubs from one gritty, industrial city in the heart of northern England face off at least twice a year in a game that calls the whole country to attention. Both Manchester United FC and Manchester City FC have storied pasts, dating back to the 19th century. In this city you are a blue (a City supporter) or a Red (a United supporter). There is no in between. There is no love lost between these two sides either, as fights or even riots are prone to breaking out both at the stadium or in the streets of Manchester when these two teams butt heads. Fortunately or unfortunately, I didn’t witness any of this violence first hand, but nonetheless my experience that day at the Ethiad was without exaggeration the most exhilarating 120 minutes of my life.

I was able to get to the grounds early and go to a pub neighboring the stadium, filled with the home City fans. I was patted down before entering and the security guard asked to see my scarf. I’m convinced if it had a United crest I would’ve been denied entry. After enjoying some of the local fare and beverage with a raucous bunch of blues, we made way to our seats and before I knew it the Manchester Derby was taking place right before my eyes. While Manchester City applied most of the early pressure in the match, it was United who broke the scoreless drought around halfway through the opening 45 minutes. In another great moment in Derby history, 18 year old Marcus Rashford diced past the last City defender and calmly finished with the composure of a veteran. Scoring a goal in an away match in his first Derby ever will surely be a memory the Rashford will cling to forever.

As the game wore on I noticed something fascinating that you simply can’t experience by watching these matches on the television. I could feel the pressure the City players felt to perform in front of their home legion. In sports we generally view having the home field as an advantage, which it should be, but in this game there was a strange anxiety in the Manchester air. The City fans were great, don’t get me wrong, and supported their Blue’s wholeheartedly throughout the match, but you could feel their pain, and feel the fans trying to urge their team back into the match. This translated to seemingly frantic and desperate play by the City players on the pitch, however, which was the most fascinating aspect to me.

The match ended 1-0 to United. It was unfortunate that City couldn’t tie the game, as I would have loved to see the Ethiad erupt in a sea of Blue, with 60,000 drunk Englishmen singing in chorus. The lasting memory I was left with that I will treasure forever I think truly describes this feud better than I ever could. As the game ended, the PA announcer urged all of the away fans to stay in their section as the City fans filed out to try and avoid the aforementioned riots. A wall of policemen in neon jackets framed the United fans as the Blues filed out, hurling anything they could find over the policemen and into the section of cheering and jeering Reds. The juxtaposition of the joy of the United fans and the pain and frustration of the City fans in that moment will forever live in the storage of my phone for a long time, but it will live in my head until I die.