It was the end of a very long and draining day. 4 hours spent brainstorming on possible hazards which might cause our bioethanol plant to go KABOOM, another 2 hours in a freaking boring lecture on Petroleum Refining, and 3 hours preparing for the KR Final Year Command next week. All I want to do after it all was to crawl in bed, whip out my phone and read a couple of articles that would lullaby me to sleep with the my all-time favourite TV series, Friends, playing in the background.

But no…. Manchester United were going to play a crucial match at 2.45am against Bayern Munich in the Champions League quarter final, trailing 1-2 on aggregate as a result of a devastating last minute defeat in Germany. United had to win; one-nil would do the trick but they had to win. With the form United were in and a half-fit Wayne Rooney, it was always going to be difficult for us. But as a diehard fan, I expected United not to disappoint me, especially considering I had sacrificed to watch the match.

All doubts I had before the match banished in the first few minutes! Before we knew it, we were up 2-0 in the first 7 minutes courtesy of a Darren Gibson missile and a Nani’s clever backheel. I smelled another AS Roma thrashing all over again! And it was rightfully deserved; United played brilliantly and the match was definitely one-way traffic. When Nani fired in his second goal, it was 3-0 and I had already started dreaming of a final’s date with Barcelona in Santiago Bernabeu. There was no way in hell Bayern could get themselves out of this shithole. They needed a miracle to save them. But there was one problem with that statement: in United vs Bayern fixtures, one can always expect miracles.

It only took one bit of complacency to turn the tide; it only was a second’s lapse of concentration. Within two minutes, United gave away a soft goal… a very very soft goal. Just like the one they gave away in the last minute of the first leg in Munich. Suddenly it was 3-1, and one more goal for Bayern would knock out United via the away goals rule. Bayern were lifted and the tides have changed. Suddenly we were hanging on.

Then came the moment of stupidity: Rafael, having been already booked, pulled Ribbery back and hence, deserving his second yellow card and his ticket to take an early shower and reflect. It was the first caution that he really had to reflect on. The second foul was actually worth commiting for a yellow card -that is, provided you’re not already in the book.

Suddenly we were one man down against a lifted Bayern Munich. I looked at the clock: 40 minutes to go. That’s a extremely long time to endure with 10-men on the pitch. I could feel my spirit sinking. I knew that with the quality Bayern had on the field, they would score sooner or later. And indeed it was that sheer quality that sunk United. A picture perfect volley from Arjen Robben, connecting from a Ribbery’s corner kick, blazed through the crowd in the penalty box, and ended up in the back of net.

3-2 on the night. 4-4 on aggregate. United didn’t have enough energy in them to come back and Bayern were heading to the semis.

At the end of the match, one could only look back at the first 40 minutes and wonder: “What the hell happened??”