As the sight of loved ones' faces in the stands warmed the hearts of the home team, the sight of this whole territory - Manchester - made the visiting Magpies eager to defeat the Reds. The contest began with a wound-up Gillingham sitting on the bench:

'I want you to calm down before you go onto the pitch, Tony. You're too tense, we don't want you to get carded,' said Mr. Nugent to the fidgety centre-forward.

'Can I assume I'll be playing in the second half?

'Probably… I should think you'll be ready then,' Nugent replied nonchalantly.

'… and a fine attempt by Tom Branson, quashed by Allan Meares. Meares to Crawley; Crawley gets the ball into the air, headed deep into the Newcastle side. They're all scrambling over there… Jimmy Kent closest to the ball, trying to get it, while Napier looks out for Manchester strikers with the same idea…'

Gillingham brooded over the whole scene, and over Matthew watching his mates' strategy from his vantage point.

'Ah, yes… Crawley. I'll be ready then….' he thought.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The Magpies had fought hard during the first half, yet Manchester had defended well; the general consensus in the press box was that Newcastle's strength lay in power and Manchester's in teamwork. Even Dick Carlisle, there to rake muck, had to admit he was impressed with 'the lot of 'em', from plucky Jimmy Kent to scrappy Allan Meares, from Evelyn Napier's elegant detachment to Matthew Crawley's warm-hearted engagement. He still had not laid eyes on anyone who looked as if she were Newcastle's femme fatale….

'Confound it, I wonder if there's even much to go on here, unless rivalry gives way to revenge…' Carlisle thought, sipping his tonic water with lime through a straw.

As the Stretford Grammar School Mixed Chorus and Brass Ensemble walked onto the middle of the pitch to perform a few pieces in their repertory, Bob Grant made his way to the benches and his players. Thomas Barrow looked as if he craved a smoke, Charles Blake filed his nails, Tom Branson had just come back with a glass of water. Tony Gillingham tied his shoe a bit more tightly

'Fellows, you're flailing a little bit. You want a victory so much you can taste it,' Bob said to the whole group. 'Relax… it's just a game. Someone's bound to get hurt otherwise, and that's the last thing we need.'

He then glanced at Gillingham as he sat up.

'And have you calmed down enough for the second half, Tony? I want to send you back in; Grigg's tired out.'

Thinking to himself that he would make up for the lackluster performance of his teammate, and show Matthew Crawley a thing or two, Gillingham answered,

'I think so, sir.'

'Let's hope so. You're going in.'