As the first half came to a close, the players made their way toward the tunnel.
Both teams maintained an ordinary demeanor, but the City players looked slightly disgruntled. Robertson walked toward the tunnel from the sidelines, while fans in the stands leaned over, gesturing at him in various ways.
Booing, jeering, sarcastic applause, curses, laughter, and even shouts rang out:
"Noisy neighbors, don't get too excited! We're Manchester United, and we won't be easily beaten. So what if you're two goals ahead? By the time the match is over, you'll be crying your way back to Eastlands!"
Of course, the fans knew all about City's grand plan to move to Eastlands—right into the part of town where people dumped their rubbish and stray dogs roamed free. Perfect for a club with their ambitions.
Robertson walked on with a calm expression, unfazed by the jeers from the Manchester United fans. He had long since learned—from O'Neill—that engaging with them was a fool's game.
