Even the previously jaunty carnation on Sir Alex Ferguson's lapel seemed to droop as the Manchester United manager stood on the pitch at the end on Saturday evening, hands in pockets, waiting for the moment when he and his team would be summoned for their losers' medals and then, finally, be free to get the hell out of there.
How to describe the United players on the Wembley turf after the final whistle? It was not the usual pose of defeated finalists, scattered exhausted around the pitch like battlefield survivors. There were no histrionics and no demonstrations of anger or sorrow for the cameras. Instead they stood around, alone or in small groups, exuding a rare sense of embarrassment.
Manchester United players are not used to being humbled but that is exactly what happened on Saturday. Put simply, Barcelona all but refused United admission to their own final. And that is how they looked at the end: like a sheepish bunch of teenage lads turfed out of their local nightclub and with nowhere to go but home.
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