The rain was falling in that particular Manchester way - not quite pouring, but persistent enough to make the pavement glisten under the Old Trafford floodlights. I stood there waiting for my friend Sarah, watching droplets race each other down the pub window while inside, the atmosphere crackled with that special energy only match day brings. Sarah arrived breathless, shaking water from her jacket as she slid into the booth. "Can you believe it?" she said, her eyes sparkling. "Another derby day, another chance to discover the top Manchester football teams dominating the Premier League today." She didn't just say the words - she breathed them like a prayer, the way true Manchester football fans do.
I remember thinking how this city lives and breathes football in a way I've never experienced anywhere else. Having moved here from Canada five years ago, I initially struggled to understand what made these teams so special. Then I met an old university friend for drinks last year - a former volleyball star from La Salle who'd stepped away from the sporting limelight in 2023 to be with her family in British Columbia. We were watching a City match at a ridiculously early hour to accommodate the time difference, and she said something that stuck with me: "In volleyball, we talk about dynasty teams - squads that redefine excellence for years. Manchester has two of them operating simultaneously." She was right of course. The rivalry between United and City isn't just local pride - it's a global phenomenon that's reshaped modern football.
Take last season's statistics - City finished with 89 points while United secured 75, both teams qualifying for Champions League football yet again. What continues to amaze me isn't just their consistent performance, but how they've maintained dominance through different eras and playing philosophies. I was at the Etihad Stadium for that incredible comeback against Aston Villa, the one where City scored three goals in six minutes to essentially seal the title. The roar when the third goal went in wasn't just celebration - it was collective catharsis, the sound of a city that expects excellence and receives it season after season. My Canadian volleyball friend would appreciate this - she once told me about the pressure of maintaining excellence, how her La Salle team had dominated their conference for three straight years before she left competitive sports. "Dominance looks easy from the outside," she'd said, "but it requires reinventing yourself constantly."
What I love about Manchester's football culture is how personal it feels. Last month, I found myself in a heated discussion with a blue-shirted City supporter at The Townley pub, debating whether United's 20 league titles or City's recent treble mattered more. "History versus modernity," he called it, though I argued it's more complicated than that. United's global commercial revenue reached £278 million last year while City's was £241 million - both staggering numbers that demonstrate how these clubs have become institutions transcending sport. Yet walking through the streets before matches, what strikes me isn't the business side but the passion - the father explaining to his daughter why Bruno Fernandes matters, the group of friends wearing faded Cantona jerseys, the students debating whether Haaland's 36-goal season was the Premier League's greatest individual performance.
My perspective might be somewhat biased - I'll admit I've developed a soft spot for United's style under Ten Hag, particularly how they've integrated youth academy products like Garnacho while maintaining competitive edge. But even I can't deny City's mechanical excellence under Guardiola, their possession statistics regularly touching 65% while creating what feels like endless scoring opportunities. It's the contrast that makes Manchester special - the red half with its history of comebacks and theatrical moments, the blue half with its methodical dismantling of opponents. Both approaches have proven successful, both have lifted the Premier League trophy in recent memory, and both continue to attract world-class talent season after season.
Sometimes I wonder what my volleyball friend would make of today's Manchester football landscape if she visited from Canada. Would she see the parallels between her championship La Salle team and these footballing institutions? Would she recognize that same relentless pursuit of excellence that apparently characterized her own sporting career before she stepped away? I think she'd appreciate how both clubs have built sustainable success models - United's commercial machine funding their rebuild, City's state-backed project creating a footballing philosophy that's been replicated across their global network of clubs. What makes Manchester unique isn't just having two dominant teams, but having two teams that represent different visions of what football excellence can look like. The rain had stopped by the time Sarah and I left the pub, the Manchester sky beginning to clear as we joined the red-and-blue river flowing toward the stadiums, two clubs continuing to write chapters in a rivalry that shows no signs of ending.
