I left my voice...

in Old Trafford. And what a sham.
Whether Flitney was out of his area was difficult to tell from where I was and just as difficult for the referee. It was the assistant who gave the decision. Unfortunately the referee who hadn't been able to see the offence committed deemed himself able to tell whether it merited a red card.
It was the wrong decision technically and morally. There are those who will trot out the rebarbative mantra about consistency, but no one was denied a goal-scoring opporunity, even though Flitney was clearly the last man. That makes it a deliberate handball and a yellow card offence. Instead the referee crushed the atmosphere for all the fans and ruined the biggest football game of two players' careers: the goalkeeper Flitney and Louie Soares, who was substituted by the new keeper Scott Tynan without touching the ball.
There may well be some positives to draw. If we'd had eleven men and got stuffed it would have been really embarrassing. At least we scored. The club should now be out of debt. But we spent over £50 each and took the day off work, spending nine hours on a coach for the referee to screw things up; and people taking their family up during half term spent more.
Football is a sport and the professional game should also be about entertainment. Despite what the phone-ins say it's not about conjecture and debate. If I wanted that I'd have stayed at home and watched Question Time.
By the way, if you don't know what I'm talking about, you can find out here.
addendum
I have since discovered that losing my voice was due to catching a cold. Flitney has meanwhile had his red card rescinded, which only serves to prove the referee's onanist tendencies.