On February 6, 1958, one of the greatest tragedies in world sport occurred. The Munich air disaster. 23 passengers and crew who were on board the plane, including 8 Manchester United footballers, died when the plane crashed in West Germany. The team triumphed after winning in a European Cup match against Red Star Belgrade of Serbia when their plane crashed in appalling weather conditions after its third take-off attempt. What followed were some of the darkest and most distressing scenes the world of football had ever seen. This is the story of the entire event. We felt that nothing was beyond our capabilities as we talked so animatedly and laughed on the drive back from Belgrade. In two days' time, my Manchester United teammates and I were due to face Arsenal, which would have been another hugely important match for us. The sky was at a very low level and full of white snow as we came to land in Munich to refuel. The sky seemed dim and there was no light to be seen anywhere. The snow continued to fall minute after minute, making takeoff even more difficult. Heaven told me what was yet to come. I was less optimistic about the flight due to my specific dislike of the plane we were traveling on. I had flown on a plane like this before. In fact, I had never liked flying; I had been to a psychiatrist to resolve the problem a few weeks before traveling to and from Serbia. Flying was one of my worst nightmares. The first time I rode one it seemed like it took forever to get up and start the flight. I was fine after starting the climb, as the loud roar of the huge engines on either side assured you. Even though I was still on the fence about flying, from that point on we still had…half of paper…nk. I couldn't see anything. I remember hearing the screams and shouts of my teammates and friends. Then I thought to myself. How, against all odds, am I still here? It's a miracle. Now, in the hospital, I discovered the true speed of what had happened. 22 of my friends, teammates and traveling companions were dead and yet there was still a man fighting for his life in the bed next to me. This man was one of my closest friends, Duncan. I turned to look at him. It was a state. I didn't know how he could do it. I knew I shouldn't think of him negatively, but his injuries were horrible. I didn't know what to say to him or whether to say anything at all. Two of my teammates were injured so badly that they would never play again, while others carried enormous psychological scars that would shape their lives forever. Why had this happened??