Although it wasn’t really Barcelona 99, Erik ten Hag’s struggling Red Devils sure as hell felt like it.

Stoppage time, one goal behind, and the prospect of a third straight home league loss loomed large.

Come on over. Scott McTominay sprang from the bench with two game-saving hits, resembling a contemporary version of Ole Gunnar Solskjaer.

The Scottish midfielder has been a consistent goal scorer for his country, thus he is not particularly unusual among goal scorers.

With just three of the allotted ninety minutes remaining, he was merely thrown on, his desperation growing.

After just seven minutes, he was buckling beneath his teammates’ jubilant and bouncy celebrations. It doesn’t get much more dramatic than this when you pull it out of the flames.

Actually, as everyone knows, it does with United. It was evidently not in the same division as that treble-winning Champions League final attempt 24 years prior, in which “Solskjaer has won it.”

At least not in terms of silverware, standing, or status. After all, it was Brentford and not Bayern Munich.

However, yesterday felt like it, when you’ve fallen as far into the you-know-what as United.

Ten Hag doesn’t have to reveal what was waiting for Brentford if they had held onto a lead that Mathias Jensen had given them before the Red Devils had even managed to get a shot on goal.

Though questions would have been asked, if not outright yelled, his employment may not have been in jeopardy.

For the first time since 1977, it would have been three straight losses in the home league. Six out of the previous eight games would have resulted in a loss.

There would have been investigations into United’s bumbling and startling performances during the international break.

As much as anyone in the halls of power at Old Trafford will undoubtedly dispute this, it very well might have marked the beginning of the end for this most recent government.

Then, thank God for McTominay. Remember, this is a man who very well would have been wearing a West Ham shirt had a deal been reached in the summer.

By the time he struck again, a goal had already been disallowed, rightly so for Anthony Martial’s offside before Super Scott headed in.

This time, there was no question since McTominay concluded the penalty box pinballing by slamming into the roof after Alejandro Garnacho just avoided losing the ball.

Even if it had saved a point, the critics would still have not been placated. It also shouldn’t do so.

You know things are bad when United fans get excited about a draw against the Bees at home. Luckily, that wasn’t the case.

Harry Maguire put his head to it as the seventh minute of stoppage time approached and Bruno Fernandes attempted one more, hopeful free kick into the box.

That Harry Maguire, that is. Due to Rafa Varane’s injury, he started his first game of the season in electric blue boots, making an impression as striking as his footwear.

Because McTominay ignored Ethan Pinnock’s attention when it looped up and delivered a header that arced over goalie Thomas Strakosha. It’s over, and United is surprisingly and ungratefully out of jail.

For one keeper, that meant heartache, but for Andre Onana, it meant salvation—at least, sort of.

At that point in the Brentford opener, which was a litany of misfortunes for the men in red, United’s Cameroonian dropper of clangers had committed yet another.

After three errors in the build-up embarrassed United, it was scored on the 27th minute by midfielder Jensen.

Primarily Onana, of course, whose embarrassingly flimsy hand gesture to block a shot that was more of a trickle than a tornado.

However, Casemiro’s TWO powder puff challenges with Bryan Mbeumo on midway were also unsuccessful. Both times, he was beaten by the Brentford striker.

God only knows what Victor Lindelof was hoping to accomplish with his cement-footed stab across his own box, accidentally playing a one-two with Yoane Wissa.

Perhaps the Swede believed he would receive credit for an assist if he helped set up the Bees forward for Jensen’s game-winning pass.

All it garnered was a red face as big as his shirt, but not nearly as much as Onana’s, who, since taking David de Gea’s place, has amassed a fairly remarkable goal-costing resume.

It makes sense why he later covered his face with his shirt. It must have been his intention to also dig a bloody large hole to hide in.

To their credit, United exerted constant pressure on the Brentford defense throughout the second half, and their enthusiasm and drive were admirable.

But more often than not, it was desperation than purpose. Not that the Bees were pinned to the ground. It was barely necessary for Keeper Strakosha to produce a series of worldies.

Actually, the best save of the game occurred late in the game, when it was still 1-0, when Onana made a save against Neal Maupay. He did, at the very least, display some heroism in that regard.

Nothing, though, compares to McTominay, a man who believed that his days at Old Trafford would be over.