TedofChume

I've supported City all my life.

My dad, a blue, would never take me because someone got a dart in their eye somewhere.

So I was finally allowed to go with my mate to Aston Villa in 1982, aged 12. City were top having won the first three matches of the season. I was so excited, proud to wear the scarf my grandmother had knitted for me when I was 8, and it had waited 4 years to meet Maine Road.

We were on Wilbraham Rd. Suddenly my hand stung with pain. Two 16/17 year old lads on bicycles stopped, my hand still ringing from the kick. "Off to the match lads?", they jovially asked, with the pure cruelty only a bully can enjoy. We nodded. "No you're not." Fear descended upon us, with no chance of escape or any chance of overcoming them, we were their cornered prey and robbed of our entrance money easily.

I didn't pluck up the courage to go again until the day after Yaya Toure was born. I was terrified walking down Wilbraham Rd in case it happened again, but I had to go and watch City at Maine Road. It was my lifelong dream. We lost 1-0 to Luton, we went down, everyone cried, but with the noise, the songs and enormity of Maine Rd, it captivated me that day forever. I was finally a bonafide City Fan!