anyone read this?

[Didsbury Dave]

It's a top book. Mark is a Dale fan but seemed to identify and empathise with us. Not a PR flannel job either, he was quietly damning of Chris Bird and Tueart. Ps, I get a namecheck in the book over a vaguely amusing incident abroad. So it's my all time fave, with respects to the legend Gary James

Yes, he uderstood the club very well. And the fans too.

And it wasn't just stupid fan talk - "best fans in the land" and all that crap.

He actually described City fans at that time very well. He said something about City fans being every Shakepeare caracter ever written. He even said we had touches of arrogance and martyrdom. Something ike that, anyway.

And it was true at the time.

Now we're hopeful but paranoid, in pretty equal measures. I might start a thread on that, actually.

 

[Soulboy]

It's a top book. Mark is a Dale fan but seemed to identify and empathise with us. Not a PR flannel job either, he was quietly damning of Chris Bird and Tueart. Ps, I get a namecheck in the book over a vaguely amusing incident abroad. So it's my all time fave, with respects to the legend Gary James

Yes, he uderstood the club very well. And the fans too.

And it wasn't just stupid fan talk - "best fans in the land" and all that crap.

He actually described City fans at that time very well. He said something about City fans being every Shakepeare caracter ever written. He even said we had touches of arrogance and martyrdom. Something ike that, anyway.

And it was true at the time.

Now we're hopeful but paranoid, in pretty equal measures. I might start a thread on that, actually.

I actually knew Mark Hodkinson, the author, quite well, as well as Steve who wrote the Balti book. Steve is a real top lad, and a mad keen Blue, while Mark has a fondness for City, but a burning passion for the Dale!

I even got a minor namecheck in Mark's book, so for me it will always be my favourite City book of all time. If only for the fact that he described that season perfectly... and for all the fact it was a crap season, it was still just about the most exciting season I ever followed City.

Hius comment about City fans going to the away game at Macclesfield... and setting off at 9am... was so spot on!

 

[Didsbury Dave]

I remember it, Soullboy..."the smell of non-high street tobacco wafted across the terraces...the player were not the only ones on grass. Sometimes it's whatever gets you through"

And lots of other memorable lines. Not least "because City don't do miracles, you see. Manchester City and magic parted company a long time ago"

In fact, give me two minutes and I'll get some up here. It's on his website.

Back in a minute.

 

[Didsbury Dave]

Heres one :

Heads down, they streamed down the aisles. Two goals down, four minutes left, time for home. City, you see, don't do comebacks; magic and Manchester City parted company long ago. Suddenly, Horlock whacks a loose ball into the net. A consolation, surely. Tick-tock, more time gone. Another frenzied attack and Dickov strikes the ball home. City are everywhere, there's magic in the air.

Time for penalties and City can feel their most consistent performer of the season - their magnificent support. Forced to take their kicks in front of the City fans, Gillingham faced a cacophony of noise, not to mention a goalkeeper called Nicky Weaver. All shaggy hair and gangling legs, Weaver has the laid-back, loose-limbed demeanour of a fifth-former asked to join a kickabout with a few urchins in the park. Two penalty saves later, he is skipping, jumping, hopping across the Wembley turf. City are up and the road maps to Colchester, Wycombe et al are redundant.

Fittingly, City had brought Manchester weather with them and, if it felt like October for most of the game, both teams played as if they were wearing duffel coats and Wellingtons. Ominously, as the rain came down, stewards donned white raincoats complete with pointed hoods. They haunched in front of the supporters like grim reapers waiting for their quarry.

At the end, Joe Royle punched the air, hugged his goalkeeper. Back in December, Royle had already given up on discretion when he blurted: "I hate this division." As a player and manager, his previous visit to football's hinterland had been for the occasional stat in the Cup. Then, opponents would roll out the barrel-chested defenders and, after some thud in the mud, Royle and Co were back on the team coach 3-0 to the good and a hearty sing-song all the way home.

It has been a tortuous season for City. In their smart club blazers, they have disembarked from luxury coaches on to weed-strewn car parks. They have picked their way through puddles and pot holes, to run out on pitches surrounded by broken stands. Facing them at every game has been a set of players passionate to beat Manchester City, the very Manchester City who used to be on television used to be famous. You know, Colin Bell, Franny Lee, Rodney Marsh. It felt like great fun, the equivalent of a date with Claudia Schiffer at the scruffiest pub in town.

A good percentage of the players could be said to deserve the dishonour, since nine of those on duty at Wembley were in the squad that was relegated last season. The supporters, however, merit no part in this arbitrary punishment. If Blue Moon is the club theme song, "You're not famous any more" has become the scornful anti-theme. It has hurt that the same fans who once waved inflatable bananas at their rivals have gamely put their arms round one another or a bottle of beer. The enigma of City fans will go on. They are every character Shakespeare created, but all in the same person: foolish, loyal, proud, dogged, sentimental and headstrong. They are the type of people who still cry at re-runs of the Incredible Journey. Happy or sad, they howl, "Blue Moon, you saw me standing alone", to the night sky, or the pub landlady. It is a beautiful song, a ballad for the bruised. When they sing it, they are the sailor drifting down the Ship Canal after too many years at sea. They didn't get the goal, but City beat Gillingham - division one here we come!

So, United did the treble. Big deal. Very big, actually, but that's another story from another part of town. Wembley is Wembley and the promotion play-off final is more important to a club's well-being than a Cup Final. The latter is a pleasant day out, a celebration regardless of the result. The former is the future of your club condensed into 90 minutes. A dodgy back-pass, a goalkeeping fluff and you remain in Nowheresville for another season, at least. The Grim Reaper left Wembley with Gillingham under his arm. The other lot were singing their hearts out. How does that song go again?

 

[Didsbury Dave]

The above is his match report from The TImes, reproduced in the book. The best bit in the book is straight after that, when he gives his thoughts about the occasion. He says something like, and I paraphrase:

"Football is routinely dull and monachrome: pass and move, mark, pass, tackle, foul. It was like this on Sunday until suddenly, inexpicably, it became celestial; the birth of your first child, your first love, driving your first car with your elbows in the breeze...all these things at once"

He wrote it better than this but he really understood how many ghosts were exorcised by that victory.

It's interesting that much bigger things have happened since but every City fan I know has that as the pinnacle of their support.

I'm not sure even if we won the league that the emotion would be more than that day.

 

[Didsbury Dave]

Here it is, what I was trying to describe:

Seldom does football transcend the prosaic. It is routinely banal, predictable and monochrome: pass, tackle, pass, punt upfield, miscontrol, tackle, pass, throw-in, corner, pass, stay awake at the back. City's Nationwide League second division promotion play-off final against Gillingham last Sunday was thus, until one minute before the end of normal time. Then, for no good reason, football became your favourite record played at the youth-club disco; the night you first realised you were in love; the afternoon when - elbows in the breeze - you drove your first car; the birth of your first child. All these things. At once. At least. "It still feels surreal," Royle conceded. "I don't think anyone can believe we came back like that. We went through such a gamut of emotions. Someone clearly decreed that if we were to get promotion, it would have to be the hard way."

To recap, City, through Horlock and Dickov, made it 2-2 with goals in the ninetieth and 94th minutes, and then won a penalty shoot-out 3-1. Nicky Weaver, City's 20-year-old goalkeeper, saved two penalties and was so pleased with himself that his profuse and erratic celebrations drew concerned glances from members of the St John Ambulance Service.

As Royle has emphasised since, it should not have seemed such a big deal. It was not a cup final, it was merely City completing a job of work that had caused them unnecessary labour in the first place. "I think I seriously underestimated how much it would mean to the fans. It was as if we had to exorcise a lot of ghosts," he said. Much has been made of the delirium at Wembley, but when Dickov's equaliser hit the roof of the net, there was briefly an extraordinary silence. Supporters were apoplectic, unable to believe their eyes. Shirt-sleeves were tugged, affirmation was required.
"Did I just see what I think I saw just then?" "Well I saw it, too."
Strangers hugged like brothers, children were lifted off their feet; a blue moon had risen.


That's fantastic writing in my opinion.

 

[Gary James]

It's a top book. Mark is a Dale fan but seemed to identify and empathise with us. Not a PR flannel job either, he was quietly damning of Chris Bird and Tueart. Ps, I get a namecheck in the book over a vaguely amusing incident abroad. So it's my all time fave, with respects to the legend Gary James

Don't worry about me, I love to read other people's work on City (and football in general). Mark is a quality writer and I know him as well. In fact I interviewed him for both my series on the history of football for Channel M and my book "Manchester A Football History". The interviews were primarily about Rochdale, his team, but we also talked about the 1998-99 season and what came across was a genuine admiration from Mark for City fans and what we went through. Being locally based but writing for a national broadsheet meant that he was able to put across the 'truth' of what we felt and what we'd endured. This was very important.

It's worth stating that Mark had gone to watch City at times throughout his life so he understood what we knew and felt about the Club.

In 1998 while the Mirror were incorrectly focusing on how we'd 'walked away' from the Club (by comparing our AWS attendance V Mansfield with Utd's attendance in a top European game), the Times (thanks to Mark) were pointing out the truth.

Mark was more or less the only national journalist who recognised this at the time. At the season's end of course others jumped on the bandwagon, but midway through 1998-99 Mark was our only 'national' and neutral voice.

I love Mark's writing - please check out his other books such as "Believe In The Sign" (about Rochdale and growing up).

Incidentally, Mark and Andy Ward (who wrote "The Manchester City Story" in 1983/4) are the only non-City fans who have written about our Club that have got it right. Their work is always worth reading.

 

[Soulboy]

Here it is, what I was trying to describe:

Seldom does football transcend the prosaic. It is routinely banal, predictable and monochrome: pass, tackle, pass, punt upfield, miscontrol, tackle, pass, throw-in, corner, pass, stay awake at the back. City's Nationwide League second division promotion play-off final against Gillingham last Sunday was thus, until one minute before the end of normal time. Then, for no good reason, football became your favourite record played at the youth-club disco; the night you first realised you were in love; the afternoon when - elbows in the breeze - you drove your first car; the birth of your first child. All these things. At once. At least. "It still feels surreal," Royle conceded. "I don't think anyone can believe we came back like that. We went through such a gamut of emotions. Someone clearly decreed that if we were to get promotion, it would have to be the hard way."

To recap, City, through Horlock and Dickov, made it 2-2 with goals in the ninetieth and 94th minutes, and then won a penalty shoot-out 3-1. Nicky Weaver, City's 20-year-old goalkeeper, saved two penalties and was so pleased with himself that his profuse and erratic celebrations drew concerned glances from members of the St John Ambulance Service.

As Royle has emphasised since, it should not have seemed such a big deal. It was not a cup final, it was merely City completing a job of work that had caused them unnecessary labour in the first place. "I think I seriously underestimated how much it would mean to the fans. It was as if we had to exorcise a lot of ghosts," he said. Much has been made of the delirium at Wembley, but when Dickov's equaliser hit the roof of the net, there was briefly an extraordinary silence. Supporters were apoplectic, unable to believe their eyes. Shirt-sleeves were tugged, affirmation was required.
"Did I just see what I think I saw just then?" "Well I saw it, too."
Strangers hugged like brothers, children were lifted off their feet; a blue moon had risen.


That's fantastic writing in my opinion.

You are so right.

I was filling up again just reading those few paragaphs again!

It most the most emotional season I have ever endured, I never missed a game home or away... but I missed the ultimate conclusion that day. But that's another story!

But it was a price well worth paying.

Having read these snipets I'm going to get the book out again and read it... and remind me why, in spite of so much evidence to the contrary nowadays... that City fans truly are "the best fans in the land and all the world".

Well at least they were when they needed us most.

Thanks DD for refreshing these stories.

And maybe the accusers will appreciate that those who question the club as being all moaners and groaners will realise that it's just tough love!

Apart from my kids, no one else can bring me to tears like the memories of that season.

 

[inchy14]

Here it is, what I was trying to describe:

Seldom does football transcend the prosaic. It is routinely banal, predictable and monochrome: pass, tackle, pass, punt upfield, miscontrol, tackle, pass, throw-in, corner, pass, stay awake at the back. City's Nationwide League second division promotion play-off final against Gillingham last Sunday was thus, until one minute before the end of normal time. Then, for no good reason, football became your favourite record played at the youth-club disco; the night you first realised you were in love; the afternoon when - elbows in the breeze - you drove your first car; the birth of your first child. All these things. At once. At least. "It still feels surreal," Royle conceded. "I don't think anyone can believe we came back like that. We went through such a gamut of emotions. Someone clearly decreed that if we were to get promotion, it would have to be the hard way."

To recap, City, through Horlock and Dickov, made it 2-2 with goals in the ninetieth and 94th minutes, and then won a penalty shoot-out 3-1. Nicky Weaver, City's 20-year-old goalkeeper, saved two penalties and was so pleased with himself that his profuse and erratic celebrations drew concerned glances from members of the St John Ambulance Service.

As Royle has emphasised since, it should not have seemed such a big deal. It was not a cup final, it was merely City completing a job of work that had caused them unnecessary labour in the first place. "I think I seriously underestimated how much it would mean to the fans. It was as if we had to exorcise a lot of ghosts," he said. Much has been made of the delirium at Wembley, but when Dickov's equaliser hit the roof of the net, there was briefly an extraordinary silence. Supporters were apoplectic, unable to believe their eyes. Shirt-sleeves were tugged, affirmation was required.
"Did I just see what I think I saw just then?" "Well I saw it, too."
Strangers hugged like brothers, children were lifted off their feet; a blue moon had risen.


That's fantastic writing in my opinion.

Nearly brought to tears reading that.
Funny how i always can remember horlocks strike yet dickovs seems to be such a blur.
Was a day and a season never to be forgotten and makes you realise how far we have come !

 

[Dave S]

Funnily enough I re-read it only last week. Great book, great writing.