It's these sorts of videos that make the hurt of the past few decades worth it all in the end. Watching this video, I can imagine the times when any mum or dad would have turned to their son or daughter with a glum expression on their face and said "well, there's always next year" when a hopeful cup run ends in Typical City fashion, or "we'll be back in the big time soon" when they were fighting back their own tears after another relegation.
It's the sort of thing my mum used to do for me. I can't remember which game it was, but we'd lost a pretty important game under Keegan or Pearce, and a season that had started with so much promise looked like it was going to end in relegation. She held me together as I cried and she hugged me. I could tell her heart was breaking twice as much as mine but she still held back the pain for my benefit - I'm not sure why she did that. I think she was worried that because I was only ten years old at the time, my allegiances wouldn't be strong enough to deal with this kind of pain. But sticking at it was her reward as much as mine.
When the final whistle went at Wembley on May 14th, 2011, there was only one person I was going to hug tightly. My mum. Who had introduced me to City, who had been my rock when my United fan friends had always made fun of my City backpack at school and who made sure that I didn't go to the dark side (something I often resented her for). My cousin, who has been a Seasoncard holder since 2009, couldn't go to the final. I was gutted for him but at the same time it felt like it was my moment to spend with my mum, who had been there for so long with me, making sure I stayed true and blue. My uncle cried down the phone to me, but it wasn't the same as hearing my mum say "We've won something, Rob! That'll do me for another long while now." That hit me. Fast forward 51 weeks and Yaya Toure's second goal away to Newcastle set me and my mum off again. She burst into tears as soon as the net bustled and said "Oh God, we might actually do this!" I said to her, "I know, can you believe it?" Teary eyed, we awaited the visit of QPR.
When Mackie headed in QPR's second goal, I felt powerless. The feeling of hope and joy left me as the visions of Vincent lifting the trophy soon began to fade into a black and white hole of that despair. I looked over at my mum who just had her head on her knees. I couldn't muster the strength to move an arm over to comfort her because losing the title hurt far more than losing that game under Keegan. It hurt so much that I couldn't move or look at anyone. No tears formed, no frown appeared, I just did nothing. But the rest, as they say, is history. Sergio popped up with a goal we'd suffered for so long to see. When the final whistle went, I can't remember who I looked at, but I remember seeing my mum's sky blue mascara falling down her cheeks. I remember bursting into tears of joy like never before. I looked over at my mum and she made the motion to hint that she wanted an embrace we'd waited all those years for. I just screamed and said "Thank you..." through my scarf and my tears. I can't quite remember what she said to me, but I don't think I can remember much from that day. I wasn't even drinking, it's just a blur.
This video was perfect inspiration for the memories I'll never let go of. In the hours after Aguero's goal, I kept saying to myself that it was quite honestly the best feeling I've ever had. And I have to thank my mum for those feelings that were a long time coming. I know that if we go on to win more trophies, I'll still embrace my mum, but not like I did on May 13th, 2012. Even the FA Cup win seemed like a mere victory when I saw the banner with "Manchester City - Barclays Premier League Champions" written on it. It's hard to put into words what that banner did to me when I saw it. Harder than enduring City between 1999 - 2011. Harder than watching my mum's heart break.
Cracking video.
