April 19th 1997, Manchester City 0-3 Queens Park Rangers in the old division one.
I was eight and only have a few stand-out memories:
I’m pretty sure we were sat in the North Stand because I remember the Kippax looming over us to the left, it was huge!
QPR must have scored at least one of their goals, if not more, at the Platt Lane end as I distinctly remember their keeper turning round to us and celebrating. He was possibly the first man I ever hated.
There were so many noises and smells, and more people in one place than I’d ever seen before, I remember being very glad I was with my Dad.
He’s told me since that after about 80 minutes I asked if we could go home but he made me see it out. I learnt that day that no matter how bad it was this was City and it was our club so we turned up, supported them and stayed till the end, always. My first lesson as a City fan and a pretty important one given what would happen in the next couple of years.