I was told, in the pub, the other evening by a rag fan (to be fair to him, he does actually go to games) that (you've guessed it) we've no history. I said, 'Is that so? Could be why we've never profiteered from it, then.'
'See typically bitter,' he retorted with store-bought indignation.
Now, it's not a thing (the air crash) that I ever like to drag into a football argument (it's hardly dignified, is it?) but well, I'd alluded to it and I had to defend it. So defend it, I did.
Before he could mount his high horse and head for the moral high ground, I gave him both barrells... The real history; their wilderness years, Cantona taking money from that benefit game... everything that I could think of, Baldy Bobby peddling cup final tickets, Martin Edwards and the Brazillian brasser...
Of course, he denied everything, so I banged on.
'... not selling out the swamp for a derby game in the nineties, all the way back to Billy Meredith, if you don't mind... you all know it, chapter and verse, so I'll not go on.
'Anyway,' he blustered 'no matter what ye do, ye'll never be us!'
'You know what?' I said. 'You're dead f**king right!'
He probably still thinks he won that argument.