Was fourteen, and away at boarding school. Furthermore, nobody whatsoever in my family was a football fan of any kind, let alone the fan of a specific club. I was already a City fan.
Full disclosure (gulp, here goes)! I had been a Chelsea fan from autumn of ‘66 to autumn of ’67, and was kind of a City fan and a Chelsea fan during that winter of ’67-’68 (I know, that's impossible bollocks, but it was so). How so? Because I grew up in north London. My local team, I suppose, was Watford. But I didn't much fancy them. And Chelsea had this wonderful ball player, Charlie Cooke, and a kind of handy attacking player in Peter Osgood. They played good football. Had a couple of cult heroes in defence, too — “Chopper” Harris and David Webb, proper old school hatchet men.
Why then the transition to City? Because it became clear during the winter of ’67 to ’68 that the family was moving to Manchester (job appointment) and I wanted to actually go and see my local club, stand on the terraces, as I had been doing in various London grounds, and especially Stamford Bridge, for about a year. I took to the terraces like a duck to water. It was everything boarding school wasn't. I loved it, and still miss terraces, although I think I'd find it a bit of a stretch to stand for ninety odd minutes these days, honestly.
Was there another club in Manchester? Well, yes, there was Stockport County, in Greater Manchester. I heard rumours of a third club being around…
We first lived in service flats in West Didsbury, while we were looking for a house to buy. My stepfather lived there first, and we were in London while waiting for the house. But we did stay with him there, briefly. Went out to the local park, got myself into a kickabout with a bunch of lads, was called a queer by one of them (sorry, but that was the exact word used) — wrong accent, on several counts. Middle class, southern. Still, to this day. And still, to this day, people turn round and stare in the South Stand when I shout a bit too loudly. I can see them thinking “ ’oo is this suthern ****?!”
I do remember this, very clearly. Used to go and stay at my gran's in north London from time to time during holidays. She always got the Mail, or the Express delivered to the door. Can't remember which. But I remember opening it up over breakfast, turning straight to the sports page, and seeing with pure euphoria and elation that City had beaten the other lot at Old Trafford, so the title was still on. Oddly, I still have in my papers the programme from the match against Coventry earlier that month, in March, but no memory whatsoever of the match itself. I've always wondered if I did in fact go to the match, or if someone else bought the programme for me.
Very jealous of anyone who trekked up the A road to Newcastle. I still think that the club should do a proper documentary about it, while people are still alive. I can visualise so clearly the crammed cars overtaking the equally crammed coaches, scarves flying, people probably giving the thumbs up or waving. And there aren't many left. I'm not talking about players, particularly, or club staff (although, why not?). The event as seen from the ordinary fan's perspective.
I swear that if I lived in Manchester I would do the footslogging to interview people about it. Then get it properly edited down with the help of someone professional in the media. Sort of along the lines of what Studs Terkel did (if anyone knows his oral history pieces, particularly Working, which I recommend strongly). It is a part of our heritage, every bit as important as the preceding title and the ones that have followed in recent times. And the living memory of it is disappearing, because sic transit gloria mundi…
