Lucky Toma
Well-Known Member
Never admitted this before on here and this thread seems a good place to do it.
My dad is a lifetime rag and took me to O/T when I was a kid (about three times a season from the age of 6-10). I was usually allowed to bring a mate with me and we would sit in the Stretford End and cheer when they scored. This was around the mid-80s.
My older brother is a lifelong Blue and took me to Maine Road when I was 11. We beat Stoke (I think) 3-2 and everything about the day felt different to my trips to United with my dad. The people around me. The atmosphere. It just seemed more real if that makes sense.
I accompanied my bro again the next home game and we got trounced by someone. And that was it....I was hooked!
City to me reflected life. Brilliant and exciting one week. Crap and depressing the next.
At O/T if the rags scored the feeling around me was akin to 'about time too'.
At Maine Road there was uncontained glee and almost surprise.
That Xmas my parents got me a whole load of United gear for presents.
I mean pretty much everything was United - alarm clock, socks, scarf, whatever you care to mention.
And I was absolutely gutted. I had to feign delight but each time I opened a present I was desperately hoping it didnt have that fucking devil logo on it.
Later that day I arranged to sell every one of my presents to my mate (the one who'd come to O/T with me and my dad those times) for a ridiculously knock-down price of a couple of quid for the lot.
I genuinely feel bad for that now. Considering my mum and dad would have saved for months to buy me them. But....well I'm sure you can all understand why.
Shortly after I mustered up the courage to tell my dad that I was a blue. Both jokingly and semi-seriously he has never forgiven me for it. To produce one blue was bad enough but to now have two...he saw it as the ultimate betrayal.
From the age of 13 onwards (the 1987 season) I was a season ticket holder who went to every away game too.
I was the only City fan in my school (live in Wales) and once got the shit kicked out of me the Monday after our 5-1 in '89 by some older rags there.
City is the thing I'm most associated with by people who only half-know me.
If I bump into someone I havent seen for years in Asda for example the first thing they'll mention is how well we're doing.
I still very occasionally think back to those few occasions at O/T where I used to join in a song about Norman Whiteside and shudder. But in my defense, until you're 10 and over, you really dont have much say in things.
So thats my story. I should have been a rag. But my brother saved me. I guess thats what big brothers are for - to look out for you.
My dad is a lifetime rag and took me to O/T when I was a kid (about three times a season from the age of 6-10). I was usually allowed to bring a mate with me and we would sit in the Stretford End and cheer when they scored. This was around the mid-80s.
My older brother is a lifelong Blue and took me to Maine Road when I was 11. We beat Stoke (I think) 3-2 and everything about the day felt different to my trips to United with my dad. The people around me. The atmosphere. It just seemed more real if that makes sense.
I accompanied my bro again the next home game and we got trounced by someone. And that was it....I was hooked!
City to me reflected life. Brilliant and exciting one week. Crap and depressing the next.
At O/T if the rags scored the feeling around me was akin to 'about time too'.
At Maine Road there was uncontained glee and almost surprise.
That Xmas my parents got me a whole load of United gear for presents.
I mean pretty much everything was United - alarm clock, socks, scarf, whatever you care to mention.
And I was absolutely gutted. I had to feign delight but each time I opened a present I was desperately hoping it didnt have that fucking devil logo on it.
Later that day I arranged to sell every one of my presents to my mate (the one who'd come to O/T with me and my dad those times) for a ridiculously knock-down price of a couple of quid for the lot.
I genuinely feel bad for that now. Considering my mum and dad would have saved for months to buy me them. But....well I'm sure you can all understand why.
Shortly after I mustered up the courage to tell my dad that I was a blue. Both jokingly and semi-seriously he has never forgiven me for it. To produce one blue was bad enough but to now have two...he saw it as the ultimate betrayal.
From the age of 13 onwards (the 1987 season) I was a season ticket holder who went to every away game too.
I was the only City fan in my school (live in Wales) and once got the shit kicked out of me the Monday after our 5-1 in '89 by some older rags there.
City is the thing I'm most associated with by people who only half-know me.
If I bump into someone I havent seen for years in Asda for example the first thing they'll mention is how well we're doing.
I still very occasionally think back to those few occasions at O/T where I used to join in a song about Norman Whiteside and shudder. But in my defense, until you're 10 and over, you really dont have much say in things.
So thats my story. I should have been a rag. But my brother saved me. I guess thats what big brothers are for - to look out for you.