Why Did I Become A City Fan? Everyone was pushing me to be a red, either Liverpool or the Scum. Cousins, school friends. I was even named after a Busby Babe, my Granddad's suggestion. But City always felt right. I preferred listening about McNeil's team than Atkinson's as I neared the age of declaration in our household, and City fans seemed generally a nicer and happier bunch. Plus, I do look better in blue. Red is far too harsh for my complexion.
So, come the 87/88 season, I talk my casual footy fan Dad in to going to the game against Plymouth. We won 2-1, no thanks to a certain Mr. Perry Suckling I seem to remember. A few months later I asked if my school friends could all come to Maine Road to watch City for my birthday. My wish was granted and I then proceeded to have the worst birthday of my life as we were torn apart at home, just a total of 3 city fans in my class sat there in the family stand, getting all kind of jibes from united fans, Liverpool fans, one Oldham fan, a Maidstone United fan (whom I believe was probably dyslexic) and a Aberdeen fan - most of whom now seem to be United or Arsenal fans, according to facebook at least.
Then we bought some inflatable bananas to teh ground, because somebody else in a blue shirt said it would be funny, in a bemusing kind of way. And it was, though I still don't quite know why. Beats watching what was happening on the pitch I guess, at least most of the time. I saw us live against QPR in the first ever game on Sky. The thing I remember most was the Cheerleaders. Why did they ever stop? Come on Sky, that idea was a winner, teaching me that women really do have a place in the game.
We'd think we were getting somewhere, then be pulled back into reality, otherwise known at the time as Division Two. We finished in the top 5 twice, but no European footy in those days so it could have all been so different. We were the Everton or Fulham of the early 90s. Not pretty, but plucky. Though anyone playing well in a City shirt gets marked for a move to a more prestigious club - Paul Stewart, David White, Garry Flitcroft (yes, even a pre-poultry Blackburn was a bigger draw than the sky blue of Manchester!). Still, doesn't help when your boss does the same, does it, Mr. Kendall? Then our future England captain does his knee in just as International Footy beckons. Still we'd have probably have had to sell him to Liverpool anyway. Lakey summarized what it was to be City - give your all for the cause, with a smile on your face, and earn yourself a Widow Twanky costume at the Christmas play. Oh, how they all loved to point and giggle. If Norman Wisdom was a football club...
And that was pretty much the story until very recently. We won some, we lost more. We bought Gio, and pretty much forgot to buy anyone else. Apparently we almost got Ian Wright and Laudrop, but went for the Neil Heaneys and Gerry Creaneys of this world instead, not wanting to anger the footballing gods. We did get George Weah though, or at least some nice older guy who moved like he was playing in a bath of golden syrup.
We wanted Franny In, then we wanted Franny Out. Later we just wanted to make the books balance, who knows where we'd be if Chelsea hadn't overpaid so much for Sweep. But apparently that kind of thing ruins the game.
Playing for a draw at home, and we basically had managerial diarrhea for over thirty years. The Germans cal it durchfall - literally through fall, and after so many episodes and consequential wipes, the skin of many City supporters was getting a bit sore and irritated by the time some guy from the desert said something about an investment. I don''t remember the more recent things because I really don't think I was actually there, but I am reliably told that it involved European football, an FA Cup, the Premiership crown and a sick swan.
Go on, pull the other one. It's got Helen's Bells on.
