Over the last 5 weeks, I have known 2 lads lads from Newton Heath hang themselves. One in their 40's and another in his 30's. I have done a lot of thinking over the last few days and it's made me realise what's important to me.
I honestly don't care about the verdict. It's not going to diminish my love of City. I don't support City because of success. Owners will come and go.
Now I was not there for the Aguero moment. I had a load of my mates in my house, in Newton Heath. All rags, but one. My mate Beef was giving it me all game. When Aguero scored, I went absolutely mental. I totally lost control. I jumped on top of Beef and was laying right into him. I had to be dragged off him. It was fucking fantastic, I loved every second of it.
Now, my mate Beef died of bowel cancer not long after that, aged 35. All I have got is memories. They can take the trophies, they mean fuck all. But they are never taking my memories as that's all I have got. When I go back to Newton Heath, the story will be about when I went mad and started hitting Beef. That's what me and my mates will remember. Not financial experts and bullshit rules.
That's why I don't give a fuck. Win or lose this case, I will make more memories.