quality of football doesn't matter, or shouldn't. they aren't going to reduce the prices if we suddenly turn to shit so we shouldn't have to pay more just because we're brilliant.
We're a manchester based side, the cost of living is lower here than London as are wages so you cant make fair direct comparisons with teams like spurs.
You might not think they're too bad now but how many consecutive years of price hikes is that now? How many more before they do become an issue because there's no indication this won't continue year on year as it has every year since Soriano has been here.
It's the complete out of touch approach more than anything thats bothering people. These figures are probably on the upper side of estimates here but for arguments sake let's say every season ticket has gone up £30 on average and we have about 36k season ticket holders which means a price freeze this season would have resulted in about £1 million lost revenue, it barely even registers on the balance sheet and the fans would lap up the gesture. Instead, they do this. it pisses off the majority of the fanbase, Shows a complete disconnect from us and let's us all know beyond any doubt they couldn't give a shit about the fans. Is all that really worth the extra million in the bank? They'll probably spend that employing some PR firm to come up with a new version of the "footballs nothing without the fans" slogan for next season and some compilation video of the same passionate fans they're driving out.
We're a stubborn, odd lot us old match going City fans. We had to be to turn up all over the country week after week and on the whole get the piss taken out of us on and off the field. We didn't care it was our club and we loved it. The days before internet trolls and sky, Badiel and Skinner and football's coming home, fever pitch and the whole global explosion of football worldwide and in this country. The match going experience back then was dodging dog turds in Moss Side and friendly locals trying to kick your head in far flung romantic places like Barnsley, Leeds, South London and Liverpool. Happy days. The club wanted us back then, oh fucking did they! I remember them pleading with us not to desert them as we slipped to the lowest point in our chequered history, the third tier of English football. As if we ever would. 28,000 of us hardcore fans stayed loyal.This padded out to 35,000 for the bigger games. We packed out our away end everywhere we went. The worse we got the louder we sang and the whole country marvelled at our loyalty and dark sense of humour. While that lot were winning a treble we took 46,000 to a third tier play off final against Gillingham. The next year I paid £100 to a ticket tout to sit on my hands in the Blackburn end and watch us get promoted back to the premier league. Mad crazy happy days. No trophies but we didn't give a fuck because we were all pissed up, MCFC okay!
Fast forward now and we're unrecognisable on and off the field. A bright shiny new stadium and campus. I dodge kids play areas now instead of dog turds, face painters, tourists from all over the world taking selfies and Natalie Pike interviewing top stars from yesteryear and today in City square. I watch Pep Guardiola.....yes Pep fucking Guardiola managing MY football club and playing like prime Barcelona on the field as we dismantle Arsenal, Liverpool and United, clubs that used to do the same to us. After 35 years of winning fuck all I've watched us lift so many trophies I've actually lost count. Can you believe that? I have to pinch myself.
Yet......I still sit here with an air of sadness at times. Mad isn't it? I read about £60-80 matchday tickets, fans paying for memberships and going to all the games,given no priority over somebody buying one the day before and missing out on the glamour game of the season, Real Madrid. Spending hours on the phone or an online queue and missing out. Dear old Bernard Halford may be gone but his ghost still laughs loudly in the corridors of the ticket office. I read of fans being priced out after years of loyal support by increases year on year, until eventually there is no more left to give, no spare change to be had. Time to put that old scarf that's kept the neck warm at York, Walsall and Gillingham into the draw for the last time. It looked a little out of place anyway, amongst the brand new one around the neck of the excited tourists taking selfies as old Bert shuffled sadly by one last time. A slow old man getting in the way. He successfully dodged the dog turds and bricks in the alleyways of Moss Side and Anfield, only to be knocked down by a big fucking bus driven by Ferran Soriano as he shouts in Spanish, "Get out of the way of my progress bus you old ****!" Such is life....
