Looking back to January 2004, a piece I wrote more as a "match journey" report than a match report. Please delete or move it if it doesn't fit here :-)
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Long ago, not so far away I timidly approached the inner sanctum that is Son & Heir's bedroom, knocked as loudly as I dared and did that kind of just stick your nose round the door-just-in-case entry thing. "Hi Son,". I covertly ascertained that the desktop pic of Carmen Electra was at least not illegal this time although the music destroying the pogoing speakers probably was. Tearing his eyes from the all-day simulated coitus that is MTV Base I steeled myself for an effort in interpretation of teengrunt.
"What do YOU want?" "Well, I was wondering what you would like for your birthday seeing as it's soon" "Wanna go Maine Road" "What for, it'll be a building site by now <fnar fnar>" "F!@k off yer know warra mean, wanna go see City" "Are you sure, I mean you could pull your fingernails out or poke yourself in the eye with a sharp stick instead?" "yeah... whatever." Ah well, at least I got some passable English for once.
The Blackburn game happened to be just before the date in question. Booked flights to Liverpool, there and back same day, up at 5.30am, airport for 6.45, plane an hour later and 30 minutes later, hello John Lennon International. Come home on 19.50, have to be back to JLI for 18.50 so should be OK. Book hire car, no probs. Tell you what, might as well book a hospitality package as well. Ring up City and book a Social package; you get a ticket each, a reserved table and food (from 12.30 onwards) in the Social Club and reserved car parking. 'Ave it! Going well enough. Ring me mam and ask her to get full english on for the morning, she's only about 40 minutes away from Liverpool, because we're coming over for the match. "You're not going to drive there are you?" "Yes mam, got car parking an' all that:-))" "Well you best 'ave a word with Colin 'coz he goes every week and sez it's a nightmare and with your sense of direction you'll never get back to the airport on time." Very fair point. "Oh sod it, can you book us a cab there and back, if we use someone local they'll be able to tell us where we can be picked up after the match, back to you, pudding, chips and gravy off to Liverpool, job's a good 'un and no chance of getting lost:-))" "Righto, I'll get on to the firm that runs me to bingo when it's raining." "Thanks mam." The days of cycling to Maine Road, shoving the bike in someone's yard for a charge of four bob and cycling home after was an awful lot simpler, but how times change:-))
Bit pigging cold on the day, thick ice on the car but make it to airport making sedate progress in the absence of gritting wagons. Must be dear that grit, the way they're reluctant to use it. Check-in and clear security without the need for a medical examination and we're off into the crisp, clear and sparkly sky. Until Liverpool where it's foggy, not everywhere, just the runway area. Over the Wirral is so clear you could touch it but the runway visibility is only 300 metres and we need 500. "So ladies and gentlemen, we're going to circle for a while because the weather people say that it will improve." It did too, two hours later. Round and round we went for two hours. I thought the woman behind me was knitting, turned round to see how she was getting on but ended up admiring a by now very worn looking rosary. "Ladies and gentlemen, the fog has lifted a bit so the captain is going to try an approach and see if he can land. Please fasten your seat belts etc." "How much for that rosary luv?" The BA flight that left 30 minutes before us had to go back after 2 hours so I suppose we were lucky. Got upgraded to a Mondeo, hooray, finally worked out how to stop the bl**dy immobiliser and screaming alarm and waited for the ice to melt from the screen. Funny how nobody even glanced at us while War 3 was going off courtesy of Henry Ford. Still OK for time tho', belt down M62 (gritted - must be cheaper over here), 'phone mam who's convinced we're dead and hasn't started cooking just in case, downgrade full English to egg and bacon bap. Mam so relieved to see us fully functional but has nearly killed herself by smoking most of a full pack whilst we've been memorising Liverpool from the air.
Taxi arrives, we taz off. We sail past the left-hander signposted "Sportcity" but I reckon he's got "The Knowledge" and knows a "short cut". When we hit Moss Side I ask him if he was cabbing when Commonwealth Games were on and work the conversation round to the fact that that's where City play now. "Oh Christ, I wish you'd said mate" We U-turn just short of Maine Road and enter Grand Turismo version of Maine Road to Eastlands but get there in time anyway. Going well then. Cab drops us in a bus stop opposite the ground-ish and says he'll pick us up there after the match. I speculate that there will probably be road closures after full-time so we then establish that he honestly doesn't know what to tell us and suggests we start walking towards City Centre and call the office when we get to somewhere like a pub or something so he can come and get us. Sorted then. "See you later, mate." Do cabbies do irony?
Blag our way past keepers of the main entrance and pick up hospitality pack. Loads of people looking very posh around so we scuttle off.
Son & Heir has left his "well-warm" parka at me mam's 'cause he's "well-hard" and wants to get on telly wearing the adverts for First Advice. Explain this unlikely in the 20 seconds ITV usually devote to us but there's no telling them is there? He's soon shivering like Lassie OD'd on syrup of figs so it's into the City shop for a warm and signature practice on a Visa slip for another First Advice advert on the back of a warm coat.
Show pass to keeper of the Social Club entrance and in for some food and drink. Quite nice really. Got shown to our own table, drinks ordered sharpish. Starters were hors d'oeuvres or hot gazpacho soup (sic) followed by main choices of trout, lamb, beef or veggie cannelloni, all served buffet style except the veggie option, which is special from the kitchen. Drinks, puds and coffee extra. "Would you like to start a tab or pay cash, sir?" I was amazed at the number of people employed and busy. The food was very good but not really a 15 year old's cup of tea so he had Fosters instead.
Right then, just after 2 o'clock and we're off to the turnstile. The credit card size tickets are a new one on me but we pretended we knew what to do 'coz we watched a few people go in first. Son rubs his card over the magic square, turnstile goes beep and he's in. Daddy does the rubbing thing and nowt, not a sausage, b****r all. Appeal to keeper of the turnstile who summons man with computery box thing. Ticket gets placed on screen and screen says "Item not bought". Man with box says I will have to go to ticket office to get ticket verified. Can see queue from entrance A2, is like cold war bread queue, bl**dy miles long. Suggest that joke is a good one. Not amused. Explain that just picked up tickets from front of house and that son's ticket worked perfectly well and this validating thing seemed inappropriate given the circumstances. Man with box stands his ground. Further appeal to keeper of the turnstile 'cause son's inside and can't get out 'cause ticket only works one time. Begin to explain the day so far and keeper takes pity when eyes change colour and body goes green and shirt starts splitting. Keeper enlists passing man with magic pass who listens to story and reunites dad and son very courteously. Top man!
There's nothing to add about the stadium as it is as impressive as everyone sez. Seats were in tier 1 and I guess there isn't a poor seat in the ground. Tremendous. The pitch looks magnificent, is it me or is the bounce higher than normal? Does that mesh thingy in the grass affect the bounce?
I'm sure the match will be covered well elsewhere so little to say of that except that the linesman with the bright green flag appeared to make several scandalous decisions although admittedly we were not best placed to judge. The ref. allowed Blackburn some evil tackling and the game was poorer for that. City were ponderous for a lot of the match. Predictable, lethargic, little apparent effort for each other. Our opponents must love the way we let them get back and into shape before the attack starts. Many attacks start and finish with SunJee belting the ball from his deepish wide setup because there's no-one coming short to link. SWP as sub was too late to make the impact he deserves. Anelka was denied what looked like a nailed-on pen from where we were.
Post-match we came out of the ground and headed to the front of ground, turned right towards Ancoats and City Centre and walked for about 20 minutes, which brought us to the junction of Pollard St and Great Ancoats St where there's a little car park outside a Sanderson Fabrics and Discount Golf Centre so we were able to call in and rendezvous with the taxi. That seemed to be about the first place anyone could reasonably expect to get to us that we found. Anyone know of anywhere better? Anyone able to say how long it takes to walk back to Piccadilly? There's the possibility of picking up the tram from there.
Rest of the trip was wonderfully uneventful. A couple of Ladies of the Night were parading in one place we passed; well I suppose they were Ladies of the Tea-time given the hour. They must have been cold tho:-))
Home at 21.45 with beer well earned. Gone in sixty seconds so that was 5 minutes used up:-))
So a grand day out. Well not quite a grand but a bit more expensive than queuing to pay cash at the Kippax turnstiles. "Dad?" "Yes Son?" "That was a great day, thanks very much." <Dad collapses> "Can we go to an away game next?" <stays collapsed>.
