So anyway.I suppose that whatever can be said about the match has been said, in a thousand different ways, with raving, raging, ranting, drooling, puking. And sometimes, maybe even some careful analysis into what we’ve been doing so wrong for weeks now. Nothing much for me to add.
OK. Just this.
So I’m in the pub, watching the match with a couple of friends. There’s a bunch of youngsters near me. “United” fans. One of them’s wearing “the shirt”. Whenever they scored, he got up and danced around. The rest of the time, I couldn’t help noticing, he scarcely even watched the match. No understanding of the game, the way it was unfolding. No understanding of football, in fact.
Now I am one hundred percent certain that none of them had ever been within three hundred miles of Manchester. And I just thought, what a nothing club, really. I couldn’t stand to be associated with such a club. Honestly, even if we’d won, I would have thought that, with total conviction.
FUCK THEM. Fuck the rags.
We are MANCHESTER CITY FOOTBALL CLUB, come hell or high water.
Now is exactly the time for us to stand up and say, we are fans, we are permanent, even if you’re playing shit football for the time being, even if you break our hearts turning in this kind of performance, we, with our voices, our wallets, our feet, our balls (including the women who support City especially, because they've got to have balls to support this club, somehow) we support you, we support this club, and we are here for ever.