Two anecdotes summing up City in the 80's

Sums up the club at the time, ran more like a pub team than a so called professional outfit. I remember little and large getting off the first team coach at away grounds, they got a bigger cheer than the players lol!

Who remembers going to that school just around the corner from Maine Road and watching Willie Donachie warming the players up in the gym through the windows. We were in the premier league then, incredible looking back.

I remember that having got off the 53 bus at Birch villa and making my way to the Kippax.

What made the idea even more stupid was it was right next to the entrance to the car park and main thoroughfare coming from all the pubs like the Sherwood etc. Bad enough using the school but they could have at least used one a bit more discreet.
 
You’d be walking to the ground from the Beehive and the team mini bus containing the players would come flying round the corner from that school at ten to three
I was behind that minibus on the way to the ground before the Wigan play off semi final second leg.Terry Cooke was staring out of the rear window looking like a stalker. Very strange.
 
Will never forget queueing up for wembley 99 tickets. Took 11 hours and we had finally made it to joining the holy grail of the queue inside the ground.

Dark humour at its best as the stand had been suitably graffitied:

‘4 hours to the Kosovo border’
‘Thank you for your wonderful support’
‘Another Bernard Halford promotions’

Bad days, but great days also.
 
From the ticket office to the souviner shop.and the catering. everything was second class .and dont get me started on the state of the bogs

City was a leading club when Peter Swales took over. Everything that was naff about City in the 80's was because of him. We were a reflection of the cuban-healed one.
 
You have to wonder how we ever survived as a football club during those days. Always remember listening to Niall quinn when he described arriving at the club and his shock when he received his training kit complete with socks that had holes in them.

Would be an interesting read if people like Bernard halford wrote a worts and all book. When you speak to fans of other clubs they can't believe the complete madness that this club constantly throws at us.
 
Typical City.

I remember going to Wembley to watch Northwich Vics play Telford in the FA trophy, the same day we got relegated v Luton, and Northwich fans singing "city sitting down city sittiing down", whilst sat down in the floor.

If there was a cup for cick ups, City would win it every season. That's one I particularly remember.

One of my earliest football memories. Coming out of Wembley after being beaten and finding out City had been relegated.
 
Was it in Paul Lakes book?
It was just found this
From PAUL LAKE, I’M NOT REALLY HERE, A LIFE OF TWO HALVES by Paul Lake
…An assured first half performance was capped with a brace of goals from Paul Moulden and a poacher’s strike from Trevor Morley. Our promotion was almost within touching distance, and so bouyant was our mood that we almost danced a Highland fling up the tunnel at half-time. Adding to our glee was the fact that the club had promised us an immediate no-expense spared holiday abroad if we were to secure the three points and as such were prepared to field a second string side for what would be a meaningless final game of the season.
As we back slapped each other in the dressing room and mentally packed our suitcases, a typically low key Mel Machin expressed caution and warned us agaist complacency, but then a mischievious grin played across his face as he informed usthat he’d arranged for one of his pals to give us a quick motivational pep talk. What do we need this for? We’re 3-0 up, for Chrissakes’ I remember thinking, wondering which former colleague of the gaffer’s was going to get wheeled out.
From the direction of Roy Bailey’s physio room toddled Eddie Large, the Mancunian funny man and City fanatic who, in those days was a huge primetime TV star with his weekly sidekick ‘supersonic’ Syd Little. What followed was the most surreal half time team talk I’ve ever experienced. Eddie wearing a shiny grey showbiz suit with rolled up sleeves, proceeded to dole out individual advice to each of the players using his well known repetoire of celebrity impersonations. So Deputy Dawg ordered me to keep tight in defence; Frank Carson told Nelly to use the width and pace of Whitey; Cliff Richard advised Trevor Morley to shoot on sight; Harold Wilson told Bob Brightwell to keep it simple and Benny from Crossroadsntold Andy Dibble to stay awake. If only the cat had heeded Benny’s advice. He conceded three goals in the 2nd half (no thanks to a defensive horror show in the final ten minutes, and a Bournemouth midfielder by the name of Ian Bishop running rings round us) and the sure fire win that we’d assumed at the interval finished up as a sorry score draw. Mel’s mystifying decision to take off in form Paul Moulden at the interval probably hadn’t help matterds, but we were all to blame for a pathetic 2nd half display.
After the match we sat in the changing room dumbstruck, half expecting Eddie Large to com back in and do his Oliver Hardy Impression.
“Well Boys, that’s another fine mess you’ve got yourselves into…?”
 
It was just found this
From PAUL LAKE, I’M NOT REALLY HERE, A LIFE OF TWO HALVES by Paul Lake
…An assured first half performance was capped with a brace of goals from Paul Moulden and a poacher’s strike from Trevor Morley. Our promotion was almost within touching distance, and so bouyant was our mood that we almost danced a Highland fling up the tunnel at half-time. Adding to our glee was the fact that the club had promised us an immediate no-expense spared holiday abroad if we were to secure the three points and as such were prepared to field a second string side for what would be a meaningless final game of the season.
As we back slapped each other in the dressing room and mentally packed our suitcases, a typically low key Mel Machin expressed caution and warned us agaist complacency, but then a mischievious grin played across his face as he informed usthat he’d arranged for one of his pals to give us a quick motivational pep talk. What do we need this for? We’re 3-0 up, for Chrissakes’ I remember thinking, wondering which former colleague of the gaffer’s was going to get wheeled out.
From the direction of Roy Bailey’s physio room toddled Eddie Large, the Mancunian funny man and City fanatic who, in those days was a huge primetime TV star with his weekly sidekick ‘supersonic’ Syd Little. What followed was the most surreal half time team talk I’ve ever experienced. Eddie wearing a shiny grey showbiz suit with rolled up sleeves, proceeded to dole out individual advice to each of the players using his well known repetoire of celebrity impersonations. So Deputy Dawg ordered me to keep tight in defence; Frank Carson told Nelly to use the width and pace of Whitey; Cliff Richard advised Trevor Morley to shoot on sight; Harold Wilson told Bob Brightwell to keep it simple and Benny from Crossroadsntold Andy Dibble to stay awake. If only the cat had heeded Benny’s advice. He conceded three goals in the 2nd half (no thanks to a defensive horror show in the final ten minutes, and a Bournemouth midfielder by the name of Ian Bishop running rings round us) and the sure fire win that we’d assumed at the interval finished up as a sorry score draw. Mel’s mystifying decision to take off in form Paul Moulden at the interval probably hadn’t help matterds, but we were all to blame for a pathetic 2nd half display.
After the match we sat in the changing room dumbstruck, half expecting Eddie Large to com back in and do his Oliver Hardy Impression.
“Well Boys, that’s another fine mess you’ve got yourselves into…?”

Its beyond belief really. Crazy times.
 

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