manimanc
Well-Known Member
my mum and dad still live on hillock,the albert used to be my local and i lived near mersey drive school,i`m going back to 87-91 when we used to go en masse,ah those was the days....black mamba said:
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What things do you remember from Maine Road?
- Thread starter 51Chappie
- Start date
i kne albert davy
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- Joined
- 29 Aug 2010
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- 11,207
Remember going to my first game as a kid only had b/w t.v.then, and the colour as u walked in from back of kippax was breath takin. mate of my old fella took me great guy called jimmy nixon RIP2/6 t get in shilling for programme we played notts forest 3 nil up at half time forest were bottom of league 2nd half they score 3 finished 3-3 doe,s anything ever change still i was hooked, remember seeing jimmy at wembley after play off final he must ave been gettin on for 80 an asked how he,d got that old watchin these,still miss standin on kippax wiv yer mates always will.
Carefull carefull , i was one of those scroats scowy lolscowy68 said:My first game sat in the old Platt Lane on those benches.We beat Spurs 5-0 and i can't remember many better performances since in 33 years
After that i remember my first full season 84/85 travelling down with my mates from Cumbria and loving it on the kippax.Best day ever was the Charlton 5-1.After that it was many years of bringing family and friends to Maine Road and making quite a few friends along the way.Was broken hearted when we chucked the derby away in 93 after a 2-0 lead at half time,being devastated with the Spurs 4-2 cup defeat and the pitch invasion,even more devastated with the 2-2 draw against Liverpool that sent us down.Possibly one of the best days i remember was the 3-1 derby win and that first season under Keegan.I loved everything about the place though,the pubs round the ground like the beehive and parkside,the little scroates that used to ask you for money to watch your car.getting pissed on in windy corner and the banter with the away fans.
Many happy and sad memories from a life time of following City.
Chev Chelios
Well-Known Member
Seeing Bernard Manning Do a gig at the social club that used to be near the souvenir shop in the mid 80 `s .
mrbandanjo
Member
- Joined
- 3 Jul 2012
- Messages
- 20
With apologies as this post is a copy of one I did on another 'Maine Road' thread... I am posting it again here as this it is more appropriate to this thread because of the 'memories of Maine Road'...
My mum, Jean Ellis (and sometimes my dad, Bob), was responsible for 'the catering'. Both my parents worked for a company called Stadia Catering (owned by Peter Coates who is now the owner of Stoke). On and off throughout the 70's my mum was the catering manager at Maine Road (at other times, Preston North End and Blackburn Rovers). Every other Saturday for me and my sister consisted of getting up at stupid o'clock to be at the ground many hours before the fans to help 'stock up' (by god but the memories are flooding back at the moment). We were also there a few hours after the match to bring the stock back to the stock rooms, because we sure as hell didn't leave beer in those little octagonal bars behind the Kippax. Then it was another hour or so to drive back to Lowton where we lived. Not exactly a typical Saturday for a kid.
I remember the North (New) stand being built and me being given the responsibility, during match time, of keeping the bars in that stand stocked. I remember having my first teenage crush on one of the girls that worked there. She was much older than me and not interested. Her name is on the tip of my tongue, which was the closest it ever got to her. She must be in her 60's now; jeez! Anne, something. I'm sure her surname was also a bloke's first name... And no, it wasn't Anne Frank.
Some memories....
Nicking all the pull chains from the bogs in the Kippax - just don't ask me why.
That joke shop opposite the Main Stand - Did that become the souvenir shop?
Being fascinated by the brand new electric scoreboard.
A testimonial match in which Bert Trautmann played and was still amazing.
Those slots at the ends of the advertising boards where the half time scores from the rest of the division were put.
Joe Corrigan waving back at me and a load of fans as he walked back to his net, only to realise why we were waving and shouting so frantically when the ball went past him into the net - Did he really end up playing for England?
My uncles constantly having to drown baby rats found in nests in the cash drawers.
David Cassidy playing one of the first ever UK stadium concerts, with Showaddywaddy as support. Damn but I was popular with the girls at school leading up to that.
Huge single teabags replacing loose tea in the urns, then they themselves being replaced by the revolutionary, and revolting, Maxpax cups with dried tea, coffee, or Bovril in them. Just add water.
Pie heaters... Oh, and the meat and tattie pies of course. A Bovril, a pie, and a Wagon Wheel and one was set up for the match.
My little sister and I not being allowed back into the ground on a reserve match by some officious little Jobsworth, despite him knowing exactly who we were. We had to pay 2p to get in. I remember my mum going ballistic on the little twit.
Behind the deserted Kippax early one morning and a bunch of local kids suddenly climbing over the wall. We waited till we felt we were far enough away then shouted 'we're telling our mum on you' and running like hell.
Being allowed to sit on one of those huge police horses and nearly having an inadvertent sex-change.
Watching the same police horse climbing up that embankment behind the Kippax (or was it Platt Lane) and scattering some 'nuisance causers'.
George Best being advertised as appearing at every single testimonial, and failing to turn up to every single testimonial.
The Red Devils parachutists being advertised to land on the pitch at every single testimonial, and the Red Arrows parachutists having to call it off due to high winds at every single testimonial.
Being told off by Stan Gibson, the head groundsman, for 'mooching' amongst the seating after a match. Apparently any dropped money was going to be his perk.
Those three huge flights of stairs in the main stand up which we had to carry all the deliveries to 'Bar 1'. Behind bar 1 was the nerve centre of the whole operation. We must have had calves like Sergio back then.
Ok, I can hear you all shouting 'stop already!'
There must be a thousand other memories I could bore you with, but I'll stop now. Yeah, Maine Road was ramshackled and times do and must change, and I don't even know if 'sad' is how I feel about it going; but I am glad I had my time there. Although, as I recall, back then I'd have much rather stayed at home and watch Swap Shop.
Oh, and I have remembered the name of that far off girl of my adolescent dreams - Anne Stanley.
And of course Helen and her bell in the North Stand, how could I have forgot Helen?
My mum, Jean Ellis (and sometimes my dad, Bob), was responsible for 'the catering'. Both my parents worked for a company called Stadia Catering (owned by Peter Coates who is now the owner of Stoke). On and off throughout the 70's my mum was the catering manager at Maine Road (at other times, Preston North End and Blackburn Rovers). Every other Saturday for me and my sister consisted of getting up at stupid o'clock to be at the ground many hours before the fans to help 'stock up' (by god but the memories are flooding back at the moment). We were also there a few hours after the match to bring the stock back to the stock rooms, because we sure as hell didn't leave beer in those little octagonal bars behind the Kippax. Then it was another hour or so to drive back to Lowton where we lived. Not exactly a typical Saturday for a kid.
I remember the North (New) stand being built and me being given the responsibility, during match time, of keeping the bars in that stand stocked. I remember having my first teenage crush on one of the girls that worked there. She was much older than me and not interested. Her name is on the tip of my tongue, which was the closest it ever got to her. She must be in her 60's now; jeez! Anne, something. I'm sure her surname was also a bloke's first name... And no, it wasn't Anne Frank.
Some memories....
Nicking all the pull chains from the bogs in the Kippax - just don't ask me why.
That joke shop opposite the Main Stand - Did that become the souvenir shop?
Being fascinated by the brand new electric scoreboard.
A testimonial match in which Bert Trautmann played and was still amazing.
Those slots at the ends of the advertising boards where the half time scores from the rest of the division were put.
Joe Corrigan waving back at me and a load of fans as he walked back to his net, only to realise why we were waving and shouting so frantically when the ball went past him into the net - Did he really end up playing for England?
My uncles constantly having to drown baby rats found in nests in the cash drawers.
David Cassidy playing one of the first ever UK stadium concerts, with Showaddywaddy as support. Damn but I was popular with the girls at school leading up to that.
Huge single teabags replacing loose tea in the urns, then they themselves being replaced by the revolutionary, and revolting, Maxpax cups with dried tea, coffee, or Bovril in them. Just add water.
Pie heaters... Oh, and the meat and tattie pies of course. A Bovril, a pie, and a Wagon Wheel and one was set up for the match.
My little sister and I not being allowed back into the ground on a reserve match by some officious little Jobsworth, despite him knowing exactly who we were. We had to pay 2p to get in. I remember my mum going ballistic on the little twit.
Behind the deserted Kippax early one morning and a bunch of local kids suddenly climbing over the wall. We waited till we felt we were far enough away then shouted 'we're telling our mum on you' and running like hell.
Being allowed to sit on one of those huge police horses and nearly having an inadvertent sex-change.
Watching the same police horse climbing up that embankment behind the Kippax (or was it Platt Lane) and scattering some 'nuisance causers'.
George Best being advertised as appearing at every single testimonial, and failing to turn up to every single testimonial.
The Red Devils parachutists being advertised to land on the pitch at every single testimonial, and the Red Arrows parachutists having to call it off due to high winds at every single testimonial.
Being told off by Stan Gibson, the head groundsman, for 'mooching' amongst the seating after a match. Apparently any dropped money was going to be his perk.
Those three huge flights of stairs in the main stand up which we had to carry all the deliveries to 'Bar 1'. Behind bar 1 was the nerve centre of the whole operation. We must have had calves like Sergio back then.
Ok, I can hear you all shouting 'stop already!'
There must be a thousand other memories I could bore you with, but I'll stop now. Yeah, Maine Road was ramshackled and times do and must change, and I don't even know if 'sad' is how I feel about it going; but I am glad I had my time there. Although, as I recall, back then I'd have much rather stayed at home and watch Swap Shop.
Oh, and I have remembered the name of that far off girl of my adolescent dreams - Anne Stanley.
And of course Helen and her bell in the North Stand, how could I have forgot Helen?
jalfrezi-crazy
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- 18 Sep 2010
- Messages
- 96
The first time I went the scale of the place, but also the fucking police horses shat me up. I did not want to be anywhere near those fuckers.
Alleys, dog on a roof, being quite scared! Then later having a nightmare trying to park within a 5 minute radius whilst gagging for a piss after a few beers.
Alleys, dog on a roof, being quite scared! Then later having a nightmare trying to park within a 5 minute radius whilst gagging for a piss after a few beers.
M14Exile
Well-Known Member
Sitting between the spikes on the wall at the scoreboard end of the Kippax as a kid.
gordondaviesmoustache
Well-Known Member
mrbandanjo said:With apologies as this post is a copy of one I did on another 'Maine Road' thread... I am posting it again here as this it is more appropriate to this thread because of the 'memories of Maine Road'...
My mum, Jean Ellis (and sometimes my dad, Bob), was responsible for 'the catering'. Both my parents worked for a company called Stadia Catering (owned by Peter Coates who is now the owner of Stoke). On and off throughout the 70's my mum was the catering manager at Maine Road (at other times, Preston North End and Blackburn Rovers). Every other Saturday for me and my sister consisted of getting up at stupid o'clock to be at the ground many hours before the fans to help 'stock up' (by god but the memories are flooding back at the moment). We were also there a few hours after the match to bring the stock back to the stock rooms, because we sure as hell didn't leave beer in those little octagonal bars behind the Kippax. Then it was another hour or so to drive back to Lowton where we lived. Not exactly a typical Saturday for a kid.
Beer you say. I don't remember them selling beer at Maine Road, only Greenhall Whitley.
Smells always stick in your mind. Piss and cheap cigars is what I remember. God I miss the place.
you can add stan matthews to the regular no shows although it was for genuine reasons no doubt, but kept quiet until just before k.o.
From the Kippax the main stand was a constant firework show, never a moment without matches and lighters flickering and thick plumes of smoke curling over the eaves.
The bike-minding backyards of the houses bordering the car park
Passengers diving off buses as they turned onto Platt lane.
Rivers of piss flowing down the terraces with dimps surfing on top
The sparks from the hooves of police horses as they bullied the queues to the turn-stiles
Beswick Prize Band at half-time
The madness of full time as the crush jammed everyone tight at the gate and then you popped out like a cork. Lost a shoe once and found it halfway down the road.
The seventies when it all turned to shit, one eye on the game one on the crowd and then the rat run through the alleys. Hideous
The banana revolution that put smiles back on faces
The novelty of games under floodlights, the glow from them dragging us like moths to a flame, knowing there would be long queues
Geordie fans, noisy as fuck, newly promoted l'pool, their fans with the first obscene chants, watching 2 everton fans climb the drainpipe to the top of the main stand
Most spine-tingling of all, the roar from a 50k plus crowd when City scored, that was something else
From the Kippax the main stand was a constant firework show, never a moment without matches and lighters flickering and thick plumes of smoke curling over the eaves.
The bike-minding backyards of the houses bordering the car park
Passengers diving off buses as they turned onto Platt lane.
Rivers of piss flowing down the terraces with dimps surfing on top
The sparks from the hooves of police horses as they bullied the queues to the turn-stiles
Beswick Prize Band at half-time
The madness of full time as the crush jammed everyone tight at the gate and then you popped out like a cork. Lost a shoe once and found it halfway down the road.
The seventies when it all turned to shit, one eye on the game one on the crowd and then the rat run through the alleys. Hideous
The banana revolution that put smiles back on faces
The novelty of games under floodlights, the glow from them dragging us like moths to a flame, knowing there would be long queues
Geordie fans, noisy as fuck, newly promoted l'pool, their fans with the first obscene chants, watching 2 everton fans climb the drainpipe to the top of the main stand
Most spine-tingling of all, the roar from a 50k plus crowd when City scored, that was something else