Derek Styles

Why Blue?

It happened by accident really. I had moved to the UK in 1990, from Canberra, Australia (that’s the capital city, full of wide roads with no cars on them, clear hot skies and vast open spaces) with a couple of mates. We had come to the UK to become famous rock musicians (we were all big Maiden, Priest, Purple and Sabbath fans when we were in high school).

We landed in London but hated it (too many wankers) so decided to head north. The final destination became a choice between Liverpool and Manchester, solely based on the fact that the two other guys I was travelling with were United fans (yes I know, I profoundly apologise for both of them) and I was, nominally, a Liverpool fan (based on the fact that I knew bugger all about football except that Craig (Johnston?) had played for Liverpool, he was cool, he was in a beer commercial in Australia and he was a an Aussie). Of course, given the law of averages, 2 against 1, I lost out and we moved up to Manchester.

When we arrived we knew absolutely nothing about Manchester (except of course that bloody United came from there, well Salford really). We drove up the main road from London (sorry can’t remember the name of the road), stopped at a petrol station when we reached Altrincham, bought an A-Z and looked for a good place to stay. Now I don’t know how many of you Blues’ fans out there have tried this method of deciding where to live, but let me just say that things look different on a map than they do in real life. We flicked through the rental pages of the Manchester Evening News with frequent references to the A-Z and determined that Moss Side/ Rusholme was an ideal place to live. It was relatively cheap, it was near some parks and sounded quiet and peaceful. Mmmmmm. We rang some people and rented a house at the Maine Road end of Dorset Avenue. My life has never been the same since.

I would like to say that I saw every home game while I was there but that would be a lie. I saw as many as I could but lack of funds and work commitments kept that to a minimum. I do know however that it is exactly 224 paces from the corner of Maine Road stadium to the front door where we lived, give or take a few steps, and that if you fall off the back of a motorbike while going scarily fast through the Maine Road stadium car park while holding a bass guitar, it really really hurts.

Alas, we didn’t become famous musicians (lack of talent was a bit of a problem). We all ended up working “normal” jobs instead e.g. brake factory, picture frame factory, pubs etc. But, in the process we had the time of our lives. We all grew up a hell of a lot (I turned 21 in a pub near the University with some stripper dressed as a copper rubbing her naked body all over me), we were constantly broke, drank heaps of crap beer, and met some of the kindest and most generous people in the whole world (I don’t know if I ever properly thanked my next door neighbour for the 4 Guinness and the pack of smokes he bought me when I was broke and feeling down, but if you reading this, thanks mate, you’re a champion).

We lived at Dorset Ave for just under a year and in that time I became a massive Blues’ supporter, not only for the team but for the beautiful, passionate, fantastic people who support City. I am pleased to report that one of the other guys who lived at Dorset Ave also became a City supporter, ditching United for a real football team. Unfortunately, there’s no hope for the other one. He returned to Manchester a year later and married a died in the wool Red supporter who’s entire family is redder than a red rag wearing fat bastard on red rag day (bastards).

Well, that’s why I’m Blue, and proud of it. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoy reading the other Why Blues and the rest of McVitee.

To everyone at McVitee, keep up the good work. And to the boys “Go you good things!” Let’s get back in the Premier League and show those bastards what a team from Manchester can do.

Why Blue?

CITY TRIUMPH 1-0

That was the banner headline in my dad’s Football Final. I was 7 or 8 at the time and I thought that “triumph” was a rude word meaning to break wind! On learning the true meaning, I immediately became Blue although I can’t remember who the losers were. I like to believe it was U****d.

We lived in a village south of Rochdale. Dad, grandad and their pals would walk the five miles or so over Chadderton Heights to watch Oldham Athletic (my dad’s brother kept goal for them for a couple of seasons). I remember being taken along once and also a couple of times to Burnden Park to see Bolton – there was a special football train to Bury or Bolton each week and we boarded it at Castleton, the one near Rochdale. If this was intended to persuade me otherwise, it was of no avail for I was Blue through and through, even though Manchester was a million miles away and Maine Road was just a dream.

Then came the war and most professional footballers volunteered or were conscripted into the armed forces. Others returned to their roots to take up urgent vital war work in jobs known as reserved occupations: these exempted their holders from service in the forces. The Football League and FA competitions were suspended and makeshift leagues were established based on minimum travelling between their clubs. Most clubs did not have enough of their own players around to make up a team so they were allowed to use unregistered or guest players. City rarely had more than three of their own men available and they had to rely heavily on guests and amateurs. Of course the Rags were different – they could always turn out a full team of their own players. It was said that they had all been fixed up with vital war work as clerks in the Ministry of Food! Dad and his mates were now working seven days a week and if I was to see any football, I would have to go it alone.

I was about 12 when I invested in a “Tanner Ticket” – an All-Day Ticket (Child) issued by MCTD for what is now 2.5p – and set off into the unknown. City had won 5-3 at Wrexham the previous week (Boothway scored all 5) and I made my début for the return to witness a 2-0 win (Boothway 2). Anyone remember Jack Boothway? I think he may have come from/played for Droylsden. The only “real” City players on view that day were Jackie Bray, a classy wing half, and Gordon Clark, a reserve full back, the rest being guests both professional and amateur (anyone remember A Wild?). The pro’s were paid 30 shillings (