Newsletter #604

This edition is an ‘extra’, inserted midweek due to the alarming rate at which Thursday’s issue was growing! Articles have been streaming in, many very large but interesting nevertheless. Rather than wait ’til Thursday, when it would have been stupendously long (I actually think this issue is probably our biggest ever, despite it only being Wednesday), it seemed sensible to send it out today.

This ‘extra’ issue is mainly made up of memories and experiences from Sunday and Monday – even Cathal has returned for a guest appearance! Additionally, there are three reports of a quite riotous ‘Player of the Year’ evening!

There will still be an issue on Thursday as usual, which will include Peter’s News Summary.

Read on…

Next game: To be announced.

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MATCH REPORT ‘LIVE FROM IN FRONT OF THE TELLY’

BLACKBURN ROVERS vs. MANCHESTER CITY, Sunday 7th May 2000

There were those who were lucky enough to have a ticket to the match and there were those who were not. My family and I were in the latter group and so made preparations to enjoy the game from home.

A rather tense build up had seen me out in the back garden mid-way through Sunday morning; it wasn’t so much that the grass needed cutting, but mentally I had had a number of interesting conversations with my inner self and had decided that I could in fact play my part on this great day by carefully mowing and preparing my own lawn as if it were the playing surface itself at Ewood park. The rationale being that I was in fact doing my bit to help. I couldn’t quite be there but I could help prepare the playing surface. For those of you who were there or who saw the game on TV I think you’ll agree that I did a good job.

The champagne that had been put in the fridge before the Portsmouth game was still there, along with plenty of bottles of Uberland export beer that had been purchased the day before. My brother Paul stopped off at Asda on the way down and bought some Boddingtons (the cream of Manchester) and another bottle of Champagne; you should not interpret this as over optimism; in fact I had issued a family directive that until the whistle had gone in both games and we knew if we were up, the champagne was not to be opened. My own forecast had been for a 2-0 Ipswich win and a City draw.

It was with a mixture of excitement and nervousness that we sat down with beer in hand to watch the Sky coverage from 12.00 o’clock. The start of the TV coverage was, as ever, excellent. A great series of images flashed across the screen with such bold headings as “FINAL RAID”‘ and “TARGET PREMIERSHIP”.

It was excellent and true I think when the commentator said almost as his first words – “Manchester is quiet”, quite an astonishing admission I think from Sky that Manchester people watch Manchester City and not Dumplington Rovers. As the cameras swept across the Blackburn landscape, we saw a group of hardy City fans establish their camp on a grassy knoll outside the ground. This group were to become a much celebrated one in Monday’s national press and did, I think, capture the spirit of Manchester very well.

Whilst the pre-match preparations were underway we made sure of course that as many rituals had been followed as possible. I had dropped my trousers to let them rest around my ankles, only too aware of what could happen if I had not done this ritualistic (and faintly enjoyable) symbolic gesture. Whilst the build up built up, the scenes on TV were a joy to behold and we laughed out loud as the cameras showed scenes from East Anglia, outside Portman Road and then alternately from Blackburn’s Lancashire ground. The contrast was amusing and huge. Whilst the Ipswich fans queued rather sedately to enter the ground and a picture was beamed of a small boy almost embarrassingly blowing up a balloon, against the backdrop of a rather pathetic inflatable Postman Pat type figure, the scenes of the City fans could not have provided a greater contrast.

I think the local vernacular would describe the activities as “larging it”. Noisy, beer carrying, in your face, confident, swaggering Manchester people – we were so proud of them. The brash natives – Manchester’s finest, were going to enjoy themselves no matter what happened and if the pundits said it once, they said it again and again about how the premature celebrations at Maine Road after the Birmingham game could backfire. Don’t they understand anything? They were not premature celebrations – it seems to me that the Premier has got used to the comfy sedate images relayed from scumland; the people that Mr Ferguscum describes as the crisp-eating day trippers. Well at Maine Road, Manchester we know how to enjoy ourselves and going on the pitch at the end of the season is what we do and long may it continue.

We drank our beer and feasted on sausage rolls, sandwiches, crisps etc. as for the 1000th time we worked out what the various results would mean. It was with some excitement that we watched the teams come out. In time honoured fashion, I won’t go on about the game – you know the result and the papers gave plenty of coverage and accounts of it on Monday. What I would say is that to all intents and purposes the game was a home game for City – what a noise the City fans made and what an important part they played in that game and indeed have done all season in lifting the team.

City fans were very loud and whilst we did seem to get back much of the luck that had deserted us over the last 20+ years, we held on for almost all of the first half until Blackburn hit a decent goal to lead 1-0 at half time. We were not too concerned with that as the yokels down in East Anglia were at 0-0. We were though, I have to say, concerned when we heard that Johnson had put them a goal in front.

All concerns were banished though in a 30-minute firestorm when we blitzed our way to the Premier; Goater, Kennedy and Dickov and well as a great home goal saw us romp home to at long last give Manchester a Premiership team. The Uberland lager was replaced with Boddingtons as the second goal went in and I have to say with nine minutes to go and Blackburn needing to score four, the champagne cracked open; despite my earlier directive, it was now clear that not even City could blow this one.

City fans were dancing at Blackburn and the commentator described the dance as a “conga of celebration”. It was fantastic. Meanwhile, over at Ipswich, the scenes were quite the opposite as families made their way back to tractors and hay wagons and headed back to their homesteads. Tough for them again, but that’s football. We watched the majestic scenes as the whistle went and the pitch was flooded with blue; was this really an away game?

The images from Blackburn were fantastic; for once the Sky commentators seemed to accept with good grace that we had done it and Joe Royle himself captured it best when he said that the Premiership deserved Manchester City as much as Manchester City deserved the Premiership.

My 11-year-old son summed it up neatly when he said quite innocently “are we all drunk now?” With that excellent and innocently asked question we went and sat outside in the garden, opened more champagne and savoured the prospects of the big time. A little later my daughter took a call from a friend telling her that a few people were gathering at the Academy. With no more ado we ordered a cab and made our way down there to join in the noisy, slightly drunken celebrations in the sun. The taxi driver was a Red, but claimed to be glad that City were back. I thought that odd as I can’t wait for the scum to collapse (as one day they will) but in fairness he wasn’t all bad as he put up with our Red-baiting quite well and as a gesture to the occasion turned his meter off for the final part of the journey.

There really was great atmosphere as City fans partied in the open air. I don’t think I have ever seen as many people wandering around with bottles of Champagne, there was a great camaraderie, great sights – the white transit van that went up and down a couple of times with the lads dancing on the top, the police van that had the beer swilling lads on hanging off the back. It was just great.

In a case of mistaken identity we struck up a conversation with a guy who called himself Revolting Blue and his mate (who I think was called Barry). We went to The Gardeners and whilst sat in the spacious, landscaped open-air water gardens, swapped stories of the day. Revolting, who I understand reads the MCIVTA and is a regular on Blueview, also told us why he’s called Revolting; apparently it’s to do with some rather large magazine collection that he has built up from trips abroad and to newsagents – you may want to ask him about it if you catch him on Blueview.

Anyway after an hour there we made our way to the centre of Manchester and enjoyed ourselves outside the Midland hotel singing and dancing for a while before making our way home to end what had been a great day for City and a great day for Manchester. Our journey home was enhanced by the bus driver waving us on without payment as he showed his Man City lapel badge, and then finally a healthy portion of chips completed a special day.

As a special testimony to the game, pictures of my pants, including never before seen shots of them around my ankles, taken live during the game, will be uploaded to my web site at weekend (available from Saturday morning). There will also be a few pictures from outside the ground and outside the Midland hotel. Work pressures mean I can’t get it done any sooner.

You can check the website out at: <http://members/xoom.com/bluenews/>

The Blue Moon is shining.

Tony Burns (tony.burns@cwcom.net)

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BLACKBURN 2000

Two words which now take their place in the hearts and minds of all City fans alongside Charlton ’85, Bradford ’89 and Wembley ’99!

The day started when Geoff and Clive, fellow members from the Beverley & District CSA, picked me up at home about 9.30; on leaving house reminded wife to paint a room (see later!).

Picked up the fourth member of our little gang for the day, Dom, only pausing for the ceremonial photograph taken by Dom’s missus; Blackburn here we come! By the way, Dom was the “SAS man” immortalised in Tony O’Leary’s Birmingham match report in last Thursday’s MCIVTA, but he wasn’t quite as neurotic at this one and he had cut-down combats on this time!

Nice quiet drive down the motorways and being surprised when we passed Manchester that we didn’t pass a lot of City fans – not to worry, maybe we were early and the Blues would obviously be annexing Blackburn for the day! Geoff was driving as he was the unlucky one who had a ticket in the Blackburn end and had decided to stay sober for the day – sorry Geoff, don’t mean to rub it in!

Arrived in Blackburn about 11.30 or was it really Manchester in disguise?! Hard to tell really as there were so many Blues; parked car in school (many of you will know the one as it was full of City fans); walked down road towards Ewood Park; first pub we passed not open yet; next was hotel which was open (again many of you will know the one as there must have been a few hundred Blues in/outside it) – cue 20 minute wait at bar resulting in double order of 8 pints.

Great scenes watching all the Blues go by – the Mexican/Peruvian group, the stretch limo etc. – the odd Blackburn fan also passed and received a warm and generous applause(!) from the hordes of City fans.

One-ish – time to wander down Maine Road to the ground… err sorry whatever the road was called that resembled Maine Road on a Saturday home match, again with the odd Blackburn fan in attendance – nice of them to turn up at our party… but who invited them?

Kick off; fair start to the game, neither side looking particularly keen or inspiring and then Blackburn turned it on big style; header against the bar, thundering 20-yard shot against the bar, flicked header just wide, Nicky having to make a couple of great saves – this was not in the script. The goal was obviously coming but it was disappointing that it was so close to half-time. Hearts begin to sink and the crowd were noticeably quieter and you could even hear the Blackburn fans sing. Ipswich are drawing so that was something, but we knew it was only time before they would score and sure enough the news filtered through just after the 2nd half resumed.

We were hoping that Joe had given them one of his half-time roastings and they would come out blazing for the 2nd half, but it didn’t happen like that. Lovely curled shot pops past Weaver and we all hold our breath only to see it hit the post and bounce back into Nicky’s grateful arms – turned to mate and said surely we had to make something of all this luck; again didn’t quite happen as they hit the post again – this wasn’t looking good and thoughts of the play-offs entered the mind and letting it all slip at the last minute – feeling a bit numb but knowing it would only take 1 goal for us to turn the game, our season, our future around. We could still do it.

By now Pollock off, Bish on; Taylor off, Dicky on; Blues stirring again and singing their hearts out; the game suddenly turned, Horlock flicks one across and who pops up but the Goat, 1-1; cue wild abandon all over the ground and Ewood shakes to the tune of “Feed the Goat”; next thing Edgy pumps hopeful ball upfield and Dailly suddenly heads it past advancing ‘keeper – maybe Dicky can get on the end of it, but hold on it’s going towards goal, but surely Dailly will get it as he chases back? What seemed like an age later we suddenly realise Dailly won’t get to it and it’s 2-1 – thank you Mr Dailly! Cue wild abandon all around the ground and Ewood rattles to the tune of “Blue Moon” and almost half the ground seem to be stood up, arms aloft and singing.

Next thing the ball gets flicked across their goal and you can see Kennedy waiting to pull the trigger – 3-1. Cue wild abandon all around the ground. “Blue Moon” and “We’re going up” shake Ewood again. Surely that would be enough as they had to score 3 now to deny us – still I didn’t join in “We’re going up” as I didn’t want to tempt fate – this was City after all, but deep down I knew, and I think the rest of us knew, that this team/this squad are made of sterner stuff than that and they weren’t going to let this one go.

Next thing Dicky’s through and bearing down on goal – 4-1. Cue wild abandon all around the ground, again. The other 3 goals had seen me jumping all over the place and hugging mates, but this one was different, partly because that was definitely it, we were up, but also because the SAS mate had put a bet on City, at 100-1, for a 5-1 win and when the fourth went in we simply turned to each other, massive grins on faces, and said 1 more! We had ridiculed him somewhat with his bet, but hell it looked like he might have last laugh but who cared, we were up. No hesitation this time, I was belting out “We’re going up” with the rest of Ewood.

Game petered out after that, much to annoyance of SAS mate who was screaming that they weren’t trying for the fifth and that they owed it to him – I told him not to be greedy and that he would have settled for 4-1 at half-time!

“Blue Moon”, “We’re going up”, “City are back”, “Who the F**k are Man Un**ed”, “Are you watching Alan Brazil” (which, disappointingly didn’t seem to be heard when I watched recording of match next day – apart from when the lads were singing it in the dressing room – nice one!) and probably best song of the day and probably only time we will want to sing this in the future “We’re not going to Wembley” belted out by Ewood.

The whistle and that’s it – cue pitch invasion. What an atmosphere, what noise – it was fantastic being there, being part of it and I knew we were making lots of noise but with all the noise, all the Blues and the score it was easy to forget that we were supposed to be away! Watching recording of match next day it struck me that we were the away team/fans yet all you could hear were Blues and what a noise.

Stuck in top tier of Darwen end so didn’t get on pitch, but took it all in from stands. Meet up with Geoff, who had managed to sit nice and quiet in Blackburn end. Short drive to a pub in the country and a few relaxing pints. It was as if a massive weight had been lifted off my shoulders, could finally relax and think of next season – but not right now, time for that in a couple of weeks, time to savour this first.

All four of us are on the mobiles to mates and loved ones just to talk about it. I finally got through to wife to check she had taped the whole thing (despite my instructions not to tape it so as not to jinx it!) – she understands me well and had taped everything! Did you do the painting I asked and she confirmed she had touched up one of the rooms so that counted – she’s painted 4 rooms while I have been out at matches in past month or so; 3 when we were at home when we won and 1 when we were at Grimsby when we drew and so putting 2 and 2 together and as we only needed a draw – logical conclusion she has to paint a room while I’m at Blackburn! She now knows that next season she has to paint every time I’m at a match!

Me and Dom got dropped off at The Wilton just outside Middleton and had a pint while waiting for my sister to pick us up and take us back to Manchester – nice chat with some Blues and couple of Rags as well (must have been up from London for the day!), who congratulated us and said they were City for the day – my Rag brother-in-law had said the same – and none of this “..’cause it’s 3 easy points for Un**ted next season” either.

Later on down to Albert Square with Dom, dad and sister to take it all in with the massed congregation of Blues – this was finally the day when City reclaimed Manchester. For good. Pubs that were open run out of beer in Albert Square and so I think we can safely say that Blues had drunk Manchester dry!

Cheer from near Central Library so we wander up to see what’s going on and there must have been a couple of thousand Blues outside the Midland Hotel and some of the players and Joe were on the balcony – wow, will this day ever end! Bish had a megaphone but couldn’t hear what he was saying above all the noise and they then took it in turns. “Blue Moon”, “We’re going up”, “City are back” and “Feed the Goat” drowning Manchester in noise. The Goat hadn’t come out and the crowd were going mad screaming “Feed the Goat” and Dicky then says “Shaun isn’t here, he’s gone home”, but we didn’t care “Feed the Goat”! My dad mentioned that Shaun’s wife was ill so that explains why he wasn’t there – understand she’s now better. I hear she’s expecting so hope everything goes well and who knows maybe we will have The Goat mark 2 in 17 years or so!

Jeff Whitley gets the megaphone and is obviously waiting to say something, so lots of hushes and crowd goes quiet while Jeff says two words which cause the decibel levels to be turned up even more… “Blue Moon…” and you couldn’t hear the rest of what he was singing as he was joined by the thousands of Blues! Nicky had some “Cabbage patch-doll” type big head on while trying to speak! – it looked the same as the one a big City fan had on the pitch at Ewood.

Eventually got back to my sister where I had a bed for the night – the wife had been warned not to expect to see me until Monday if things went well! Couldn’t quite manage the lift to train station from sister at 7.30 Monday morning but I managed to get up to tell my 9-year-old nephew, who nearly a year ago was in tears at Wembley when Super Bob banged Gillingham’s second past Nicky, to large it big style when he got to school.

Just before my Rag brother-in-law dropped me off at station, I recalled to him an incident almost 2 years ago to the day, when I was sat on the back step of my sister’s house looking out into the garden but not really looking anywhere and not really feeling anything but complete numbness – we had just beaten Stoke but it wasn’t enough – who would have thought that two years on we would be back in the Premiership? I certainly didn’t think it would come that quickly and that we would have two memorable days to rank up there with the best of them.

Thank you Joe and Willie and David and all the players and everyone else behind the scenes. I won’t thank the fans because the players, Joe and the club have done that enough over the past couple of seasons and because we don’t need it – unlike some other fans we aren’t in it for the glory, to jump on the bandwagon, just to see another trophy added to the cabinet, because it’s easy – we’re in it because we don’t know anything else and we don’t want to know anything else, sure we would all like a bit of glory, a trophy – but we’ll be there next season and the one after that and after that etc because we can’t not be there; like the squad we now have, it’s just not in our nature to give it up – ever.

Got home (Hull) about 2pm Monday in time to watch all the match and celebrations on tape. Sky still doing their premature celebrations bit in pre-match build up and while I still screamed at the TV that that wasn’t what we were doing I quickly followed it with a “F**k you – we went up anyway”! Just about started to sober up and Dom came round for a beer and to watch a few of the highlights before we went off to our CSA meeting – coincidence it was right after the Blackburn match but what timing; more or less a full turn-out; grins all round; memories all round; beer all round – another hang-over calling.

City are back!

Tom Farrington (taf@rollits.co.uk)

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REFLECTIONS ON SUNDAY

Sunday May 7th, 8.30 pm and a capacity crowd of 4 in the Back Room. That’s myself, Gareth, Roger and Elizabeth. Now, Elizabeth’s American and has always been made aware that her limey boyfriend followed some strange “soccer” team, but I don’t think the full ramifications hit home until the last few weeks. Still, I’m not as sad as Gareth, he’s going out with an Indian girl just because her name’s Sitti!

Anyway, a very scary moment when we couldn’t get the modem to work, and needed a last minute replacement in terms of Elizabeth’s laptop. So, 10 minutes late, and it’s Planet’s commentary and Casey’s chatline. Now, I’ve never met Casey but, as his comments come through about sixty seconds quicker than the commentary, I always envision him as some sort of Gary Kasparov figure directing the play. Blo*dy Hell mate, do you have to put us through the mill all the time?

Anyway, you guys know the game’s details better than I do, but it was extremely quiet and nervous in Singapore for that first hour. I think it was at this point that Casey decided we’d suffered enough and generated some goals for us (though typing “2-1 Dailly” caused some confusion).

As we don’t have an Ewood Park to invade, we decided the pub was the next best alternative, with a number of verses of “Blue Moon”, “Feed the Goat” “Posh Spice is a Slapper” and “Ryan Giggs is Illegitimate”, some banter with the Rags (from Kent – typical), and being told by some guy that ours were the first City shirts he’d ever seen in Singapore – “Just give it 12 months, everyone will have one” was the reply.

So, though I only managed one match all season (Tranmere A) and only saw one televised match (Leeds), this has been a great season to be a Blue, and I’d like to say a big thank you to Ashley, Casey and anyone else who keeps me in touch.

P.S. Congratulations on getting to 600.

John Riley a.k.a. Hong Kong Bluey (hongkongbluey@hotmail.com)

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FIVE (AND A HALF) GO TO WEXFORD

Daughter Number Two, Rachel, and husband Steve, together with Katie, two-year-old focus of all our hopes and fears, rolled into Dublin on Friday night.

“We can’t go to the cottage tomorrow” says Rakes “unless we find a pub with Sky 2”. “Course we will” say I, lying through my teeth. I’d figured it was the hurling final and as Wexford is a big county for the clash of the ash, the chances of finding a pub with an FL1 soccer match on screen were rare as brass rubbings of Superman.

We drove down in convoy because we were all going our separate ways after the weekend. Going over the bridge at Enniscorthy we spied a guy in a blue shirt (Brother) and beeped him but to no effect. Say “Hi” next time, man. Arrive, open Indo, find hurling is next week. So it’s into Roches on Saturday night, buy pints for resident piper and box player and open negotiations with the lovely Eileen who says “No problem” even though her pride and joy is a Rag.

Up early next day for big fry, Clonakilty pud, yum! And world’s best bacon; take a bow Leo in Wellington Bridge. Dress in gear me, lucky Dennis Tueart shirt (No.7 of spare set made for 1976 final), Steve, curious early Superbia in proelio job, Annie in tasteful pale blue T, baby Katie in full kit and Rakes in fetching blue and white preg tent. Spend rest of morning on Duncannon beach trying to build sandcastles for K. while stomach is in knots. Nice lady next door says “hubby and I have season tickets for OT, we hope you don’t go up”, threaten to kick her windows out in the nicest possible way!

I walk round beach observing all things lucky and unlucky, avoid anything in groups of three. Steve, Rakes and I discuss Great Cockups We Have Known Number 247 in a series and will Bishop get on the pitch. Annie reads Steve Hattenstone in Guardian in an attempt to fathom why we are what we are. At one o’clock we present ourselves at Roches; usual warm welcome, Eileen explains our presence to locals and then keeps pub open all arvo as a tribute to our dedication. Local Rags quit pool table (“the sharp end of the cue goes at the front, lads”) to ask what S in P means. Steve says it’s a misprint, should read “Superba in goalio”, a tribute to our Nicky. I say it’s the Latin for “Great for the first twenty minutes” which subsequently proved too close for comfort.

Brazil oh no! Team sheets appear, we read Blackburn one and say “What the hell are they doing down there?” Steve and I both rate Matt Jansen, but so does Nutty Brazil so he’s probably going to have a crap game.

Match starts, we seem to be doing okay. Fat Bob backs into Goat a couple of times but this confuses Rovers as much as it does us. Super Kev, Whitley and Danny are grafting away, Jobbo and Spencer look calm and Reg is, well Reg. Kennedy has not much on, we seem to like whacking high balls up the middle. Suddenly they start to bite and wingers cause problems and Flitty is as sharp as we remember. Nicky, God bless him, keeps us in the game with 3 or 4 stunning saves. But bing, bang, bosh, the post keeps getting whacked and just before half time they score, a marvellous strike from wee Matty. Nutty talks of “the right psychological moment”, sod off.

Get more Guinness in. News. The jolly ploughboys go one up. Oh no! Jamie goes on one last totally unskilful amble down the right wing and Joe pulls him off, great and Super Fat Bobby too, shame in a way, I enjoyed the chants of “Scotland’s Number One”; typical Blue humour! Talismanic Bish comes on and little stroppy Dickov – all is not yet lost. I’m down, but were not out. We sing “Feed the Goat” and “Super Kev”, good and loud and the lads in the pub clap, even the Wexford Rags. An old-timer comes across to talk of Bert and Frank Swift, sorry mate, talk to you later but I’ve got to concentrate. More pints and bladder starts scraping on rib cage, maybe a wazz will change our luck. I’ve barely got the second button undone when Annie starts banging on bog door “Ernie, Ernie, Ernie, we’ve scored, we’ve scored!” Shout “Yessssssssssssss!!!!!!” and corrugated roof falls off shed. I watch the replay and lift the tiled roof of the bar as Kev crosses and Goat slides home the equaliser. More pints, please, Eileen. Rakes jumps up and is in severe danger of giving premature birth to Grandchild No.2. She has to walk round outside. I mean, I’d like to be solicitious but you wouldn’t expect me to miss even a nanosecond darling? “No dad, of course not”. Brave girl.

Terry Heilbronn is a great ref. Now Bish is spraying passes everywhere and our tame Jack Russell is snapping at the heels of everything in sight. Kennedy’s starting to play and Super Kev and Whitley are collaring everything. Lads, we’ve got this, I think, say I, consolidating my reputation as a prophet. Expensive flop Dailly heads past his ‘keeper, ball trickles over line at about 2mph followed by a wind-assisted Dickov. More pints, more singing. Kennedy (great strike) and Dickov get two more and I can at last tell man I actually saw Swifty play, but only in a testimonial. Kev is awesome, he’ll do next year I think. Katie falls asleep in pushchair, she’s confident, great to be a 2 year old. Wow it’s over, stuff Ipswich anyway, what did they do? Another match and we’d have overtaken Charlton.

We were lucky, but you need luck to offset spawny pennos like at Pompey. Joe is most impressive. Great to see Andy again, where would we have been without him? Yeah, okay, thanks Eileen, yes, one for the road.

I’ve got to cook a dinner, don’t feel like eating or drinking, but come the hour, come the man as they say. Go for walk alone on beach and write CTID in sand, huge. Go home and hug everyone who’s near and dear to me. Cry a lot. Want to send emails to McVittie crowd but no internet caf