As a fanatically proud Welshman, born and bred in Bargoed (a small mining town in the South Wales valleys), I suppose I should have devoted my football loyalties to one of our more prestigious clubs like Cardiff City or Swansea, but not me!
During the mid-seventies, while all my friends around me started supporting the more fashionable clubs like Liverpool and the Rags, I went for City. I often think back to the day I made that decision, although it as to ultimately lead to twenty years of frustration, ecstasy and a considerable amount of p***-taking, I don’t regret it for a minute, it was one of the best things I’ve ever done. Paul Power’s goal in the FA Cup semi-final against Ipswich alone makes all the heartache worthwhile. I’ll never forget the feeling of knowing we were going to Wembley.
Likewise, the first time I visited Maine Road in the late seventies. We were playing Bristol City – beat ’em 3-1. My dad, who hates football, took me and even he had to admit it was a pretty awesome experience listening to 30,000 fans going crazy for City.
Although since then I’ve watched City on many occasions, my most memorable experience was the 10-1 defeat of Huddersfield. What a day… even missing the turn off the M5 and ending up in some God-forsaken suburb of Birmingham didn’t detract from one of the best days of my life.
Supporting City isn’t easy, especially living in Wales.
From a lone Blue standing proud against the sea of Pseudo Rags, Reds and now… Gooners.
First printed in: MCIVTA Newsletter #435 on
Andrew Willmot submitted by Tomos