Howard Pheby

Why Blue?

I first wrote about my True Blue experience during a twelve hour stopover in Bangkok airport. Twelve hours wasn’t long enough to head into town and go through the whole passport/visa bit, so I headed to the Transit Lounge to have a few Singer beers and read something called Electric Blue (I’m sure they didn’t have this the last time I was at Maine Road).

I was feeling good about myself. I was on the return leg of the Blue equivalent of a trip to Mecca. Living in New Zealand now, I am about as far from The Kippax as you could get. When my match-going buddy and brother-in-law told me that after the Chelsea game you wouldn t be able to stand in The Kippax any more, I was distraught. My first thought was, ‘They can’t do that’, closely followed by ‘It’s only 13,000 miles why don t you go?’.

The Kippax had been a major part of my life since I was four or five. I still don’t forgive my dad for my first two games being in the Main Stand and Platt Lane (Burnley 0-0 and Birmingham 2-0, thanks Colin Bell!). I made the trip – Wellington to Auckland to Sydney to Bangkok to Heathrow, rental car to Prestwich and my parents house.

Standing on The Kippax for The Last Stand against Chelsea was probably my most haunting memory of a City game. There was a steel band in the centre playing ‘If you hate Man Utd clap your hands…..’ and many older songs that stemmed from the good old days. There was the band of Chelsea fans who came and laid a wreath on the fence of The Kippax, there was an old school mate of mine chiseling bits of stand away and giving them away to the crowd (Thanks Bomber, mine is mounted and sitting on my desk at work). Chelsea were about to play United in the Cup Final, so we were joined (I can’t bring myself to say United) with a common goal (hating ManU). Francis Lee was the boss. The whole thing was awesome.

After this game I was on an emotional high and extended my stay to take in the derby (funny that that memory is a lot easier to fade) and then Sheff Wed. for the last game of the season.

Straight after this game I headed down the motorway to Heathrow. I was having a chat to the guy sitting next to me, a rugby fan from Auckland, as we passed over somewhere we couldn’t see. He talked about the passion the Kiwis have for their Rugby and how much the All Blacks meant to the nation. I smiled. I had just traveled 26,000 miles, spent NZ$15,000 and spent most of the time trying to recover from a bout of food poisoning, to watch a team who hadn’t won a thing for 18 years.

Would I do it again? Absolutely!

First printed in: MCIVTA Newsletter #94 on