Helen Pickup

Why Blue?

Until I was 18 I lived in Huddersfield, a town with real football tradition that I never really appreciated. I went along to the occasional game, notably the FA Cup game against Bolton Wanderers in about 1976 when I enjoyed the singing, but I was never hooked. I moved to Manchester in 1979 and disliked the Reds but didn’t go to Maine Road until about 1984. I went with a season ticket holder who expected me to go a couple of times and then leave him alone to have a good time – no such luck!

I insisted on going to every game and was a season ticket holder pretty soon. I loved being part of a 30,000 strong family and being able to vent my frustrations by swearing like a docker (probably not politically correct to mention dockers); I certainly used to shock the old buggers in the north stand.

So the games that stick in my memory:

City beating Charlton 5-1 and being promoted. Singing “We love you Charlton” before their goal, and them joining in the pitch invasion. It all being spoiled by the Bradford fire.

City beating Forest in the FA Cup. A fabulous game when City could do no wrong. A game I watched from the Kippax, not an easy thing to do when you’re 5’4″. That feeling of impending doom when they were bound to do something wrong, and they did. Hinchcliffe and Steve Redmond crunching Cloughie as he was about to score resulting in a penalty which Nixon saved (are Tranmere Rovers still Manchester City old boys?). However, we won in the end and every pint of Robbies after the game was well earned.

That incredible game against Huddersfield that we won 10-1. I had friends visiting that weekend. Real football fans who were bigger than I’ll ever be. At 7-0 they were talking about playing for a draw. At 10-1 the pensioners in front were taunting them and shaking their hands – I’d have killed someone. As an aside, what about Gidders (that great, fat, red bastard) scoring in the dieing moments of that FA Cup game to take us to the next game and ultimately the next round.

The game against Arsenal (who could support a team who delight in singing “up the arse”?) when we were cheered off as champions. As I recall it was a particularly awful first half when we were sure to be relegated and went off at half time 0-2 down. Early in the second half four drunks in the north stand, not a place famous for its leadership in singing, stood up and started to sing “When the Blues go marching in…” After a couple of choruses the whole stadium was standing and singing and we got 2 goals to equalise. That’s what being a fan is all about, the power to make things happen.

I suppose the next big game for me is when I went to Bradford after we hadn’t won for a millenium. Everybody knew we would win. The place was heaving with City fans, most of whom scared me to death, and of course we did win.

Since emigrating the games I’ve seen have been a bit more limited. More away games and lots of songs of course but I suppose the best was at Sunderland in about 1992, we won but we nailed them with “We’ve got a job, we’ve got a job, you’ve not, you’ve not!”

Wonderful times and an incredible feeling of belonging and the feeling that if we can just get the crowd behind them we can make something happen. We’re still trying it with telepathy and SW radio.

Up the Blues!

First printed in: MCIVTA Newsletter #153 on