Mike Brierley

Why Blue?

Billy Spurdle missed the 1956 Cup Final because of boils. Boils? What sort of injury is that? Not a groin strain nor a pulled hamstring for poor Billy. He misses the biggest game of his life because of boils. But Billy was a Manchester City player, and these things happen. So in came Don Revie and we won 3-1, though not before our German ex-paratrooper goalkeeper broke his neck and carried on playing. So there in one game we have the pathos, the bizarre, the heroics and the glory of Manchester City.

This wasn’t why I became a Blue though. This all happened before I was born and seventeen years before my first match. Once smitten however, I delved into the past and read about City’s history and marvelled at the characters, the bribery scandals, the pelicans and the oddities that filled the club’s history, the ’56 Cup Final being just one stitch in the rich tapestry of a well-iced cake. It was obvious that City had been waiting for me. It was meant to be.

Not that I wasn’t tempted in a certain other direction in those early years. I admit that I went to quite a few of their home games, and yes, I cheered when they scored and was happy when they won and I marvelled at a bloke called George Best as he weaved his magic. The lure of Maine Road was stronger however, and Stockport County would have to manage without me (yes, Stockport. Who the bloody hell did you think I was talking about?).

First trip to Maine Road was in 1973, not the greatest of games, but Franny Lee scored the penalty that gave us a 1-0 over QPR. Maine Road wasn’t really a pretty sight in those days with those corrugated roofs and sickly green stanchions. It wasn’t very glamorous either, not off the pitch, with old blokes eating pies and slurping Bovril, the stench of ten thousand’s fags, youths gobbing all over the concrete and rain dripping through the holes in the roof. Then a column of policemen walked across in front of us and The Kippax started whistling the tune from Laurel And Hardy. So I laughed without realising that exactly the same thing would happen at every match for the next twenty years. That’s the real reason why they demolished the Kippax – It was the only way they were going to stop us doing it.

Seriously though, losing the Kippax is the worst thing that’s happened at Maine Road in my time there, never mind relegations, riots, defeats, lost careers and having my scarf nicked. Where is all the spontaneous wit these days? OK, so it was usually minimalist and obscene, but it was funny as well.

Despite the loss of the terraces and much of our traditional support from raggy-arsed juveniles from Gorton, those of us who do turn up at Maine Road are still as passionate (and desperate) as ever, unshaken in our faith, eyes clenched, nostrils gritted, teeth wide and fists flared (I think I cocked myself up a bit there, anyway just remember the look on Lakey’s face while we were beating United 5-1 and you’ll get the idea). And next season? Will we still be there cheering on our heroes in the Endsleigh? Yes, we bloody well will.

Anyway, here are some observations from the past 23 years.

Most Respected Player: Difficult choice, of course. Late arrivals can be discounted – Gio Kinkladze may be the most naturally gifted player I’ve ever seen in a sky blue shirt, but his long term impact is as yet unknown. Conversely Bell/Lee/Summberbee are ingrained in our history but I only caught the end of their careers. So I have a shortlist of two. In second place Denis Tueart, responsible for my most memorable goal (see below) and countless others. Once Denis had beaten the offside trap, he would tear down on the opposing goal and score. Well, not always, but often enough. He also endeared himself to the Kippax by celebrating in front of us (players who celebrate in front of their families in the Main Stand are of dubious integrity). In first place, however, is Joe Corrigan. In the programme of my first ever match Joe was quoted as saying, “It breaks my heart to say it, bit there is absolutely no future for me at Maine Road.” He was wrong and so were the many City fans at the time who thought that Joe was a fat useless bastard (there is a lesson here, I hope that you are all taking notes). Joe got back in the team and joined the ranks of City’s legendary ‘keepers along with Frank Swift and Bert Trautmann. He stayed at Maine Road for nearly ten more years, played for England, and saved our skins on countless occasions.

Best day & game: City 2 Newcastle 1, League Cup Final 1976
Best goal: Denis Tueart in the above.

Best match at Maine Road: City 5 United 1
Best goal at Maine Road: Andy Hinchcliffe in the above.

Worst moment: City 2 Liverpool 2. Just this very day, 5th May 1996. Sigh.

Best away visit: Stoke vs. City, Boxing Day 1988. The Victoria Ground stuffed with 12,000 inflatable-wielding, fancy-dress bedecked and mostly drunk Blues was a sight to behold, unlike the game, which I could barely see and was lost anyway.

Worst away game: Derby vs. City, 1977. A real balls-up this one. Going for the title, City bombed to a 4-0 defeat. Joe Corrigan complained about the penalty spot and some City fans invaded the pitch. Tsk.

Worst injury: Me. Norwich City vs. City, 1978ish. I raised my arms when City went 2-0 up and only one came back down again, the middle finger of my right hand being impaled on barbed wire on the segregating fence. I bled like a stuck pig, and spent the rest of the game licking blood off my hand. Still got the scar to prove it.

Worst taxi Driver: Any number who don’t know that the quickest route between Wilmslow Road and Droylsden is not via the speed-humps in the back streets of Longsight and Openshaw. Nor those that don’t grasp the fundamental concept that a red light means “stop”. And while I’m at it, what about those cabbies who think that you are the slightest bit interested in United when they are taking you to see City.

Strangest Advice: Burger seller at the Victoria Ground in 1987 – “You don’t want to go around there, it’s full of people from Manchester.” What did he mean?

Worst drink at Maine Road: Greenall’s Brown Ale, 1990.

Classic fashion: Bobble hat, in sky blue, white and maroon with matching scarves around neck and each wrist, flared jeans. 1975.

And finally … Best moment: 23 years of being a Blue and proud of it.

First printed in: MCIVTA Newsletter #191 on