Andrew Cleaver

Why Blue?

Why indeed is the first question most people ask? I was born in Erith in Kent (same place as Kevin Horlock, but 9 months earlier) – my dad’s family were all Chelsea fans and my mother followed her family tradition by supporting her home town team – Liverpool. My dad had first bucked the trend by supporting Luton Town – fair enough really, it was the first team he saw play – perhaps something told me it was good to be different, don’t follow the crowd etc. But for the first few years of my life I had no particular allegiance although enjoying playing football, as I was fortunate enough to have a large back garden to play in when growing up. Much of my early years were spent kicking a 1977 Queen’s Silver Jubilee special commemorative football about the garden. Or when that went into next door’s garden – a tennis ball.

Anyway, this story really begins one fine, summer day in the late seventies when, at the age of 7, I was somewhat dismayed to discover three large hunks of metal and what appeared to be a fishing net covering the lawn. This turned out to be the embryo of a self-assembly goal which my father spent many irritated hours attempting to construct. Finally it was up and out came the new Wembley football – purchased at the same time as the goal I presume. Those of you who remember the Wembley footballs will recall that printed on them was the name of all the current First Division teams (this next bit should really be accompanied by a drum roll and a rising sense of anticipation) I looked at this ball, rolled it around my hands, words flashed passed my eyes – Arsenal, Liverpool, Everton and then for some reason I settled on the words Man City. That’s the team for me I thought.

And so it began.

Of course I could have rolled the ball around again – to my everlasting relief I didn’t – the other side had the evil words Man Utd – and the top of the ball said ‘Made in Hong Kong’ so who knows what I would have done if that had come up. But my decision was made. At school of course it was a little difficult to explain and City taught me my first lesson in ’81. The locals all supported Palace or Charlton (with the obligatory Rag of course) so you can imagine my delight when we reached the Cup Final. I lovingly created my own flags and banners for the big day which I happily waved around school whilst casually querying, as you do at the age of 9, what round Palace and Charlton reached. Supremely confident we would win, my desolation when Ricky blo*dy Villa performed his party piece was part disappointment in defeat and part fear of the reception I would get in the playground the next day.

Since then I have learned never to expect anything with City, just hope. Dad took me to Kenilworth Road for my first live game in 82; we lost 3-1 – Paul Walsh got Luton’s first – perhaps fitting that a future Blue scored the first league goal I saw. Of course having a father who supported Luton meant that the events of May 1983 were doubly unbearable. Up until ’88 I saw City only when they played in London and then in August of that year came my memorable début at Maine Road. Memorable for all the wrong reasons. City 1 Oldham 4 – Roger Palmer bagging a hat-trick and Lakey missing a penalty. For the last few years I’ve been a season ticket holder and a member of the London branch of the Supporters’ Club and have been able to share the many downs and few ups with other Blues in London – after 12 years of thinking I was the only one!

Wembley last May was the greatest day of my life and not a bad way to celebrate 20 years of being a Blue.

First printed in: MCIVTA Newsletter #520 on