"We're not really here!"
...the traditional Manchester City fans' anthem of disbelief at a good performance from their team echoed around the Eastlands stands yesterday. And, to be honest, we couldn't believe we were there. There, and watching our beloved Blues rip through a talented Arsenal team in a 12 minute spell that netted us 3 goals, and put the match beyond dispute.
This match was our acid test. Bought by Arab billionaires last year, City has spent hundreds of millions rebuilding its squad. We had three wins out of three, but none against the dreaded Top Four of Chelsea, Arsenal, Liverpool and the hated Manchester United. For all the hype and bluster, could we deliver?
Lousy traffic meant we missed the first couple of minutes, but all the action was yet to come as we took our seats in the highest row, my little girl in her sky blue City shirt...
We took the lead through a bizarre own goal, where Arsenal's goalkeeper palmed a shot onto the post only for it to rebound onto the back of his head and into the net. The stands erupted! All of us on our feet, screaming and yelling! We were up against the Arsenal; one of the most talented teams in the world! And so the score stayed, nerve-wrackingly until the second half.
Arsenal came out reinvigorated, and ripped into us. We sat further and further back, openings appearing in our defence, until van Persie took his chance and buried the equaliser. Was this going to be the usual City performance when we collapse pathetically at the first sign of pressure?
If anyone was feeling the pressure it was Emmanuel Adebayor, bought from Arsenal over the summer. Every time he got the ball, the Arsenal fans booed him loudly. He did himself no favours after van Persie had tackled him dangerously from behind by raking the Dutchman's face with his studs, leaving him bleeding, an incident the referee failed to spot.
Stephen Ireland's unusual ineffectiveness in midfield resulted in his substitution for speed merchant Petrov, and the game was instantly transformed. A break down the right into lots of space, a sharp cross, and the effervescent Craig Bellamy buried the ball in the Arsenal goal. 74 minutes gone, and Arsenal were chasing the game again.
Then, the moment that transformed the game from entertainment to spectacle. Tiny Shaun Wright-Philips on one of his darting runs, provided the most sublime of crosses, and Adebayor rose high to head the ball into the back of the net. The roof was lifted off the stadium by the volume. Then Adebayor ran the length of the pitch and celebrated in front of the fans of his former team...
There was a near riot. All sorts of items were thrown onto the pitch, including a few seats. Several Arsenal supporters tried to get onto the pitch, infuriated by this provocation. Lines of police appeared to keep the opposing fans apart. It was one of those moments where you know he shouldn't have done it, but nonetheless it felt glorious all the same.
Shaun Wright-Phillips buried a fourth shortly afterwards, and collapsed laughing in disbelief on the turf to be buried under his teammates. But even at 4-1, the closing minutes reminded us just how talented Arsenal are. As we lost our concentration, they snatched a second, and could have had a third as a van Persie strike ricochetted off the post. Which would have made for a terrifying final few minutes.
It felt so good to walk out with all those happy smiling sky blue wearing supporters. Down the spiral ramps with the names of thousands of fans twisted around them. Past the Garden of Remembrance where supporters can continue their allegiance after death by having their ashes scattered there. Through the shop, and past the ball that Marc-Vivien Foe kicked into the crowd at the end of his final season with us. Shortly afterwards, he collapsed and died on the pitch in an international match. The number 23 was retired in his memory, and we went to the old Maine Road stadium that summer and signed the Book of Remembrance to a talented young man. I still remember the gates festooned with scarves and messages, including some from United supporters too.
We headed for Rusholme and the Curry Mile! Jalfrezis, Bhunas, Kormas, and Masalas beckoned in the Lal Qila...
A suburb of Manchester with a predominantly Muslim population, always full of life and colour. Young Muslim girls all dressed up beautifully, out for a meal together. The young men, all style and swagger. But girls and boys alike pressing money into the hand of the one-legged beggar as their religion asks them to. Being there made me realise just how WHITE it is where I live, and all the poorer for it. The fantastic outfits in the sari shop, the stunning jewellery, the buttery rich sweets. I miss the mix of a large city, all the different communities intermingled yet with their own identities. Manchester is a special place. As Noel Gallagher once said, "The thing about Manchester...it all comes from here", pointing to his heart.
...the traditional Manchester City fans' anthem of disbelief at a good performance from their team echoed around the Eastlands stands yesterday. And, to be honest, we couldn't believe we were there. There, and watching our beloved Blues rip through a talented Arsenal team in a 12 minute spell that netted us 3 goals, and put the match beyond dispute.
This match was our acid test. Bought by Arab billionaires last year, City has spent hundreds of millions rebuilding its squad. We had three wins out of three, but none against the dreaded Top Four of Chelsea, Arsenal, Liverpool and the hated Manchester United. For all the hype and bluster, could we deliver?
Lousy traffic meant we missed the first couple of minutes, but all the action was yet to come as we took our seats in the highest row, my little girl in her sky blue City shirt...
We took the lead through a bizarre own goal, where Arsenal's goalkeeper palmed a shot onto the post only for it to rebound onto the back of his head and into the net. The stands erupted! All of us on our feet, screaming and yelling! We were up against the Arsenal; one of the most talented teams in the world! And so the score stayed, nerve-wrackingly until the second half.
Arsenal came out reinvigorated, and ripped into us. We sat further and further back, openings appearing in our defence, until van Persie took his chance and buried the equaliser. Was this going to be the usual City performance when we collapse pathetically at the first sign of pressure?
If anyone was feeling the pressure it was Emmanuel Adebayor, bought from Arsenal over the summer. Every time he got the ball, the Arsenal fans booed him loudly. He did himself no favours after van Persie had tackled him dangerously from behind by raking the Dutchman's face with his studs, leaving him bleeding, an incident the referee failed to spot.
Stephen Ireland's unusual ineffectiveness in midfield resulted in his substitution for speed merchant Petrov, and the game was instantly transformed. A break down the right into lots of space, a sharp cross, and the effervescent Craig Bellamy buried the ball in the Arsenal goal. 74 minutes gone, and Arsenal were chasing the game again.
Then, the moment that transformed the game from entertainment to spectacle. Tiny Shaun Wright-Philips on one of his darting runs, provided the most sublime of crosses, and Adebayor rose high to head the ball into the back of the net. The roof was lifted off the stadium by the volume. Then Adebayor ran the length of the pitch and celebrated in front of the fans of his former team...
There was a near riot. All sorts of items were thrown onto the pitch, including a few seats. Several Arsenal supporters tried to get onto the pitch, infuriated by this provocation. Lines of police appeared to keep the opposing fans apart. It was one of those moments where you know he shouldn't have done it, but nonetheless it felt glorious all the same.
Shaun Wright-Phillips buried a fourth shortly afterwards, and collapsed laughing in disbelief on the turf to be buried under his teammates. But even at 4-1, the closing minutes reminded us just how talented Arsenal are. As we lost our concentration, they snatched a second, and could have had a third as a van Persie strike ricochetted off the post. Which would have made for a terrifying final few minutes.
It felt so good to walk out with all those happy smiling sky blue wearing supporters. Down the spiral ramps with the names of thousands of fans twisted around them. Past the Garden of Remembrance where supporters can continue their allegiance after death by having their ashes scattered there. Through the shop, and past the ball that Marc-Vivien Foe kicked into the crowd at the end of his final season with us. Shortly afterwards, he collapsed and died on the pitch in an international match. The number 23 was retired in his memory, and we went to the old Maine Road stadium that summer and signed the Book of Remembrance to a talented young man. I still remember the gates festooned with scarves and messages, including some from United supporters too.
We headed for Rusholme and the Curry Mile! Jalfrezis, Bhunas, Kormas, and Masalas beckoned in the Lal Qila...
A suburb of Manchester with a predominantly Muslim population, always full of life and colour. Young Muslim girls all dressed up beautifully, out for a meal together. The young men, all style and swagger. But girls and boys alike pressing money into the hand of the one-legged beggar as their religion asks them to. Being there made me realise just how WHITE it is where I live, and all the poorer for it. The fantastic outfits in the sari shop, the stunning jewellery, the buttery rich sweets. I miss the mix of a large city, all the different communities intermingled yet with their own identities. Manchester is a special place. As Noel Gallagher once said, "The thing about Manchester...it all comes from here", pointing to his heart.
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Could it be that we're just plain old snobs?