Grand National day 1972 and it rained all day long. City at home to West Ham – not only would I see Lee, Bell, Summerbee and co but also Bobby Moore and Clyde Best.

Saw the floodlight pylon as we turned past Maine Road and realised this was it: the Blues were no longer the mythical figures I saw on the TV and in Shoot! and the papers. We walked across the forecourt and through the Platt Lane turnstiles.

I bought a rosette (remember them?) from a seller on the way in and we ran down the corner tunnel. It felt a bit like going to the cinema – and of course as at the flicks the good guys will always win, right? – but then the green pitch emerged as we reached the end. Couldn’t believe the size of the place or the noise from the still-terraced North Stand.

City won 3-1 with Rodney Marsh scoring twice and (I think) Colin Bell the other – two of the Blues’ goals were in the second half when they attacked our end so it was even better. Went home happy and watched it all over again on Match of the Day that night, what could be a better introduction to attending games?