For one of the first major events in my life, I will always be grateful to my older brother Barry. It was the mid 1960’s, long before the age of the replica football shirt, but one day our Dad came home from work with two football jerseys, bought from the local market in our home town on the outskirts of Manchester. The shirts were red with a white collar and cuffs. This was Bestie’s heyday and the Red’s of Manchester were flying high. I don’t actually remember having any allegiance at the time but I was delighted. I guess he never asked who we supported, we were Irish Catholics, and in that day and age that meant United. Dad’s elation at my excited face was short lived as Barry gave back the shirt and said “there’s no way I’m wearin’ that, I’m a Blue”. Believe me, that was brave, but to be honest, I can’t remember what was said or done after that, other than the fact that very soon there were two new blue and white jerseys.

I was a Blue by default, but a prouder one you could not have met. I lived in that shirt and every day down on the local field I could be seen, now Bell, Lee or Summerbee, scoring goals for City or Harry Dowd saving penalties from the now despised Charlton, Best or Law.

It must have been because of that shirt that a neighbour asked my Mum and Dad if I would like to go and watch City play. City had just won the championship and a friendly had been arranged against Bury to show off the trophy. It was decided that I could go as a birthday treat and what a treat it was, the noise, the atmosphere, the joy and jubilation. I have no idea what the crowd was that night, but I had never seen anything like that number of people in one place, all of whom were spectacularly happy. Everybody was laughing and talking to each other, singing together, hugging and slapping each other on the back. It was truly amazing. After that there could only ever be one team for me. Eight years old but without any doubt I already knew that I was “City ‘til I die”.