My Dad was a lapsed blue, and was determined not to inflict his obsession on me. For over a decade I badgered him to take me to match. Finally he took me to a mid week game ( I think it was Luton), where we stood on the Kippax, watching the dullest nil nil draw. He assumed that would be the end of my City fanaticism but he couldn’t have been more wrong. I was hooked. He passed on the baton and 27 years later I’m still here with family. My Dad only went to Maine Road one more time before he died.But he took me to that all important first game. For that I am forever grateful.