I paid three shillings to sit in the Platt Lane End for a third round cup tie against third division Reading. With City going well in the league (eventual champions!)we expected a goal feast. City wore an all maroon kit and Tony Coleman, my favourite player at the time, blazed a penalty over the bar in a dull nil-nil draw. No consolation that the boys won 7-0 at Reading in the replay!

My first match was the charity shield at Maine Rd. It was the season after our League Championship and I went with my mum and dad. City won 7 or 8-1 and I was hooked from that day on.

a sunny night the kippax in full song it was joe corrigans debut and my first ever game at the mecca of football, city v blackpool big joe let a very easy goal in , but there began the love affair with this beautiful soap opera called manchester city

city v burnley, sat on my dads shoulders in the Kippax, someone called Willie Morgan playing for Burnley! Dad now 80, my son and I are now season ticket holders in the Singin South stand!!!

Charity Shield game played at Maine Road. Wonderful attacking football with still the most audacious goal from a free kick I have seen.
There was no pre match warm up on the pitch in those days and the teams came out separately. The away team came out first. I still miss that wall of noise that built up from the Kippax waiting for City to come out. “Bring on the Champions”.

My first game at Maine Road was on the 12th October 1968 against Tottenham Hotspur. City won 4-0 with goals from Lee Connor and Coleman. I was 8 years old at the time, and sat on the old wooden benches in the Platt Lane stand. My Dad and his friend used to alternate between going to City one week and United the other but when i started to show an interest, he choose City
thanks Dad — best choice

I’m from Salford where everyone is a red. But my dad was more interested in beer than football. I’d been to Old Trafford a couple of times with my uncle, but as an eleven year old I was desperate to go to football games.

I had a mate called Jeff Honey whose dad Harry was a lifelong City fan, and one week he asked me if I wanted to go to see the Blues play Sheffield Wednesday. I wasn’t sure. City fans in Salford were few and far between, but eventually I said yes. My mum only let me go because I said Harry was taking us and that there was a gang of us going. Part of the excitement was catching three buses, the last one being the famous 53X. Harry led our motley rag bag of ten and eleven year olds to the ground and then stopped off at one of the back street pubs near the ground. Jeff knew the way, but when we arrived at the Kippax there was a vast crowd milling around outside. I’d been so caught up in the excitement of actually going to a game that I hadn’t really noticed the fog.

It was only about twenty minutes before kick off that the game got the go ahead, by which time the queues to get in were massive, snaking back through the streets. I just followed the other lads through the throng of bodies. We were jostled, shoved and trod on but it all added to an unforgettable experience.

As kick off approached the queues surged and police horses came in to try to keep order. I was about three kids from the turnstile when a policehorse’s head came down hard on top of mine. I hadn’t a clue what was going on after that. My mates somehow shoved me through the turnstile into the ground and we made our way up the huge flight of stairs at the back of the Kippax. Being kids we had to worm our way through all the adults, dodging in and out of the legs as we made our way to one of the big white tunnels that punctuated the stand. This was Harry’s favourite spot. He arrived five minutes after kick off. I thought it was because of the fog, but I later found out this was Harry’s routine and he often missed early goals.

I can’t remember much about the match, mainly because it was difficult to see anything through the fog. Of course City being City, they contrived to lose 1-0 to Wednesday even with the great side they had at the time. But as an eleven year old I thought the whole day was a fantastic adventure. I daren’t tell my mum about the crush of the crowds, or getting hit by the police horse, or that Harry went back in the pub after and we made our own way home or it would have been my last game.

A fortnight later Jeff asked if I fancied going again. I still wasn’t too sure because that would have been tantamount to admitting I was a City fan. But I went, and the great side beat Burnley 7-0. In the next game we beat West Brom 5-1. And the Blues have had me ever since. We went on to win the cup of course that year which unbelievably is the last time we did win it. When people ask me how I became a City fan I always tell them it was all down to Harry Honey. They say you never forget your first time.

City had just been crowned First Division Champions that spring, and my dad, Eddie, took me to my first game, age eight. It was City vs Bury in a pre-season friendly. Don’t even remember the score, just the noise, the crowd and the sight of the turf! A true Blue from that minute, and always. CTID.

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”.

My first game was a derby match in 1968 my eldest brother Tony was emigrating to Australia and he promised to take me to a match. I should have gone to the Charity shield match the previous week when City played West Brom at Maine Road (They didnt play them at Wembley),I think City won 5-1 but my brother forgot to pick me up. Never mind he said there a better match next week against Man United again at Maine Road. City league Champions against European Cup winners some of the best players ever were playing, Bell, Lee and Summerbee, Best, Law and Charlton. I was 10 years old and never been to a professional match before in fact I had never seen so many people and never heard so much noise before that day. At the match, I was a bit scared because all sorts of objects were being thrown down the stand, I couldnt see the teams from where we stood so my brother told me to climb over the wall and sit on the bench where the police usually sit, so there I am sitting on this bench with the full match right in front of me when this policeman comes across and tells me to climb back over the wall otherwise he would throw me out (I wasnt doing any harm). The game finished 0-0 and John Ashton who had played a fantastic game in the European Cup final broke his leg. Our Tony still follows the Blues even though he has been in Oz for 40 years.