Having just started employment in manchester 2 days ago, I was supporting Newcastle the northern team (as I am a Scot). Lee won pen and City won 2-1. Couldn’t understand why a poor team like Utd got more fans than City but soon learned.

I was about 2 or 3 years old, my older brother was looking after me and wanted to go to the game! That he did with me in tow! I remember being at the front in the Kippax and a policeman speaking to me. I have been told that my mum went ballistic however my brother never missed a home game then and still doesn’t miss any now!

I became a City fan the day that Colin Bell was transferred from Bury (he was my favourite player at that time and remains the best I have ever seen. Because of my age I was not allowed to go to Main Road. When City reached the FA Cup Final in 1969 my dad got tickets through Bobby Owen, how excited was I?

The journey was planned with Military precision, we left North Manchester in the early hours of Saturday morning, my dad driving, Watford Gap at dawn and parking at Wembley at about 8 in the morning. The day just got better, lots of fans arriving, both City and Leicester, the atmosphere was becoming electric. The gates opened, we were in the Tunnel end, the singing, the banter, the humour I will never forget.

The goal……buzzer on the wing, crossed and Neil Young with the sweetest shot and it was in the net. Delerium, joy, words cant explain how I felt. We won the cup. The memories will be with me until the day I die.
I am now 54 and my son and I, he is 25, are season card holders I am as fanatical now as I was then.

i was 5 and a half years old, it was a cold November in 1967 and i was mithering my dad to take me to football with him, so he gave in wrapped me up, i had a little scarf on each wrist one round my neck to match my hat and i insisted on one round my waist, i had seen others dressed like this on tele, off we went, my dad bought some red hot sweets to keep us warm, he lifted me over the turnstiles and i sat on his knee, the match began i was overwhelmed with the noise, i remember seeing colin bell running faster than i have ever seen enyone run.

At half time my dad took to look at the players and mancger at the tunnel, joe mercer spoke to my dad and shook my hand, i was more up in the air than on my dads knee as city beat Leicester that day 6 0 and i was shot up in the air by my dad every goal, i remember thinking do i have to be thrown about every game, i soon learnt that wasn’t the case, however we did win the championship that season so what a start i had. sadly my dad died 6 years ago, we went to city together ever since that first day, now i go with my 70 year old mother. my hero from the 70’s was rodney marsh i met up with last month.

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 4 Spurs 1 (Saturday 9th December 1967) The Ballet on Ice.

I was 12 years old and my Dad had been going on at me for ages to go with him and watch City. I remember that my first game was on a bitter cold day and my Dad was convinced that the game would be called off. Miraculously (or maybe it was something to do with the fact that the game was on Match of the Day later that night) the ref passed the pitch as playable and we took up our position in the old Scoreboard End. It was freezing cold, light snow was falling and the pitch was rock hard. City went a goal down early on when, following a Spurs free-kick, the ball fell to the feet of Jimmy Greaves. Jimmy rarely missed from the six yard box. I was beginning to think that sitting at home by the coal fire watching Grandstand suddenly looked at much more attractive proposition. What followed was, to this day, one of the finest exhibitions of football I have ever seen.

City, seemingly wearing “football crampons” on their feet tore Spurs to pieces. As the Spurs players slipped, slid and constantly chased shadows, Colin Bell equalised in the first half and second half goals from Mike Summerbee, Tony Coleman and Neil Young completed the rout. Suffice to say, no one felt the cold on the way home.

My first game was carlisle away, the blue’s won 2-1 in the old 2nd division.
What was special about it? On the way home the players were on the same train as the fans Johny Crossan made a point of coming over to speak to me, i was only 10 but the lasting impression that had on me, made me live and breath City for the next 40yrs. Thanks John.

My first City game was on 28/11/1964 at home to Bolton Wanderers,we unfortunately lost 2-4, I had just reached my 12th birthday and my Mum allowed me to go with some school friends, we stood on the Kippax and the steps at the time seemed enormous,due to being small I did not see every minute of the game but it must of had an effect probably the ‘maine road’ thing.

It was common practice for kids to go to City home games one week and then United ones the next and eventually you chose which team you were going to follow,no contest it was City for me.

My first game is a distant childhood memory from 1964; it was a derby game against Bury on Boxing Day the first game at home after the sale of Dave Wagstaffe to Wolves. My over riding memory is of the songs being sung by the Kippax Stand faithful in protest at the sale. I was eight at the time carrying on a family tradition that went back to my Great Uncle who started watching City in the formative years. I remember little about the game it ended 0-0, I spent most of my time running around the half empty Kippax with other young kids.

My Dad and Brother were there standing in the corner between Kippax and Platt Lane with their football mates I use to sit on the top of the wall that formed the tunnel, a great seat. At one game one of the regulars suddenly realised that he had come to the game wearing his slippers! That obviously created a lot of laughter. Anyhow, it certainly hooked me, and from that point, I became a true blue although I had been from birth really. Soon Joe Mercer and Malcolm Allison came and the revolution began.

I remember coming out of Old Trafford, City having beaten them 3-1 on our way to winning the Championship and someone in the crowd said “you know for the first time ever I am actually looking forward to going to work tomorrow” and I sure knew what he meant. Obviously I’ve been lucky enough to see the best years in City’s history and I hope that they will be eclipsed and my son, a forth generation blue, will witness silverware in our trophy cabinet we has fans will have earnt it

My earliest memory of a City game is the 1964 farewell to Bert Trautman. This game came at a time when the team were struggling and yet over 60 000 turned out to say goodbye. I had been to other matches but this one sticks in my memory. A night match with the contrasting colours of turf, sky and floodlights it was unforgettable. My clearest memory is the massive pitch invasion at the end of the match. I and many others ran onto the turf just to get the most out of the evening. I clearly recall quite a few hanging from Bert’s goalposts attempting to break the bar and carry it off as a souvenir. Happy days.