I suppose i am quite rare, i am from London and from a West Ham supporting family but i’ve always been a blue from age 6 and being 38 now thats what you call a true blue.
my first game at Maine road was City v Newcastle in the 86/87 season.
I had not long started work so i could afford to help with the cost of petrol and talked my uncle (a lifelong Arsenal fan)into taking me there as i couldn’t drive yet, i was either 16/17 i can’t remember exactly.
When we stood on the Kippax surrounded by so many City fans i can’t describe how amazing it felt.
The pitch seemed so enormous and the whole place seemed to be shaking with the noise, i can still hear it now.
Of course in true City style we played pretty awful from what i can remember and the game finished 0-0 with Peter Beardsley running the show for Newcastle.
Then of course we were relegated that season at of all places West ham on the last day of the season.
But as all blues know it seems the worse we do the more we all love the club and it’s something that can’t be turned on or off it’s just in you for life.
4 ever Blue!

Been City fan from age of 2 but didn’t get to first game until about 13 years of age. £3 into the Kippax Street.
Not sure year is 100% correct but the team was Stoke, we were in the old division 2, the ground was twenty odd thousand and we won 2-1.
It was the away fans under the same roof, the largest standing stand in Britain, the originality of the fans and the banter.
What better place to go to when a teenage lad from inner city Manchester? Nowhere better. Kippax, Maine Road, Manchester, Manchester Boys.
I loved it all and fell right in love with the place. City ’til I die. Doyley, Fallowfield Blue.

My first ever City game was against Plymouth Argyle in August 1987. City had just been relegated from division 1, along with Villa and Leicester and Mel Machin was in charge. The team contained the likes of Paul Stewart, Andy Hinchcliffe, Steve Redmond, Ian Brightwell, David White and a certain, very talented Mr Paul Lake.

It cost me £1.50 to stand on the Kippax and my brother and I were one of the first in, taking our place above an entrance tunnel in the Kippax. The players came out to warm up and I didn’t have a clue who they were, but I clapped them anyway. As the ground began to fill, I felt the atmosphere building. Songs started and the few Plymouth fans in the Platt Lane end just sat there, silent.

Finally, the team emerged to an electric welcome. I had never clapped so much for so long. My hands were killing me when we’d finished The game got under way and I expected a goal almost immediately, but it was Plymouth who scored first and by half time it was they who led one nil. I looked downcast. My brother asked me if I regretted coming. I said no, but secretly thought yes. The bloke next to me, some strange guy wearing all blue was listening to the half time scores on his 1950’s radio. He told us he was really a Spurs fan, but preferred watching City. If I wasn’t already a confused teenager, that comment would have sent me in the right direction.

The second half got under way and City toiled away without reward and the fans were getting restless. You could sense defeat in the air. Then, on 82 minutes, I don’t know how it happened, but Paul Stewart equalised, sending usabsolutely nuts, but almost immediately from the kick off, Plymouth scored again. I couldn’t believe it. Then the Kippax gave a rousing cheer as the ref disallowed it (offside I think).

The minutes ticked away adn in the 90th minute, Imre Varadi knocked the ball past the Plymouth keeper. I couldn’t believe it as the fulltime whistle went. City had won 2-1. I went home unable to wait until the next home match. Blackburn. Stood next to the weird bloke in blue. We lost 2-1.
That’s City for you.
-Pete

I was 9 years old, and all through the Summer I had been bugging my Dad, previously a Red, to take me to see City play. Almost everyone else at school was a Red and, like my Dad, couldn’t understand why I wanted to watch second tier football. But even then I know there was something special about City that I just had to be part of.

So, first home game of the season 1987/88 season, after just being relegated from Division One, there me and my Dad were in the Family Stand, cheering on the Blues against Plymouth Argyle. We won 2-1, Perry Suckling dropped a howler for their goal I remember, but that was it – I was hooked for life. McNab’s tenacious tackling, Kenny Clement’s immaculate perm and ‘tash, Paul Lake’s grace, Moulden, Stewart, Varadi and White forming a deadly and quick forward line, and the sound of The Kippax ringing proud across Manchester regardless of the result – City were obviously something very special. My Dad immediately dropped all ideas of taking me to the other side of Manchester, realising also that only City could offer such a special experience (and at half the price too…)

In the next few games that followed we saw a 10-1 win against Huddersfield (then got beat by them 0-1 in the return leg!), the inflatable banana craze and the emergence of a young City side that the following season would deservedly regain top flight status.