Phenomenally mad and angry,
they got themselves into a balmy.
The shouts and the screams,
Drowned out the dead dreams,
All because of another land’s army?
Manchester City
Intrusive Thoughts
Saturday was a tough day. Tough to get out of bed. Tough to put one leg in front of the other.
Heading to the ground, I suddenly felt the need to cry, and slip away somewhere alone. I’ve always found it easy to step back and find solace or pull myself up. Today felt different. It was as if some gremlin was hanging on my toes inviting me to slide under ground into a pool of blackness. I dropped my friend Nat a message and went for a refreshing wander. I thought about calling my best mate Dan and realised how much that I didn’t want to speak. I sat and stared at the bleak Ashton canal. Its uninviting tones warned away those beyond water. I peered at leaves and their array of colours. Autumn’s cooler breezes had arrived.
Motivation is limited. I feel energy levels have sapped. I don’t want to do anything. It seems like every day is a push against a wall that won’t budge. I have so much to live for. I have so much to be responsuible for. I am incredibly lucky. Yet, the coolness of autumn and the shedding leaves feel unwelcome right now. I know days and nights will improve. I believe things will get easier but today, like Saturday, it is okay not be okay. A cliche maybe. But, that is how I feel.
Negativity at football seemed magnified. Impatient fans failed to cloke their dislike for Nunes and Nico. Neither did much wrong. Both put in a shift. I felt like turning on fellow fans. Instead I applauded those players louder and more passionately. Armchair and stand managers should still back their team, no matter who wears the shirt. It didn’t improve my mood. Then I pondered calling Dan again but realised I had no desire to talk. Sorry Dan, miss you matey.
I want to thank my friends at City, the ones I bumped into and nattered to, and remained with after the game for a while. Chatting to my mates, I happened upon a chance to talk to and get a programmed signed by the modest and splendid poet and author Lemn Sissay (OBE FRSL). His book Tender Fingers in a Clenched Fist has always stood out in my mind. Rain is another example that I can’t forget. And Daz, for the lift to Gateshead to see City draw with Newcastle Utd in the Subway Butty League Cup – and win a bonus point 7-6 on penalties. Daz, Haguey, Alison, Hagred and co have kept me sane for the last few years of football. A great bunch that have distracted me. I love my friends and those I encounter at work, at football, and in my life. They make me stronger and I hope they feel my heart.
And back to Saturday morning, collecting Astrid at the newly opened North View mental health hospital at Crumpsall. It was opened by Ricky Hatton. I couldn’t help think about his departure from life. I was born in Crumpsall, and I caught my vision and thoughts about my own mortality. I fear death. I have too much left to do. I also know how close the fine line between here and the next life appears. That void or whatever you believe isn’t far away. And at Crumpsall as I waited for my sister. I found my overactive mind imagining the ripple effect of my death. It hurt. It shook me. I questioned my own mind. It scared me. I’m not ready. I have much to do.
I played football again tonight. I didn’t want to play. I felt numb. I went to clear my head and pull my socks up. So, what now? Think I’ll call Dan tomorrow.
Summer ’25: I – A Quest for Hope
Manchester rain made a welcome return on Saturday morning. The sky cried for my departure. The greyness of overhead lines, concrete, and new high rise towers did not clash with the constant matt grey of the leaking vast sky. Blue skies and sunshine had greeted Manchester for months on end. The summer school holidays had now arrived.
Getting to Manchester International Airport’s Terminal 2 early required a 05:25am wake up, an early bus, and the 07:18 train. Kitted with a 20kg rucksack and a lighter 8kg daysack, I ran through my head the things that I may or may have not forgotten. Despite attentive planning and packing, a snag of doubt sat firmly on my shoulder.
Juneyao Airlines, complete with cluttered and near unworkable website for check-in, would be my carrier. Other airlines are available. However, on arrival, my world fell apart. Blood emptied my face my legs became jelly, and the shock of being told my visa had expired hit me like a freight train. It was not a good day.
On the train back to Manchester, I shook in rage qnd worry. I trembled. I vomited. I went to the toilet in other ways. I was empty. Panic battled with sensibility. I struggled home in a zombie-like trance. I entered the house, dropped my rucksack and backpack, and crumpled up into a bawling sack of self-hate, anger, and shame.
On telling the family, I set about rebooting myself and explored resurrection for summer plans. I immediately logged onto Chinese Visa Application Service Centre Manchester’s website and lodged my visa application. A trip to the library was necessary to gain scanned electronic copies of every passport page. And everything seemed to upload.
Sunday:
A day in the garden digging up vineweed and Himalayan-barbed-wire-bramble, with plenty of worrying and questioning of myself. A few video calls and some Bosch Legacy on the telebox. A day of limbo sandwiched by buying some Lego Duplo at a charity shop in Failsworth and an evening of cheese, sauerkraut, and bacon Polish dumplings. That all followed noticing my visa application as not being present. However, it would not allow me to apply due to a previous application. I wondered if it would go well.
Monday:
08:00 – Visa application appear online at Manchester Chinese Visa Centre website.
10:00 – query visa at Manchester Chinese Visa Centre. Visa application received.
11:46 – email request for further information.
12:00 – further information sent.
Pottering around town. Waiting. Limbo.
15:08 – application approved. Email to print with code and hand passport in.
I legged it from the book and coffee shop.
15:24 – printed documents at Manchester Central library.
15:27 – arrive to Manchester China Visa Centre. Attempt to hand off passport and documents. Man at desk, “I’m sorry we don’t accept applications after 15:00.”
I said, “It says 10:00 – 16:00.” He replies, “That’s wrong. We open again for application drop offs at 09:00 tomorrow.” Thanked man at desk.
I’ll be back. The quest goes on. 🐝
Wednesday:
Using the mandatory bonus free day, I headed to Warrington and met Little Big Sis’ Astrid for noodles and a movie. A good switch off from recent tension.
Tuesday:
08:35 – arrival at Chinese Visa Application Service Centre, Manchester. 5th in the queue.
09:00 – Service commences.
Thursday:
08:40 collection queue, position 2.
09:05 visa in hand, all grand.
Go to bed early (16:00/17:00), wake around 22:00/23:00.
Friday’s plan:
Depart for Manchester International Airport around midnight.
03:00 – Check in.
06:00 board flight to Brussels, Belgium. Sing a Vincent Kompany song and wobble my backside like Jeremy Doku skipping past defenders. Look out for former City player Émile Mpenza.
11:40 – board flight to China, in Brussels.
Let’s be fair, I’m not so sure U.K. leisure or family visit visas are as fast.
R.I.P. CRAIG VINCENT SHENNAN “SHEZ”
Rest in Peace Shez. I will miss that green and blue North Face jacket and the natters at EDS, away, or whereever summat City could be found. I’ll miss the simple shake of hand and greeting. Had to laugh when you took Chermine to the U18s game on Valentine’s Day. Of course you would! There are but a pocket of Blues who travel as far and as wide as Shez – and less so that take in the U18s, U21s, EDS, and Women’s games so frequently. A real die hard Blue. And one that was never too far from pushing his daughter into City the right way. Alisha and Shez at footy together was normal. If you didn’t see one or the other, then City weren’t playing. Massive condolences to Jordan and Alisha!
When awful news comes through and you know that a piece of the City community, the Manchester football landscape, and an all round good person has departed life, it leaves absence and hollowness. I have been bumping into you for years – never a close friend, but always someone welcoming, polite, and a laugh. Always positive and often sleepy. A bubbly character – even after early morning post rounds and minimal sleep! That being said I have seen you napping at City Football Academy watching the EDS, or U18s, or women’s team. Thanks for the brews shared, the supportive words, and the encouragement to bring my family to the U.K.
Shez represents what being a City fan is all about. The football is great a times but it is minor to the culture – and the politics, drama and celebrations or commiserations. Forget titles, parades and trophies, or allegations and ticket prices for now. Celebrate real fans. Build a statue or mural or expand the memorial gardens. City’s community matters more. Stand closer to those mates and family on the terraces. It doesn’t matter if we face Barcelona or Bristol City, your mates are the ones that deserve then praise. When an empty seat comes and you know who was there, you’ll feel the loss. We all do. People matter. Fans like Shez matter.
If the legacy you leave behind is countless Blues praising your character and spirit, then you did something right. I am gutted for your loved ones and your family. I offer my condolences and best wishes to all. Good night, God bless. Treasure life.🩵
31/12/1972-01/06/2025 CRAIG VINCENT SHENNAN “SHEZ”
Once a Blue, always a Blue!
Fan Fair Play
Empty seats, Emptihad, plastic fans, not real supporters, glory seekers, 115 charges, and a plethora of yawn-inducing taunts later. Where were you when you were shit? Even Wrexham A.F.C. fans will get this with their outside investment…
Many fans say oil club this, oil club that. But, it seems to me that these City owners are the progressive people who are putting their money into other things and getting away from oil dependency. Yes, it is still there, but electric cars in Abu Dhabi are less reliant on black gold from the ground. The provision into alternative uses of land through social housing, football, community aspects, and so called washing of wealth is a controversial one. Are Lloyds Bank, Barclays, or the British government less contentious in their investment habits?
Would East Manchester be improved without the Abu Dhabi commitments? Would new parks in Ancoats and the preservation of derelict hospital and mill fronts be a reality? Thay once stagnant area is a mesh of community, life, and people. Yes, it isn’t fully accessible to everyone but where in Great Britain can you find an affordable home or alternative to homelessness and food banks? That’s a condition at a far higher level than overseas interests. One that England and its neighbours have been flogging beyond the shores for near eternity. Why enable your own people onto a property ladder? Cash in quick.
I am all for human rights. Completely for safety and security of innocent people. What’s worse: a country that executes the absolute bad eggs of society? Or, one that turns off the ability for its elderly to heat themselves in harshest winter? That same latter country drops bombs indirectly through third party holders and battlers. They also provide that weaponry to states that deliberately target civilians. I’m not saying executions are right, not at all, but surely when people exchange cultures and mix and match, they see a clearer picture of where works and what can be realised. Opportunity to change. To improve. The City Football Academy is the utopia of football development. What about Manchester being the bridge of internationalist progressive thinking?
I have never understood why so many people sat at keyboards look at short little numbers and comment on a few hundred empty seats (that likely have sold out). Is there attention groundbreaking? If tens, hundreds, or thousands choose not to turn up, is it worth a song or dance? Are they saying that Manchester City has no right to ambition, growth, and to sit at the top table with Glory, Glory Man United, Liverpool, or Arsenal? Should City look up at their consistently consistent pack of red cartel and stop trying to be better? All that effort to comment on seats. Have they not got anything better to do?
In my mind there is no shame in empty seats every now and then. In fact, the more the merrier. It needs to be seen. Empty seats means that the gaffers at the top made mistakes in pricing and accessibility for a fan base. They became detached and they instilled conditions that do not allow a working class game to connect with an increasingly instable pool of absolute diehards. “The game’s gone “, is one thing I’ve heard time and time again throughout this last decade. And that’s when we’ve won!
Empty seats shows the club, Manchester City, or whoever has lost touch with who we are. And, yes, supporters on their loyalty schemes, from all over planet Earth, may film those gaps. Will they be there when the proverbial turd hits the big skinny blades of a less-shiny fan? I’ll look after my sphere of influence, my mates, my family, my friends, the community of our Official Supporters Club, and whoever matters. That community has built up around us, our City, with us, for us, for City and our seats will be full when they’re full, or empty when unfortunately people get ill, stuff happens beyond their control, and so on. Life happens. You can’t bow down and let football dictate where you should be every day or week. Televised games, competition kick off times, and other factors have put that regularity to bed. It isn’t for the match goer. Losing touch with supporters and televised fixtures can be fixed. It can change. Let’s hope so.
Things happen beyond your control and if others want to sing and chant about how empty the Etihad is, or how akin to a library it can be, knock yourselves out. Good for them. Enjoy it. Right now, with two games to go, after a quiet standing area experience at Wembley, I’m reflecting and positive that good times will return. Football comes in cycles and runs, and staying at a top level, for so long, has been freakish.
The first team to win 4 Premier League titles four times in a row. A record. And like all numbers and statistics, things pass, and clubs have to rest and reset. As a City fan since birth, I feel no shame in losing to a much more hungry Crystal Palace squad. Luck has to be on your side at times but desire and graft get you over the line. I hope Palace fans, players, and the neutrals enjoy the trophy win. Those who rest on their laurels seek no opportunities. So, what now?
Looking down on fans for not attending games is snobbish. Not everyone in Manchester has access to disposable income. And, even when buying tickets it has consequence. How many meal tables are sacrificed for a Champions League night out with the family? Shame on all the pundits and papers for continuing to single out City fans for having the odd lower than capacity appearance. How often do they ignore the reduced allocation of an away club and draw attention to a segment of up in the rafter seats left unoccupied? The constant reference to City’s council house ground, in reference to City’s occupation of the former Commonwealth Games 2002 stadium was pitiful, and should be treated in the same vein as anyone referring to Liverpool fans as bin dippers or Scousers as favouring giros for supporting their living. Football banter and jibes are cruel at times. Until the changes of attitudes, empty seats on tour.
17 KDB
Peak-Kevin De Bruyne may have passed and there remains just a few windows to see the Manchester City number 17 in action. This had been one hell of a decade.
The redheaded Belgian, reminiscent of Tin Tin, has put in shift after shift at the sky blue Etihad and all the places along the way. He has contributed and given it all in a footballing spell that has filled his home with medals and accolades. Trophies have swamped his time at City and without his contribution there would surely have been no Champions League finals in Portugal and Istanbul.
Whilst KDB may have appeared more serious in his finale season of 2024/25, his battling of injuries and frustration appears to have been brushed away. Now fans have started to see the master with the ball at his feet and one that is capable of magic, as witnessed against Crystal Palace. With a past stocked with dribbling, assisting, and sublime technique, it is no wonder the former VfL Wolfsburg man has played nearly 415 games for City. Scoring around a quarter as many goals!
At City, Kevin has contributed to six Premier League trophies, two (hopefully three) FA Cup trophies, five league cups, a brace of Community Shields and that all-important Champions League trophy. Whilst every Blue would have been gutted to see him injured in both Champions League Final appearances, all are thankful for his battling and composure on every journey through a decade at the Etihad Stadium club. Four Manchester City player of the season awards recognise the love of the fans of the Belgian playmaker.
The charitable and likeable De Bruyne has embraced City In The Community and other good causes, whilst keeping close to fans (where possible). His athleticism and range of passing has surely made him the best midfielder of the Premier League era. His assists and goals have squashed his then club record fee of £55 million (€75 million). At the time the media laughed and called him a Chelsea flop with little potential. That has haunted many a pundit – and rightfully so!
Alongside David Silva, James McAtee, Leroy Sane, or whichever striker he needed to feed, De Bruyne has earned every chant to the tune of Seven Nations Army (White Stripes). Wherever De Bruyne chooses to play next, City fans will watch with envious eyes. Whether we see KDB wear the 17 shirt at the FIFA Club World Cup remains to be seen. It would be a fitting departure to feature for Manchester City at the USA tournament, but who knows?! For now, let’s treasure the last days at City of an absolutely prodigious playmaker!
At City, we’ve been spoilt with a raft of neo-legendary stars, arguably transisting from Pablo Zabaleta and a raft of Mark Hughes signings through to the striking viking Erling Haaland. Before that cult figures like Uwe Rosler, Richard Dunne, and Shaun Goater gave us light for the 90s and early 2000s. Now, the City Football Academy is producing the likes of Phil Foden and Nico O’Reilly. So, what say, alongside Emile Heskey’s lads, a certain Kevin De Bruyne deposits his son to bolster “maybe in another generation.”
Oh Kevin De Bruyne…
The Return of the Whippyman?
[INTENSE MUSIC BUILDS]
Liam Gallagher as Narrator (deep, commanding voice):
In a world where precision meets power…
Where every touch can change the course of history…
One man stands at the heart of the action.
[CUT TO: A football pitch, Ilkay Gündoğan in slow motion, controlling the ball with effortless grace]
Narrator:
He’s the maestro, the conductor of the beautiful game.
From Dortmund to Manchester, and now to Barcelona…
He’s taken on the world’s greatest challenges.
[CUT TO: Gündoğan threading a perfect pass, the crowd roaring.]
Narrator:
But it’s not just skill that sets him apart…
It’s the vision, the leadership, and the heart of a champion.
[CUT TO: Gündoğan lifting the Champions League trophy, eyes focused.]
Narrator:
This August, get ready to witness the next chapter…
As Ilkay Gündoğan steps onto the grandest stage once more. But where?
[CUT TO: Close-up of Gündoğan, determination in his eyes.]
Ilkay Gündoğan (voiceover):
“This isn’t just a game. It’s my passion, my life. And I’m just getting started.”
[FINAL CUT: A powerful shot of Gündoğan striking the ball, the screen fades to black.]
Narrator:
Ilkay Gündoğan.
The midfield maestro. Mr Whippy.
Coming soon to a stadium near you?
[END WITH THE SOUNDS OF A CHEERING CROWD, TITLE CARD APPEARS: “GÜNDOĞAN: THE GAME CHANGER”]
Sea Burial.
I visited HuiDong, Guangdong (China) one January during the CoViD-19 pandemic, and it was quiet. On the August 2023 trip, it was the opposite of quiet. I no longer recommend the area. Too much litter, noise and far too many people. I just visited once at a much quieter time.
At 5.30am, on August 9th, a young kid was throwing sand at her pet duckling, and the duckling tried to escape. She put it in a carrier bag. One of her parents then stamped on it. To further this heinous crime against life, her parent tossed it into the sea. Plastic bag, dead duckling, and the shittest sea burial ever. That was a morning sunrise with Indigo spoilt by the grimness of an unwanted morning observation. I’d like to say that was all I witnessed during my time in Guangdong over the last decade. Similar crap happens on the U.K. I’m not naive enough to believe it doesn’t. The scale of bleakness and disposable life is grim: like painted turtles, flea-ridden kittens full of worms in small block cages and hamsters.
Beyond the disappointment, tree frogs, egrets, snails, and geckos made a change from legs being wrapped in sea plastic and watching bottles float out to sea. The sea could be seen as a glorious slumber of nature battling humanity’s demise. Our global oxygen provider and carbon dioxide sink act in a complex structure of processes so dependent on balance that any changes lead to stressed environmental twists. The tree frogs and egrets will know the difference. As will man. And woman. And LGBTQ+.
Henry VIII had his own purpose-made football boots, from Italian leather. That rough and ready game led to football and shirts being made and these days from recycled polyester materials. Not that the cost of recycled material ever shows in the cost of football shirts. Stood in a rock pool, looking at tiny crabs, anemones, and sea snails, I could feel the belting heat on my City shirt. The manufacturer Puma hadn’t accounted for Guangdong’s blistering humidity and heat, even in the shade of towering rocks. I pondered how the piles of plastic at the top of the beach could be used to produce future City kits. Or for team China. All it could take is a few lawmakers, employment of people to tidy and educate. Leave only footprints. Take only memories. Or not?
I didn’t see Ken Barnes play.
One player I have read much about, seen flickers of videos, and met many years ago at the City of Manchester Stadium, has always fascinated me. Peter Barnes also signed my book, This Simple Game: The Footballing Life of Ken Barnes. Written by Ken Barnes woth Jimmy Wagg, the Manchester: Empire Publications book remains a proud piece of my City memorabilia. The name Ken Barnes sounded fresh from Coronation Street.
Throughout his playing days, Ken Barnes was known for his athletic build and agility on the field. Newspaper reports said he had a confident and determined demeanour, reflecting his leadership qualities as a midfielder. My grandfather said how as Barnes aged gracefully, his posture remained strong, and his eyes retained a glint of the competitive spirit that defined his career.
Dedicated and hardworking, Barnes was renowned for his relentless work ethic both on and off the field. His commitment to training and improving his skills was unwavering throughout his career. As a midfielder and captain for Manchester City, Barnes exhibited natural leadership qualities. He was vocal on the pitch, directing play, and motivating teammates. Featuring for City, Wrexham, and Stafford Rangers, he’d give his all for over 390 league and cup games.
Like many players, he faced setbacks and injuries with resilience, always bouncing back stronger and determined to contribute to his team’s success. Despite his achievements, Barnes remained humble and grounded, often crediting his teammates and coaches for his success. Beyond his playing career, Barnes transitioned into coaching and management roles, driven by a desire to impart his knowledge and passion for the game to future generations. Scoring 42 league and cup goals, alongside management at Wrexham, Bangor City and Witton Albion cemented his football experience.
Born and raised in Birmingham, Barnes showed talent for football from a young age. He honed his skills playing for local clubs before catching the eye of professional scouts. Barnes’s career peaked during his time at Manchester City in the 1950s and early 1960s. His £750 move helped him play a pivotal role in the team’s success, with City winning an FA Cup final at the second attempt in 1956. He never earned caps for the England national team or had a chance to represent his country with pride and distinction in international competitions.
“The best uncapped wing-half ever to have played in English football” – Denis Law, Scottish international footballer
Barnes is remembered as a legend of Manchester City, not only for his achievements on the field but also for his influence on subsequent generations of players and coaches. After retiring from playing, Barnes transitioned into coaching roles. He served as a coach at various clubs, including Manchester City, where he continued to contribute to the development of young talents. Barnes remained active in the football community, participating in charitable initiatives and mentoring young players. Barnes would be involved in the development of a number of young players, including Paul Lake, David White, and Steve Redmond.
He has been honoured with inductions into the Manchester City Hall of Fame and remained a beloved figure amongst senior fans for his dedication and contributions to the club.
Kenneth Herbert Barnes (16 March 1929 – 13 July 2010)
This Means Bore.
Fresh air, not armchair, is one phrase banded around. Football is a highly subjective topic. The marmite of sports. Break it down further and tainted bias slaps views across faces and backs angry frustration in media, socially and professionally. Some fans can’t even agree to disagree.
A supporter, a fanatic, a loyalty customer whatever you identify as, as a footy fan, you’re bound to have a preference. Whether it’s the famous black and white of Grimsby Town or the traditional gold of Wolverhampton, football fans stick by their club. Loyalty is tribal. Some fans hide away when the going gets tough. Gates dip. Who wants to watch poor football on a weekly basis? Well, that’s where the diehards sit and stand and roar.
Manchester Utd fan Terry Christian posted the same photo of City’s trophy parade, clearly taken hours before the parade, and about a year two. He mentioned Deansgate. It’s a photo outside the Royal Exchange Theatre. The famous tramlines are a clue. To paraphrase Jim Royle, “Deansgate, my arse!” It’s okay. It’s in jest. Just someone fishing for laughs using social media as a tool. Other blinder to the obvious fans repost it. They claim it. They celebrate it. The parasitic nature of social media captures a perceived truth and turns a silly post into the next Baby Reindeer. It stalks its intended audiences and bugs a few City fans. It is what it is. We do it to them with our Poznans, our chants, and our attitude. Why shouldn’t they wind us up?
The match-going fan goes for friends, family, and feelings that sitting in a pub or at home cannot replicate. The rainbow of emotions at a game, the creeping emotion, and the waves of euphoria or disappointment keep us going. Win, lose, or draw, the fanatic donned in whatever-they-wish-to-wear goes to cheer their club on their way. Few anticipate or expect results to go their way, even if they believe a team capable “on paper.” That’s not cricket. Whether you’re a 100-year-old at Wrescam watching a win or a baby pitch-invading past stewards, football brings people together. It also tears us apart.
As Manchester Utd lifted the 2024 F.A. Cup, suddenly I found reconnection with a few old mates, who felt that day more appropriate to drop passive aggressive messages, jokes, or soft commiserations. It is what it is. City weren’t good enough. As painful as it is to lose to a bitter rival, you take it. We’ve had far worse days. Far worse. I’m more perturbed by price rises at both our club and many Premier League clubs. Tottenham Hotspur’s latest money-grab involves scrapping pensioner prices. That’s not on.
Football desperately needs to stop hiding in social media shadows, gripping well-earned cash from supporter bases that have been there for their clubs through thick-and-thin. The whole success of football lies in community. From grassroots teams like Wythenshawe A.F.C. to Girona F.C., clubs need fans. Their fans. Not just the new money and gloryseekers who latch to player or club. We need more fans like Haguey, Daz, the Oldham Groundhopper, and the West Ham lot.
For now, the posts are lifted up. Savour the past. Look forward to the season ahead. There’s always hope. You won’t catch me saying 5-in-a-row, even if it is “a dream in my heart.”
P.s. Welcome to Wrexham, season 3 is well worth a watch.
Everything is Temporary
No joy lasts forever. Nor any pain. Everything is temporary. Football is the same. The joys of Manchester City winning the Premier League for the fourth time, or the highs of singing along to Black Keys at a rescheduled gig in the Coop Live arena. Just some examples of highs. Lows: losing the F.A. Cup final, especially to Manchester Utd. Feelings come and go.
The Liquor Station, not far from Wembley, was a pub with a bouncing atmosphere. Despite losing to Utd, our fanbase remained in good spirits. Win, lose, or draw, loyalty is a fine thing. Many of us chatted, sang, and memories shared. The spirit of football drives away pain through positivity. City had lost their 5th game of the 2023/24, two less than the Treble trophy win of 2022/23. We have been spoiled under manager Pep Guardiola. To feel wonderful one minute may lead to lower spells.
The news today and tomorrow note that Pep is on his way out. Social media hints City will be charged with 115 alleged infringements. The usual crap that has haunted City since the Premier League made their charges known. Whilst Everton, Nottingham Forest and others faced charges and punishment for different reasons, City have strenuously denied the allegations as being a matter of guilt. Frustration can be annoying. Things twist and turn.
Drinks with Kellie, her son Ben, Ian, and partner ‘Elton’ Gayle (from Watford) made good company. A good breakfast, a great evening, and company sandwiching a poor result. City will be City. Typical City. Following that great evening, a car drive back led to just me attending the City trophy parade with a few thousand Mancunians. F.A. Cup defeat and bad weather didn’t dampen the atmosphere. A day. A moment. Temporary.
Nothing is ever permanent. Everything is temporary.
The Beautiful Game.
Where do I begin? Half and half scarves.
Following a player just for their win. Or Jack Grealish’s calves.
When had it all changed? Facebook, Twitter, X or whatever.
A platform to say anything, deranged. Modern supporters whatever the weather.
Except no. Not the rain. Not even what they call a small game.
Being begged for final tickets, which makes me insane. Fulham, Madrid, Stalybridge Celtic treat all the same.
King of the Kippax, not anymore. Game pin badges rare as rocking-horse dung.
Paper programmes up-priced to four. Your team wins, “It must be a bung.”
Image right charges, sponsors inflated. The big four, five, six, twenty.
Listen for facts, stop being deflated. No Cup replays, goodbye to plenty.
Entitlement and bitter disappointment. Park football understanding sacrifice.
The faded smells of changing room ointment. Out with the old, no room for advice.
Fields and pitches become housing estates. Bitter chants about empty seats.
Number 47 after traditional 8s. There is no room for crisis, cost of living: no eats.
The modern game for the working class. Prices go up and up and up and up.
Saturday? No. Sunday afternoon? No. Monday night? Pass. Dare you to question what is up?!
Toe the line, stand in line, pay the fine. Point deductions bring into disrepute.
Games from July to June, from Plymouth to Tyne. From five to nine, another substitute.
Automatically offside by the skin of a toe. Away, third and fourth kits in all varieties.
Again, VAR is stealing the show. Dates chugging along as corrections in diaries.
Loyalty bonus? Leaves in a year. Win, lose or draw, never gifted a process freeze.
Question their passion? Falls on deaf ear. Captive audience prices that cause you to wheeze.
Football reformation and regulation without invitation. Bills for teams, fans, agents, and players.
Time to question the rule makers’ instigation. What game will be left for the naysayers?
The beautiful game? The beautiful game. Our beautiful game? Our beautiful game.
Your beautiful game? Your beautiful game. My beautiful game? My beautiful game.
Alicante
Alicante (or Alicant in Valencian) struck me as a surprisingly historic and quiet place for an April wander. Good food, great sights, and a spot of relaxation.
Arriving by train into Alicante port, I crossed the road and followed a few memorised simple directions. Ole Hostel wasn’t too far. Checking in was swift. Within a few minutes, I was back out and heading up to San Fernando Castle and wandering around the great structure. A good view of Alicante and North towards Benidorm gave me an idea of what to do the next day. The rustic sandy coloured castle wasn’t too impressive, but a free entrance wander into a former fortress filled time and provided a place to read a chapter or two of Kill Shot, my latest chapter in Vince Flynn’s Mitch Rapp series.
Following the first castle, I strolled down the town to the marina and followed the promenade northwards for an hour or so. A quick and simple dinner and a sit down by the marina helped power a good night’s sleep. The following morning, after a good breakfast of salmon and avocado omelette, I headed to Castell de Santa Barbara. The walk upwards wasn’t too exciting. Basilica de Santa Maria d’Alicant was a pleasant Gothic church built in the 1500s, but Parc de l’Etreta was closer to an ill-planned concrete monstrosity. It was the kind of park lacking character and constructed in the kind of speedy way that lacks an understanding of erosion and weather conditions.
Once the park made way for the Castell de Santa Barbara lower walls, a road and gated entrance became visible. Soon after that, the grandeur and dramatic fortress opened up. Hereon, the castle allowed for ample exploration, great galleries, fantastic sweeping views, and reading opportunities. The free entrance and the provision of water sales helped keep my attention in the Valencian stronghold. Standing atop Mount Benacantil (169m/554′), the castle has Muslim origins, from when they controlled the Iberian Peninsula, around 711AD to 1296AD. Roman, Iberian, and bronze age artefacts had also been found. Many inhabitants followed, and reinforcements were built.
Much like the Ole Hostel, the scene was warm, friendly, and international. Brazilian and Cuban tourists mixed with local people, and the historic battles of olden times were distant memories. Cosy places to rest your feet and community has long been the norm.
Beneath the castle, the golden sands, and clear waters of Postiguet Beach shone under bright sunlight. To the north, Sierra Grossa stood like a carved hill, edged by roads and tramlines. A ruined petroleum plant stood out amongst the dried lands of the tufted grass top of the hills. From the beach to the castle, the top can be done via an underground lift. I didn’t know that, and to be honest, the walk up and down was part of a casual exploration. On the way down, I strolled by Hércules Football Club’s concrete José Rico Pérez stadium and the historically cruel bullring. The twin of Brighton and Hove, England, U.K. and Wenzhou (China) is a relaxed place, but I couldn’t spend too long there. Two nights was enough. The flight back to England from the nearby Aeropuerto de Alicante-Elche Miguel Hernández arrived. Before long, I’d swapped 22°C sunshine for 12°C and cloud.
Sitting in shorts, on Friday, watching City Elite Development Squad beat West Bromwich Albion 2-0 as the temperature dropped wasn’t my wisest decision. Micah Hamilton‘s great strike following Kane Taylor’s opener concluded a good 2-0 win and a great week with 5 nights in Spain.
¡Hala Manchester!
Madrid, capital of Spain, longtime artistic city and short-term filmset of La casa de Papel. As much as I wanted to see the Spanish National Research Council (CSIC), I didn’t have time. Madrid was to be an in-and-out job, much like City’s thrilling three-all draw at the Estadi Santiago Bernabeu. Or, more appropriately, how my bank account is on pay day. In. Out. Done.
With that in mind, I met a few Blues for octopus on bread, alongside Callos a la Madrileña (a stewed tripe dish, cooked slowly for hours). With scrumptious food and a decent pint (or half litre) of Alhambra in the belly, I went for a wander. On the map, a temple had caught my eye.
Casa de Toledo isn’t in Toledo. It is in the Madrid area of Torrelodones. Sadly, a tad too far. The protected park by the Guadarrama River was too far out. Instead of planning a Bank robbery, I wandered to the Temple of Debod, which sounded quite mysterious. On arriving, with no information, I found a brick-by-brick relocated Egyptian tomb gifted by the Egyptian government to Madrid. Not a bad result of the Aswan Dam needing new space. This bizarre relocation overlooks the city of Madrid and a panoramic view of the majestic Palace area. Other bits are on view. On this occasion, the Simpsons, a panda, and a gorilla were nearby.
After this, a train from nearby sped towards Nuevos Ministerios metro station, followed by a stroll up to the football stadium. The Santiago Bernabeu is iconic and has been around since 1947. Maine Road, City’s mainstay for the 20th century, was built in 1923. Named after a former player and a benefactor, Santiago Bernabéu de Yeste once served under Francisco Franco’s Nationalists. The stadium had only a few years before bearing his name in 1955. Gone was the Nuevo Chamartín, and along came an iconic stadium. A recent refurbishment hadn’t been completed by the time Manchester City kicked off against Real Madrid in the 2023/24 quarter-finals of the UEFA Champions League.
The game itself was perilous at times, with moments of madness in defence for both teams sandwiching a handful of great goals. Phil Foden, J G, and Valvedare amongst the action. Bernardo Silva’s sublime freekick started the proceedings. The expected enclosure of the away stand was far from complete with a pre-match temporary power cut, taking the concourse lighting down. The alcohol-free offerings and limited snacks were overpriced and low in quality. Much like the tonnes of concrete dust around the “polished turd” of the Santiago Bernabeu stadium. The exterior is cased to look like an air-fryer or some such metallic pebble. Perhaps all the shopping trolley supply of Madrid was melted down for this external case. The steepness of the 4 (or 7 or 8) tiered away end allowed for a good view of pigeons landing below. Even their visit to the top two tiers needed supplementary oxygen.
The interior bowl of the Air Fryer Bernabeu looks impressive. It’s almost like a giant basketball-arena with a slightly bigger playing surface. The exterior lacks character and will no doubt reflect well under sunlight, but a metallic pebble broken by slats looks to me like a license to overheat. The dusty staircase, incomplete toilet and snack facilities, and decorations will no doubt look and feel better when complete. Until then, it’s a building site.
The four towers known as Paseo de la Castellana, near Madrid Chamartin railway station, does feature in the Spanish money heist series La casa de Papel. From here, I made my withdrawal. Bound for Alicante. Little did I know that City would be taken to extra time and eliminated from the Champions League in the following week. It is what it is.
We Can Be Heroes
Brian Horton wasn’t the glamour signing many wanted. One thing he was, and you can’t take that away from me, was the manager that caught my eye and attention. I was barely into double digits of age when this suited smart beaming smile of a man appeared on the Maine Road scene. The gravelly Scouse-voice of Peter Reid was suddenly replaced with an outsider from the familiar northern tones. An outsider he would not remain. Capturing fans’ hearts and imagination, he retained Steve Lomas, brought in the excitement of David Rocastle, Paul Walsh, Ian Beagrie, and the cult hero Herr signing Uwe Rösler. A relegation battle saw City go on a great run and excitement bubbled.
Niall Quinn, Richard Edghill, Garry Flitcroft, and others made for progressive football in 1994/95 with a weak league finish, keeping the threat of relegation in touching distance. As is Typical City, Chairman Swales made room for the great bogroll King Francis “One Pen” Lee. With that change, Brian Horton was sacked, and City would move for former England player Alan Ball. The rest is history, although many argue Manchester City has no history. We all know otherwise.
Over many years, I’ve bumped into former City players and current stars and gathered a collection of autographs. Having chances to speak a few words with one or two has been rare but worthwhile. Ian Brightwell signed my Manchester City v QPR programme on that fateful day in May 2012. I also nattered to the ever-approachable Tommy Booth. Mike Summerbee epitomises the fan-footballer relationship, stopping home and away, and all places between autographs and photos. These moments bring magic to Manchester City fans and others. Meeting Ken Barnes, Bert Trautmann, Peter Barnes, and Gerry Gow wouldn’t be a big thing to a Liverpool fan, nor a Manchester U****d fan, but for me anyone who has donned the legendary blue and white of Manchester, gets my attention. Even Ged Brennan.
Another star on the night at The Vale in Gorton was 6’4″ (193cm) goalkeeper Alex Williams. 125 appearances over 6 years, alongside England youth caps, and a prolific career at City In The Community has done Alex well. A well-spoken and welcoming individual who recognises the importance of social responsibility and equality has been deeply ingrained in City folklore since the 1980s. A fellow ex-resident of Levenshulme, Alex Williams, received an MBE in 2002. To his credit, he battled racism and it’s hard-to-believe-now that he was the first black goalkeeper in English professional football. Wayne Hennessey and Kasper Schmeichel were amongst his tutees during his coaching days. Like Brian Horton, Alex flogged his autobiography, You Saw Me Standing Alone. Both made it to my bookshelves that evening.
The evening of course featured 5 trophies, including the 2022/23 treble. The UEFA Champions League trophy sat next to the FA Cup and Premier League polished trophies. The UEFA Super Cup and FIFA Club World Cup were equally positioned on the evening. Gorton Official Supporters Club held a great night for its members and guests.
After questions and answers with Brian Horton and ex-City keeper Alex Williams, a warm feeling of connection to a club that has grown into a gargantuan behemoth remained. Keeping in touch with memories and pride is important. City ’til I die, indeed.
Beryl Is Dead.
A scuff along my left inner calf. Just beneath that a short slash of loose skin. A sore knee. The result of a power-assisted pedal down an ill-fitting road. What started as a simple ser if errands had quickly escalated into a farce. All in the name of public and green transport.
Many people that I know argue that the best car driving experiences involve hire cars. The same can’t be said for Manchester’s new-ish Beryl bikes. The bee-crested Bee Network bikes have been around the city for some time. Their yellow livery and solid frames, like bees, give off a sense of warning. Many hit accelerate in their hire cars, and some give little care to how they return them. I pride myself on treating all in my possession as my own. I aimed to take this hire bike back safely.
Departing a bus stop in Ardwick, I ran my first errand, and toyed with the idea of a bus back to town and then across to Openshaw. I passed a rack of yellow bikes. I decided to download the Beryl application. I followed the instructions and was quickly away. I slowed past the site of the former Daisy Mill in Longsight. I sped on, deciding to swing via Gorton and then Openshaw before heading for Newton Heath. That was my first error.
The second error was not locking the bike, despite using the screen to lock it. The screen kept flashing with a lock bike message. Then I slid the black rear lock in place. It said I could park for 15 minutes. I gave myself 5 minutes in the shop. Within minutes, 4 phone warnings flashed up. The reasonable minutes per bike riding were okay. The £25 out of zone parking was not. It had not paused the journey. It ended the journey. I soon contacted team Purple on the Beryl application. Displeased was an understatement.
After some careless negotiation, enraged, with sore cold hands on a phone that refused to steady my nerves, I had negotiated my charges back. Just the charges. Not the journey fee. I left it a few days, and even now, 6 days later, I feel angry at such a poor experience. Use more environmental transport? Hmm. No thanks.
I’d managed a loop and ended almost where I’d started. Racking and placing the two locks onto the bumbling Bee bike, I became infuriated by the complexity of a simple enough ride. I’ve used similar services in Germany, China, Japan, and Denmark, yet here in my hometown, hiring a bike seemed as complex as spliting the atom.
Plastic club.
Plastic club with plastic fans and plastic empty seats.
You said we have no history.
I’m sure you have no bias.
You said we should be charged.
You’re a legal hotshot.
Empty colours and an atmosphere suited to a library.
Did you ever leave your armchair?
You questioned where we were when we “were shit”.
You edited photos and videos when you weren’t bothered.
The Red side toppled, wobbled and roof falling down.
The silent Anfield roar, a copy and paste rhetoric.
You said it wasn’t about us but it was about us, about you, about us.
No bias intended, no one offended.
All the while, your former players bleated and tweeted.
Not about the white American owners.
Just the Arabs, Asians and outsiders.
The Russian one first, then less, when shady became barred.
Through this, we sat back and celebrated.
We inhaled the fumes of boiling piss from Merseyside, Old Trafford, and the Daily Telegraph.
Modest jealousy in print, on video, and all over the Internet.
We look at you, smile, yawn…
And we play on.
加油曼城! C’MON CITY!
2024 will be a year of tidying, organising and shuffling. The below comes from a former page. It is now a post, archived, as my involvement with Shenzhen Blues has ended.
SHENZHEN BLUES 深圳曼城官方球迷会
First Official MCFC Supporters Club in Mainland China 中国内地首家曼城官方认证球迷会 [00164]
Our contact details: (feel free to drop us a line… 欢迎联络, 给我们留言…)
WeChat/Weibo: ShenzhenBlues / Twitter: Shenzhen_Blues / www.shenzhenblues.cn / contactus@shenzhenblues.cn / Facebook: SZblues
(你可以躺在床上看比赛/ Watch the game in your bed)
现在来点完全不同的东西吧… AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT…
加我们项目负责成员的微信. Wechat : our team members who can assist you
们是曼城 / WE ARE CITY
1深圳曼城球迷会将会继续分享全中国曼城球迷的各种照片和故事。它不仅是一个展现深圳球迷，更是展现世界所有球迷风采的同好基地。
Shenzhen Blues will share any photos and stories from City fans throughout China. It is a fanzine for all our fans and not just those in Shenzhen.
请分享我们深圳曼城球迷会的官方微信公众号或为它点赞。
Please like and share our official wechat account.
我们在尽力用中英双语呈现出更多信息
We try to have translated materials in English and/or Chinese.
也一定会有过去和现在的各种相关照片
There are always photographs from the past and present.
重要的信息会在这个群里发布，也会有其他部分相关信息
Important information is shared through this channel. There are often other little bits of interest too.
您也可以通过订阅的方式获取第一手的资料，欢迎各位订阅。
You can submit articles, photos or materials too. Please feel free to do so.
REALLY EASTLANDS M.C.O.S.C. in CHINA
SHARE YOUR O.S.C.
球迷会名称/Club name: / 球迷会联系方式/Club contacts:
微博或其他社交媒体链接/Weibo or social media links: / 微信账号/Wechat account:
关于我们/About us: / 最后，请分享一些照片。/Finally, please share some photos.
衷心感谢你们/THANK YOU KINDLY. 爱与和平。Peace and love.
SHENZHEN BLUES 深圳曼城官方球迷会
First Official MCFC Supporters Club in Mainland China 中国内地首家曼城官方认证球迷会 [00164]
Shenzhen was the location for the Blues friendly against Borussia Dortmund, which allowed supporters in the region to enjoy much more than the live matchday experience.
The tour was the perfect opportunity for the Club to connect with their Chinese fans and to celebrate this the Shenzhen Blues hosted a special event at their base – McCawley’s Irish Pub.
Tosin Adarabioyo, Angelino, Willy Caballero and Jason Denayer were the guests of honour as they took part in a Q&A and signing session.
The event carried extra significance as the Hong Kong and Melbourne branches were also in attendance as well as participants from City Football Schools’ project in Shenzhen, which made for a memorable coming together of City fans around the world.
With the Capital One Cup on display, supporters had a rare opportunity to capture a selfie with the famous trophy, while our Hong Kong branch’s support was recognised as they were presented with a commemorative plaque from Club Ambassador and City legend, Mike Summerbee.
Our Melbourne branch were an ever present during pre-season, and for member Wade Whitwell, the Shenzhen event topped off an incredible trip following the Blues. He said: “Shenzhen was a highlight of the pre-season tour for me. The great atmosphere in McCawley’s and sharing time with other Australians, the Hong Kong branch, the Shenzhen Blues and those from Manchester City made the trip to China so worthwhile.”
Similarly, Martin NG, the Hong Kong Branch Secretary, was delighted to have the opportunity to meet his City heroes.
“I feel very happy and proud to have taken part in this event and it was great to meet the players, who were all very nice”, he added.
You can see all the action from the event on Inside City 201.
See more: BlueMoon Forum (City China and SZBs post)
Xi’an: The Original Home of Football? Think Cuju (蹴鞠)
球迷会名称/Club name: 西安曼城球迷会 Xi’an Manchester City fans Association Club
球迷会联系方式/Club contacts: 阿圭罗的小媳妇儿 [Aguero’s Wife]
微博或其他社交媒体链接/Weibo or social media links: 西安曼城球迷会（微博名）
微信账号/Wechat account: 西安曼城球迷会（公众号）
关于我们/About us: 古称长安。长安城作为古代第一个人口破百万的国际化大都市，北濒渭河，南依秦岭，八水润长安。在这座古老的城市里，住着一群有着蓝色信仰的人们，这群人的存在给这座城市注入了新的活力，这就是我们——西安曼城球迷会。
不论你是土生土长的西安人，还是身在西安的异乡人，亦或是远在他乡的西安乡党，只要你信仰蓝月，我们都向你敞开怀抱。
Xi’an, is an ancient town, once known as Chang’an. Xi’an was one of the Four Great Ancient Capitals.
Xi’an is the original starting point of the Silk Road. Emperor Qin Shi Huang’s Terracotta Army is based here. Bordered to the north by the Weihe River, the southern Qinling Mountains and known for 8 rivers, the city has great diversity and history. The sky blue and white faith of City reached Xi’an in modern times and adds vitality to a City mostly know for its great food and castle walls. Whether you are a native to Xi’an, or a visitor to Xi’an, Xi’an’s OSC opens their arms to meet you and your love for the Blue Moon. No reds allowed.
Expect to eat: Roujiamo Chinese Hamburger (肉夹馍); Liangpi (凉皮); Paomo Mutton, beef, and Bread Pieces in Soup (羊肉泡馍); Biang Biang Noodles (油泼扯面); Jinggao Steamed rice cake stuffed with honey dates and black beans (甑糕).
Expect to see: Fortifications of Xi’an & Xi’an City Wall (西安城墙); Xi’an Bell Tower (西安钟楼); the Drum Tower of Xi’an (西安鼓楼); Mount Li (骊山); Mausoleum of the First Qin Emperor (Qin Shi Huang) (秦始皇陵); Terracotta Army (兵马俑); Shaanxi Galaxy (陕西银河); Shaanxi Guoli F.C. (陕西国力); Shaanxi Renhe Commercial Chanba F.C. (陕西人和商业浐灞); Shaanxi Dongsheng (陕西东盛); Xi’an Evening News (西安晚报); Qinqiang opera (乱弹).
Did you know? Arthur Gostick Shorrock [from Blackburn, Lancashire, England] and Moir Duncan founded the Sianfu Mission in 1892.
U.K. Twin cities & Towns: Edinburgh, Bury St. Edmunds & Birmingham
爱与和平/Peace and love
DONGGUAN EASTLANDS – MANCHESTER CITY O.S.C.
WE’RE REALLY HERE.
WHERE DO WE MEET? We have a junior club – and we have the more senior options. Sometimes we gather at Irene’s Bar (Dongguan); Murray’s Irish Pub (Dongcheng, Dongguan) & road trips to join the Shenzhen Blues, Huizhou Blues or Guangzhou Blues. Actually, there’re just two of us for now.
WHEN DO WE MEET? Please contact acton28 on WeChat.
WHO ARE WE? Perhaps the smallest collective of Manchester City fans in China, so far.
WHY HAVE A CITY O.S.C. IN DONGUAN? Dongguan is a massive City of around 10 million people and is dominated by basketball, however football is growing. The aim of Dongguan Eastlands is to raise attention of Manchester City and football in general. At the end of the day, build it and they will come. There is no harm in trying. Like Manchester’s past, this city of Dongguan is industrial. Busy worker bees are everywhere.
WHEN WERE WE FOUNDED? On hold. Membership problems.
NOT COMING SOON
Official WeChat: 曼城足球俱乐部 mcfcofficial / Official website: http://www.mancity.com / https://cn.mancity.com/
All my people, right here, right now, d’ya know what I mean?
Football is best live.
Football doesn’t belong on the internet, in a box on television, or confined to those who can afford premium seats. It’s a game, and as the song Boys In Blue by City says, “football is the game that we all live for”. It’s a simple concept of kick bag of air into a goal, whilst stopping t’other side from doing similar.
22 folk play, split over two teams, with stacks of substitutes, and influence from men, or women waving cards, flags, or sitting in a box room issuing instructions like a sinister James Bond villain. Usually, it has worse outcomes than global domination.
Games attended in 2023/24:
One. 15/7/23, 3pm, West Didsbury & Chorlton 2-1 1874 Northwich F.C., Step Places Stadium, friendly game
Two. 16/8/23, 10pm, Manchester City 1-1 Sevilla, UEFA Super Cup, Man City win 5 – 4 on penalties, Georgios Karaiskakis Stadium
Three. 19/8/23, Manchester City 1-0 Newcastle Utd, Premier League, Etihad Stadium
Four. 23/8/23, 7.45pm, Avro FC 0-1 City of Liverpool, Vestacare Stadium, Pitching In
Five. 25/8/23, 7pm, City EDS 4-4 Aston Villa, Academy Stadium
Six. 26/8/23, 12pm, City U18s 6-0 Blackburn Rovers, City Football Academy, Premier League U18
Seven. 27/8/23, Sheffield Utd 1-2 Manchester City, Premier League, Bramhall Lane
Eight. 2/9/23, Manchester City 5-1 Fulham, Premier League, Etihad Stadium
Nine. 16/9/23, West Ham Utd 1-3 City, Premier League, Elizabeth Stadium
Ten. 22/9/23, 7pm, City EDS 1-2 Chelsea, Premier League 2, Academy Stadium
Eleven. 23/9/23, Manchester City 2-0 Nottingham Forest, Premier League, Etihad Stadium
Twelve. 30/9/23, 3pm, Wolverhampton Wanderers 2-1 Manchester City, Premier League, Molineux
Thirteen. 8/10/23, Arsenal 1-0 City, Premier League, Emirates Stadium
Fourteen. 15/10/23, 3pm, City Women 5-0 Bristol City, Joie Stadium, FA Women’s Super League
Fifteen. 21/10/23, 3pm, Manchester City 2-1 Brighton, Premier League, Etihad Stadium
Sixteen. 25/10/23, 2pm, BSC Young Boys 0-4 Manchester City, UEFA Youth League, Stockhorn Arena
Seventeen. 25/10/23, 9pm, BSC Young Boys 1-3 Manchester City, Champions League, Wankdorf Stadium
Eighteen. TBC.
/////
Over time, I’m hoping to add previous seasons, starting with the historic 2022/23 season. We’ll see.
The Bear Necessities
Bern, baby Bern. What a glorious city with the river Aare horseshoe-shaped around the glorious Altstadt. The capital of Bern is as green as it is old-carved rocks. Sweeping views from the Bundehaus parliament buildings look out onto the distant Swiss Alps. Autumn leaves fall and mingle with stray butterflies, whilst the odd buzz of a bee makes a passerby question the seasons.
Starting with a walk from Newton Heath to Manchester at an ungodly hour, a steady train to Manchester Airport led to a wander to terminal three. Here, Ryanair had more priority boarding passengers than regular folk. A swift 7am flight to Cologne and Bonn Airport preceded a quick train to Köln, long before lunchtime. After an expansive and expensive salad, the train to Basel SBB station in Switzerland was equally hurried. The most part of the journey on flat land with the Rhein river close by and the foothills of the Black Forest gateaux mountains to the east.
Arriving at Bern for teatime meant a long day. Checking into the cosy Hostel 77, it would have been rude not to wander around the darkened old town in the evening. Spying a light show on the Bundeshaus parliament frontage and Manchester City’s travelling coaches were pleasant experiences but the haunting bells of
Outside of wanders around the UNESCO heritage medieval covered shops and fountains along the streets, a trip out of town by train to Thun was on the cards. The 101/100 zone tourist ticket covered two zones. A further 28 Swiss Francs covered the 6 zones of the journey. Within 30 minutes, it was possible to visit Thun and see the castle, many great Alpine mountain peaks, and the Eiger (from a distance). As a child seeing George Lazenby star as spy-womaniser James Bond, 007, the scenes from On Her Majesty’s Secret Service looked breathtaking. From a distance, I could imagine scenes from Ian Fleming’s text and varied Bond movies.
On my pocket, Anthony Horowitz’s With A Mind To Kill, didn’t get any reading time. The views from Thun and the exhibition of Manchester City’s under-19 team in the UEFA Youth League playing at the Stockhorn Arena was enough entertainment. The 10,000-seater stadium was about 8% full. Maybe 9%. I’m sure a statistician would question my maths. The four goals for City were as majestic as the surrounding views, and the Stockhornbahn AG-sponsored stadium was atmospheric. The young crowd enthusiastically cheering on both City and the hosts BSC Young Boys.
As Mike Summerbee and Nedum Onuoha, amongst others, watched on, the view of the Eiger and surrounds featured rainbows (perhaps Switzerland has pots of gold), clouds and glorious sunshine. The stadium is named after a cable car company named after a mountain and Fussballclub Thun 1898, who operate the stadium and put on a good show. Free entrance. Much needed.
The trip was, of course, to see Manchester City grace the hallowed AstroTurf of BSC Young Boys at the Wankdorf Stadium. The game was a bash. Manager Pep Guardiola shuffled his hand on the ground built over a Co-Op supermarket and a plethora of shops. The blue and whites made to work hard for their win left with three Champions League points and probably a few AstroTurf grazes. I don’t miss those days!
The joy of the light show at the Bundeshaus, a wander (or two) in Köln, a quick walk to the Wasserturm in Mannheim, and all the bits in between lasted from Tuesday to Thursday. So much to do. So much to see. So little time. Treasure life. Peace and love.
In Memory of Francis Lee
Franny Lee was to many Blues, something to everyone. It’s hard to grow up in a City household or one of football and not know the greats of each club. Usually, it’s the big clubs. Often, the clubs who are making the most impact at the time. The name Franny Lee will be known to many Citizens.
As part of the treble trinity that was Bell, Lee and Summerbee, those who watched City from ’67 to ’74 will know of Lee. Those who followed City from 1994 will know Lee experienced an ill-fated spell as Chairman. His heart was there. City and the off-field conditions were not. Those who knew of the Maine Road to City of Manchester Stadium transition will know that Lee was involved behind the scenes. In fact, Lee sold his final shares in 2007 to Thaksin Shinawatra. Without Franny appointing Alan Ball, City may never have had fan favourites and legends in Georgi Kinkladze and Paul Dickov. Relegation and promotions may have happened differentl. Who knows.
The Forwards With Franny and We Want Franny badges have their place in time. What can never be argued against is that the former Bolton Wanderers player Francis Lee fell in love with City. Lee One Pen, as he was known for his penalty taking (and gaining) would have been a Video Assistant Referee nightmare had the game have had such technology then. Following retirement and games at Derby County (where he won the league), the ex-England forward went into business selling toilet rolls and other things.
Franny Lee cut an imposing figure on the field, and I can see why my Dad and Grandad rewatched VHS highlights and instilled my passion I to City’s history. At one time, growing up, history was all we had, but through players like Franny Lee, I could connect to glory long before 2011 arrived and City’s purchase power of Brasso became legendary once again.
I didn’t see him play, but I did say hello, get the odd signed bit, here and there. I listened to interviews on television as I grew into following City at an early age. Manchester City’s characters like Lee, and moments like the Ricky Hatton-style punch up with Norman Hunter, or those photos from the league win in Newcastle, will always stand out. And the shirt. Iconic. The style. The class. Footballers now don’t wear shirts in the same way. Franny Lee made the shirt his. Around 250 games with almost half as many goals is a statement statistic to be proud of, for any City player.
Born in Westhoughton, Franny Lee was drawn here. He never left. Not deep down. He’ll always be behind us. Even in absence. A true legend of the game. Eternally, one of our own.
Francis Henry Lee CBE (29th April 1944 – 2nd October 2023), always known as Franny Lee
Thank Athens.
A stench of heated and dried piss, dead kittens, riot Police and crippling heat are just some of the things Athens offers. And graffiti. On the positive side, thousands of years of preserved cultures, warfare history, sports, and great cuisine are to be had.
Accommodation was booked via Airbnb. A basic room with access to a shower was all I needed. The lodging on 4-8 Delfon (Kalithea), once found after a lengthy walk, did the job. Although standing in the shower, I found the top of my head touching the ceiling. The shower itself is more of a half-bath with a seated step and a shower hose and head, unattached to the wall. The sink and toilet were more functional, thankfully. A kitchen, straight out of the stereotypical filmsets of U.S.S.R. rounded off the communal areas, with a small balcony hosting a decent washing machine. The bedroom, bland, but cosy had the necessary air-conditioning unit.
Beyond the Airbnb lodging, Athens offers ample walking opportunities and plenty of ruins. Ruins in subway stations. Ruins by the road. Ruins in parks. Ruins, modern and old. This ancient city has experienced quite a modern crash of its own. Successive economic nosedive, political turmoil, earthquakes, and a lack of tourism during the CoViD-19 pandemic have ensured that you’re never far away from another ruin, abandoned outlet or sign that things aren’t so well. Not that the U.K. is any better.
The constant summer sunshine and incessant heat are stark reminders of recent wild fires and how the climate of August 2023 isn’t quite balanced. With that in mind, I hopped from shadow to shadow, under every available tree like a kangaroo-sized squirrel. Breaking to drink more and more water, fruit juices, and some much needed nibbles allowed some respite from the overhead sun. Hadrian’s Library, exposed to the baking solar rays, allowed viewing of wild tortoises and the first proper gander in a closed area of ruins.
The impressive columns, shattered walls, and flooring of Hadrian’s Library are impressive. The baking heat under your feet equally of impact. With toes on fire, hopping around the views led to an eventual passage to Piraeus and the Super League fanzone by UEFA. Satisfied the fanzone was not too exciting, save for photo opportunities with a range of Treble-winning Manchester City’s silverware and the UEFA Super Cup, I scattered for a coastal wander of Piraeus. The relentless heat guaranteed a sit down, some great local scran, and a few beers. Following that, a game of football at the G.K. Stadium, involving City’s win over Spanish side Sevilla. The win, on penalties, concluded just after midnight. It was probably the first time I saw a football game live ending the following morning.
City had won the UEFA Super Cup of their debut. Fittingly, it wasn’t far from the historic Panathenaic Stadium (also known as Kallimarmaro, meaning beautiful marble). This flash stadium has origins as far back as 330BC, remodelled in 144AD, and was rebuilt in 1896 (two years after Manchester City’s name began) as the first modern Olympic Stadium. Every Olympic flame handover is completed here before travelling to the host country and city. Without the Olympic Games, there would have been no British Empire Games, then Commonwealth Games, and no events in Manchester during 2002. Manchester City may not have left Maine Road for the now Etihad Stadium. The UEFA Super Cup may not have been lifted. Cheers Athens for helping Manchester City progress.
Amongst other wanders of Athens, several football grounds (the churches of football fans) were visited. The impressive Agia Sophia Stadium actually had a church Chapel inside (next to the bookmakers and the bookmakers). As impressive as the A.E.K. Stadium was, the dilapidated stadium of Panathinaikos could easily be mistaken as heavily graffiti-covered ruins. The whole city of Athens, to be fair, is daubed with varying football teams and their tribal colours. Gate 13, the cheaper seats in years gone by, gives its name to a supporter group and hooligan outfit. The gravity of the dark graffiti is bleak. Leoforos Alexandras Stadium was opened in 1922 and probably had more gallons of spray paint on the outside than years of existence.
Whilst I get the homage to working class seating areas, I do not understand the need for violence at football. Gate 13 has a bizarre friendship with Dinamo Zagreb ultras. This likely contributed to Zagreb thugs fatally stabbing an A.E.K. fan, ahead of a Champions League game. Over 100 Croatians attended court in the aftermath of a bloody night. This happened at a game where away fans were actually banned in advance. Many others were injured and hospitalised. The game was postponed as a result. A.E.K. rightly questioned how the game could go ahead. Rest in peace, Michalis.
“There is) no place for violence and hooliganism in European football” – Margaritis Schinas, vice president of the European Commission & Greek politician
A diverse visit to Athens for ruins, football, and reflection concluded with an early morning taxi to the airport. I dropped my luggage off after checking in. It would be the best part of a week before Aegean Airlines would get my backpack back to me. Still, as with others going to see the football, at least I came back safe and sound. Nobody should go to see a sack of air being twatted around by foot, and not return.
Good luck İlkay Gündoğan
Irreplaceable
loveable
kind-hearted
accountable
yes, he can
8
Gracious
ünbelievable
natural talent
das genie
out-of-this-world
ğlorious
assertive
never ever to be forgotten memories.
Dear UEFA…
Below is a draft letter:
ADDRESS TO: UEFA, CHAMPIONS LEAGUE, Football Supporters’ Association, City Official Supporters Club, Manchester City, City Matters, Fans Europe, TBC, etc…
RE: LETTER OF DISSATISFACTION
Dear Sir or Madam,
I wish to express my complete dissatisfaction of many aspects experienced before, during and after the UEFA Champions League final in Istanbul. I understand that UEFA has disclaimers and small print to cover some of these matters, but that is a poor excuse for the overall ineptitude on display. I politely request you review the matters below and apply strategies to future events to avoid such a wealth of embarrassment.
On arrival to İstanbul Sabiha Gökçen Airport, at 11:00am, I immediately stepped onto the first coach which said MAN CITY – Yenikapi. After less than an hour into the advised 1.5 hour [as advised via the UEFA fan app and uefa.com ] the coach’s engine was pumping smoke out. The driver pulled into a service station and said to “wait twenty minutes”. I didn’t mind it, and most supporters were understanding. We grabbed food and waited about an hour for a replacement coach. The coach did a tour of Turkey, passing the Atatürk Olympic Stadium, before heading back into the centre, missing turn after turn, whilst the driver kept asking passing motorists for directions. The coach arrived at the UEFA Champions Festival for 4:00pm. I entered the festival, used the toilet and went to find how when to get the coach to the stadium.
Time spent on a bus: 4 hours.
After joining a queue, exposed to direct sunlight coach 3 departed into traffic, arriving at the fan zone of the Atatürk Olympic Stadium. The temporary car park and pathways were unwelcoming but not a hindrance for the mobile. I did see several fans helping people pass over the uneven surface to the City fanzone. The queues for food at the fanzone and the lack of options to drink were unpleasant but expected with such large crowds at 7:00pm. I asked for an ice-cold Heineken® Original but couldn’t get one as the man serving advised that they’d ran out. I went to another tent and found a beer to enjoy, but couldn’t queue for food as the service was beyond reasonable.
Time spent on a bus: 2.5 hours.
After this, I walked through another security check. Yenikapi had two bag checks. The fanzone had two bag checks to enter. A further two bag checks was made before walking to the stadium along the ten-minute route. On entering the gate, I had my bag checked at three points. The final bag check, the man emptied my small A4 bag clumsily. He refused to allow a 50ml sunblock container, my smaller-than-phone-sized power bank and a small packet of rivaroxaban (with just 2 pills left). I snatched the latter back, which was wrestled from my hand by the steward, and asked to see a supervisor or boss, and that boss refused the permitted items. Bizarrely, they overlooked the loose coins in my bag. Using what little dignity, I had I picked the rivaroxaban from the rubbish bag and emptied a tablet into my hand and swallowed it. I needed it for the flight back on the next day. Two 20mg tablets of the anticoagulant decreases the risk of developing Deep vein thrombosis (DVT) dramatically. The steward and supervisor laughed at me and I walked away.
Before the game the service for food and water was acceptable, save the 5 Euro price of water for tiny-little plastic cups. I hydrated and purchased enough for the game. However, by half time I was severely dehydrated, dry and had a sore throat. I went to queue for water. After 15 minutes of half-time, I was still queuing and listening to the haggling of those selling water at the counter by block 332/331. I could hear City fans being offered a 1.5L bottle of Pepsi for 35 Euros! By the time Rodri scored on 68 minutes, I hadn’t been served. I’d missed the goal of the top-level competition in Europe and I couldn’t celebrate properly because I was past thirsty. Around the 75 minutes mark, I was served but had to argue the 10 Euro price of the advertised water at 5 Euros. The counter man said it was “bigger” than other water bottles earlier. I even had to haggle for Pepsi and paid 15 Euros because there was no hope of getting a drink later. This is a great shame. The region deserves a greater profile and the culture is amazingly diverse. This was not a good advertisement. This buffoonish fan experience was a yarn with little pleasant anecdote.
When Rodri scored, and I missed the goal, the server of the drinks and food even recorded the fan reaction of the crowd behind me, ignoring the angry and annoyed fans in front of him. Others behond the counter behaved similarly.
After the game, I tried to use the toilet to vomit, as dehydration curing by Pepsi hadn’t gone well. I rushed behind the signs in the Fanzone to find a plethora of campervans spewing with rancid faeces and urine. The vomit added to the tarmac of disgust.
The joy of seeing your club lift the trophy quickly became a reality call, that a bus journey was needed to get back to İstanbul Sabiha Gökçen Airport. Post-match buses to the airport were scattered around a toxic fume-pumping atmosphere of stationary cars and coaches. The waiting point was blocked by a bus unable to move, and only after forty minutes did a lesser-spotted steward advise that the bus was “somewhere down a road or in the car parks at the back”. He advised me to go look for the bus. Walking on uneven stones, through cars edging impatiently and leaving little room for movement, I became thankful that I did not bring my son to the game. This was no safe place for a family and a kid. Eventually, I jumped onto a bus with other fans. Here, the bus edged out of the car park during a two-hour period. On meeting other fans at the airport, I was told of people who had had their phones stolen, passports snatched, and other permitted items seized at the stadium.
Time spent on a bus: 4.5 hours.
Is it acceptable to spend 11 hours on shuttle buses? As, the premier cup of European nations, the UEFA Champions League is supposed to outshine every tournament in the region. On reflection, I truly believe the final to be the most underwhelming experience I have experienced. I compare this to remarkable cycling (track and road), rugby league, athletics, martial arts and other experiences that I, or friends and family, have attended over the last three decades. I do not expect a response, although one is certainly welcomed. I feel that UEFA’s Super Cup in Athens and future finals will be difficult to attend without worry and anxiety.
Key points:
1. Two concessions stands for the away end curve of the stadium.
2. Insufficient stewarding and staffing.
3. No simplified WiFi access for fans travelling overseas.
4. A lack of functioning toilets.
5. Gravel carpark and exposed fan zone areas with little shelter from sunlight.
6. Lengthy shuttle bus journeys without access to water or toilets.
7. UEFA branded tape on stadium steps came loose, causing a huge tripping hazard.
Yours faithfully,
J.R. Acton
Other notes: FSA survey completed.
City official dossier? Consider UEFA review?
No UEFA response, consider an ombudsman
COME ON CITY!
This is for the fan who couldn’t get a ticket; this shout for the one who couldn’t afford it; this is a cheer for those no longer here; raising a glass, singing we’re not really here!
COME ON CITY
A dedication to the fan of Sun Jihai who followed him and then followed us, hooked to the buzz, the love, the passion of the South Stand, the joy of following City over land and sea (and Stretford), the York massive and the gatecrashers at Blackburn.
COME ON CITY!
This is a call to all, to follow the ball, and head it and kick it and shout it into thar onion bag at the other end. Cry out loud, cry out proud, Poznan, and bounce, swing uour scarves and poor out your hearts.
COME ON CITY!
To those who followed Gerry Gow’s moustache, Ball on the bench, Pearce’s sensational home team, Santa’s Cruz’s wobbly knee, Ireland’s Superman lingerie range, Uwe and his ancestors, the Doyle generations, or cold nights in Hyde watching our future.
COME ON CITY!
To the women’s team, done and dusted; to the under 16s, under 18s and EDS champions at rest; to the loanstars on their way back; Perrone and Co overseas; to the subs and the starring eleven…
COME ON CITY!
To the dreamers and schemers, they always believe us, the rioters and chargers or fields, and all who wear the pride in battle of blue and white… no matter what happens today, yesterday or tomorrow, we say:
COME ON CITY!
Shipping Out.
19th January 1863
Dear Manchester,
put your money where your mouth is, this slavery malarkey has to end. End of.
Peace and love,
Abe Lincoln
(P.S. United don’t exist as a club yet, but they’ll probably worship the devil).
The above letter is a paraphrased example. Like much of the world Manchester was wearing the latest clothing of the time around that time. Gucci? Not born. Cotton? Everywhere. The bustling smog of Manchester coated moths, as much as provided clothing to men and women alike. Transgenders were around but less represented. It was, of course, different times. Cash was made. Lots of it. Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels had met in Manchester a few years earlier and released their Waterstones best seller The Condition of the Working Class in England. Jack Reacher novels were nowhere to be seen.
Turn-und Sportverein München von 1860 hadn’t even started kicking a football until 1899. Die Blauen had other sports, and all could have worn cotton garments made in Lancashire. Those kits wouldn’t have featured cotton picked by slaves in the U.S. of A. No. No way. Lancastrian workers had principles. Rather than make a quick Queen Victoria penny, cotton mill workers took a stand. Southern bastards from U.S.of A. were attacking their northern kin and union. The Confederacy could no longer count on cash from much of the north west of England. Unlike England’s Liverpool, where Confederate flags flew proudly. As some households went hungry, more than half of the mills and looms lay silent.
“I know and deeply deplore the sufferings which the working-men of Manchester, and in all Europe, are called to endure in this crisis” – letter: To the Working-men of Manchester, Abraham Lincoln.
Manchester’s Manchester Guardian opposed the blockades. It wanted to put food back on the people’s table. Yet, workers gathered in the Free Trade Hall stuck two fingers up at a proposal to drop the blockade. They backed Abraham Lincoln and his northern union. Starvation and destitution followed. A tad like how the prices of tomatoes have been on the rise after the U.K. backed the Ukraine, whilst simultaneously telling Europe to go away. As the army read the riot act, and Lincoln (the man, not the city) earned himself a future statue in Manchester, praising “”sublime Christian heroism”. Ships full of provisions were also sent, which was a relief for many in Manchester. Within two years slavery was added to the U.S. Constitution and Manchester’s mills were back pumping crap into the air, allowing families to feed themselves once again.
Abraham Lincoln’s fate wasn’t so pleasant and before he had chance to visit Manchester, he was gunned down. This process has been repeated a few times since and seems integral to U.S. culture.
So, when The Guardian, The Daily Mail, etc. manipulate headlines to flag Manchester City, and even MUFC’s crest as being a symbol of slavery, they need to dig into their research skills and work on their journalistic talents before blindly printing misinformation. Even the Manchester Evening News and MUFC’s historian had the decency to highlight the city’s backing of the abolitionist movement. The Manchester Guardian, founder, John Edward Taylor had partnerships with slavers and their companies. History is littered with profits being made over humanity. Let’s learn from it. We’re better for it. We can’t hide our history!
Man U added their ship to a badge in 1902. City used Manchester’s heraldic design from 1894 to 1960. The ship on both is that of a merchant ship to symbolise the city’s link to the Manchester Ship Canal. The Guardian’s writer connects the ship to black history in an insulting an incorrect way. History matters. Get it right. Stop trying to revise history and change a country’s shame based on a misplaced reckoning.
The Guardian writer Simon Hattenstone even suggested the bee of Manchester’s industry replaces the ship. If he had been a tad more industrial in his research and knowledge, he may have published a more compelling argument. Instead, he created a woke debate and accidentally made The Sun look like a paper of good response. And to agree with Man Utd historian J.P. Neill, I close with this quote: “’Not only did the club badges long post-date the abolition of slavery, the clubs themselves were only founded decades after slavery was ended.”
My World Football XI
Some might say that I am too biased toward Manchester City. And, they would be right. Of course. First choice. Only choice. It’s in the blood. That doesn’t mean I don’t watch other teams. I like nothing more than seeing Aberystwyth Town on S4C or the Vanarama National League on BT Sport. I prefer going to live games and dive in and out of non-league games as and when feasible.
As footy fans, we know nothing and nor do the PFA or the leagues. City have 0 winners of the PFA Fans’ Player of the Year. Only Leicester and Spurs have a winner outside of ManUre, LiVARpoo, Ar$e, and Chelsea… There’s an element of bias and the Premier League has grown far too powerful in shaping our influence. La Liga too. The Bundesliga and Serie A feature heavily. Football has a popular landscape, and a broad landscape sits beneath it.
Select an XI (+7 subs) from your favourite players of all time. The rules are numerous:
1. There are no players who are currently playing.
2. One player from one nation, however, one substitute, can have a repeated nation.
3. No Manchester CITY players, past or present.
4. They must have been playing in your lifetime.
5. A balanced number of defenders, midfielders, strikers/forwards, and 2 goalkeepers.
GK: Jussi Jääskeläinen (Finland)
DEF: Frank Rijkaard (Netherlands), Daniel Gabbidon (Wales), John Mensah (Ghana), Kakha Kaladze (Georgia)
MID: Matt Le Tissier (England), Andrea Pirlo (Italy), Michael Ballack (Germany)
ATT: Gheorghe Hagi (Romania), Romário (Brazil), Andriy Shevchenko (Ukraine)
Subs: Yakubu Ayegbeni (Nigeria), Pavel Nedvěd (Czech Republic), Stiliyan Petrov (Bulgaria), Brad Friedel (USA), Franck Ribéry (France), Arjen Robben (Netherlands), Lorik Cana (Albania)
I always enjoyed watching The Yak at Everton, and Petrov seemed an amazing club member at Villa and Celtic. Jääskeläinen struck me as the kind of keeper a club needs for coaching, encouraging, and reliability. Although I’d say Friedel was the better goalkeeper, I think Jääskeläinen would be the bigger voice in a squad. Le Tissier deservedly remains a club legend at Southampton and won’t be too well known by the international goat brigade that love and cherish Ronaldo (the crap one) and Messi – although Le Tissier deserved a bigger crowd.
Pirlo was a sublime player and won awards for both his play and achievements. Great hair, too. Ballack didn’t shy from challenges. Rijkaard and Robben are two of the greatest players I’ve seen from the Netherlands. Cana, lesser known, was a brilliant player, much like Kaladze from Georgia, who both seemed to go under the radar. Perhaps their better-known fellow countrymen had more awards.
Choosing the best XI players not to have played for City wasn’t easy. Balancing their nations and positions was also a challenge. Football is a complex machine. Many will agree and disagree with my choices. Rightfully so. We all have opinions.
11th January MMXXIII
The 11th day of the Gregorian calendar. 354 days of 2023 remain. In Tunisia, it is Children’s Day. In England, Southampton F.C. host Manchester City in the E.F.L. League Cup. In. Nepal, Prithvi Jayanti is being celebrated.
January is a time of sales, newness, and winter blues in the northern hemisphere. My younger sister Astrid was born on the 20th day of this month and remains to this day, my younger sibling. Also, she’d be a star if Astrid found more hobbies. A new year means resolutions and opportunities to start something fresh. Go on, Astrid, give it a try! Spring is coming soon…
Newness means looking at new ideas. Talking about baby names with my future Prime Minister friend, some oddities were suggested. Brahma Timothy Dalton Kiki Glauber Berti Acton was not considered, although it was recalled by my mate Brahma as a great baby name suggestion. No chance. Maltese rebel Vincenzo Borg, born on this date in 1777, stood a better chance. Also born on this day was SAS founder Paddy Mayne. The name Mayne has a good ring to it. It sounds like Maine. Maine Road? Very direct. A main road. Never cross the main road, as were told as a kid. Never cross the Maine Road, as Manchester United fans used to say.
Suggested names often link to history, time, and dates. In the month of the wolf moon, Wrestler Mick “The Dulwich Destroyer” McManus was born on this day. Combining the letters of man with the letter u isn’t appropriate. He was born on the same date a few years before Arthur Scargill. They are in good company with Bud Acton, my all-time favourite basketball player. I’m fibbing. I don’t really like basketball. The Manchester Giants are okay. Manchester City are better. İlkay Gündoğan plays for the boys in blue. İlkay means first moon.
Today is former Halifax Town striker Jamie Vardy’s birthday. To save money on a party, he and former Manchester City player Leroy Sané can organise a joint party reading Thomas Hardy books in the memory of the great wordsmith. A photo of great mountaineering humanitarian Sir Edmund Hilary could be placed on a wall behind a breathalyser to ensure party guests don’t drive home under the influence of alcohol. That great invention by Welsh inventor Tom Parry Jones has probably saved more lives by being a deterrent than not. So, that all can appreciate the Chinese calendar year…
The Chinese year is somewhere between 4719 or 4659, 壬寅年 (water tiger) to 4720 or 4660 癸卯年 (water rabbit). Give or take. China has recently reopened and gives me a chance to try and book a flight back soon whilst applying for the visa. Perhaps I can call via Croatia, which has now fully adopted the Euro coinage, and will abandon the kuna as a currency in 4 days. These days, I’d simply favour a stable job and some pounds or RMB to help the future move along smoothly.
Indigo is a cool sounding word and same. It has passed from the Greek word, ‘indikon’, meaning ‘from India’ to Latin into common usage English. It reflects the meaning of a purplish blue colour produced by a plant with a similar name, Indigofera tinctoria. In naming formats for kids, it is gender-neutral and apparently appeared as far back as the year 1436. Marco Polo (1254-8 January 1324) is believed to have first brought back the plant and dye instructions to Europe. These days, the plants are often known to improve soil and bring new life to earth. This plant obviously provides a natural compound that allows blue to be added to clothes, canvas, and a multitude of materials. Naturally, I’m a blue as a Manchester City fan. Blue is natural. Look at the skies* and the sea. [*unless in Manchester, on this sodden wet morning]. There’s something about the moon and blue that feels right.
12:46pm China time, in Huizhou. 04:46am, Greenwich Mean Time…
The moon is rising.
AGAINST THE FLOW OF TRAFFIC - ACTON28.BLOG 