Colin Bell the King
03 May 2005, 11:02 AM
Man, could I identify with what he said. Its a true read for any football fan in the world as you will all be able to identify with it in some way. Its probably the closest thing on paper explaining just how someone can become quite so fanatical about football as we are. Massive respect to this bloke. Anyway, heres the post. Its long I tell you!
Just fancy a loooong ramble about how much football means to me.
Basically I wasn't interested in professional football until I hit 12. I had been to a few games as a kid before on the old Kippax, the standing terrace, as a nipper but I never watched the games and just ran between the legs of adults with my friend Sam and ginger Adam who went with thier dads too.
When I was 12 though, it hit me. One day I decided to support a professional team, deciding who to support I sent off application forms to Man United and Man City for thier junior schemes. Man United never respnded to my letter whilst Man City did. They made me feel like a part of the family so thats why I began supporting them.
Its scary how close the line between becoming a red or a blue was for me. I could've gone either way. If Man United had replied quicker than Man City I would've been a red, singing about the Stretford End and City being small, but thankfully they never did. I still get embarrased about it now as I have a deep loathing for Man United, yet as a kid I had two Man United shirts I wore for football. The grey away one and the old Green and Yellow Newton Heath style shirt. Man I'm glad I never became a red.
Anyway, my first game as a proper fully fledged City fan was Chelsea at home, December 23rd 1994 (or 1995) in the North Stand. We lost one nil to a Sparky Hughes goal. I spent more time watching the game than the crowd though and didn't really feel anything for the team. However, the next season when we got relegated there was the first proper game where I felt a loathing for the away fans and frustrated that City were ********.
Sunderland at home. They were riding high in Division One, yet as a 13 year old I was confident that we would win. My anger when being in the North Stand near the Sunderland fans who were very vocal cemented it for me. I was on the first row. Kevin Phillips scored for Sunderland and all I remember was this loud booming noise as the 3,000 travelling Mackems celebrated by going **********in mental. I could just make out the thousands of thrashing arms as everyone around me went mental at them. I watched in astonishment as a pint glass sailed over towards them from behind me. That was an education and I never knew how passionate fans could get before that. I'm deaf in the ear facing the Mackems but jesus, that noise they made as they scored was just unbelievable. I cried on the way home. I try as I can but I cannot remember the Chelsea fans making any atmosphere at all in the first game, which is probably why I went away feeling indfferent.
The next season, the season we got relegated to Division 2 I remember being at the first home game, again in the North Stand against Portsmouth, confident that our record signing Lee Bradbury would crush the world and Europe (God, was I blind) but a 2-2 draw snatched from the defeats of victory left me depressed once again, but sucked me more into the trap of City fandom. I did a few more games that season. Tranmere (0-1 to them), Oxford United (0-4 to them - we left early) and a few other games I cant remember, but I think we lost them). Yet what amazed me that season was the fact that even though we were **********in shite 28,000 still turned up week in week out.
Division 2 was when it started to really matter. I started going in the Platt Lane and remember two freezing games at Chesterfield and Bournemouth (Kid for a quid), then Millwall happened. I had heard of football hooliganism but at the time I didnt know just how bad it could get. We won 4-1, yet 1,500 Millwall charged the north stand. Me and my mate Karl who went to that game talked about nothing else the Monday at school. We were in awe and although we were weedy 14/15 year olds we were sure that if we had been in the North Stand we would've terrorised the hell out of those bad Millwall fans. How naive we were. ;)
Stoke at home. The turning point. I was in the Kippax for that one. Rosler scored a goal and we won the most important game of the season. We were mid table in division 2, playing ********. and needed a win. We got it and my faith in City began to grow, cumulating in us being crowded around my uncles TV set for the Gillingham playoff final. (We tried getting tickets for three days but couldnt. It was a nightmare. 12 hour queues, people queuing overnight just to get a ticket. Mini stampedes at the ticket office, violence flaring up when people cut in the queue. They had the TV cameras out. I remember going down at like 4pm on a Thursday afternoon trying to get a ticket. Maine Road was like a matchday. Over 5,000 blues trying to get a ticket. The phone lines jammed, so it was impossible to get a ticket. I cried at the pointlessness of it all. I wanted a ticket, but so did 45,000 other people.
So anyway, I was sat there in stunned silence as we went down 2-0 in the 88th minute. Yet the next five minutes is probably the closest feeling to ecstasy that I have ever had. When Dickov scored to equalise for City everyone watching the game at my Uncles went into a foaming, seething rugby scrum, bouncing about. Most important goal City have EVER scored. If we hadnt of scored that we would've been in the ******** for years. JOE ROYLES BLUE AND WHITE ARMY. We were back in Division 1 and the blue moon was rising.
We got a season ticket for division 1. Bloody glad I did too as I was able to see the boys every single home game. Maine Road was a sellout most games, and we were lucky that year, Scrapped for wins. I remember Grimsby at home when the Goat bagged a last minute win and I fell over the row in front in ecstasy.
Our final home game of the season was Birmingham. The North stand was in full voice that day and I remember seeing them act like writhing maggots when Bob Taylor scored in front of them from the platt lane. Then we invaded the pitch and I remember being crushed at the front, bouncing about, cheering when Mark Kennedy got into the Maine Stand to celebrate with us.
Then we went to Blackburn. I didnt go. I were ill and didn't have enough ticket stubs to go. I watched in amazement on the TV as the 8,000 city fans in the away end, and easily the same in the home ends, plus the thousands on the hill outside the ground and in the pubs made the atmosphere elctrifying. Our joy at our second half revival after being 1-0 down was sweet. We were back in the premiership!
Oh how I wished that summer would go by. I had finished my GCSEs, my last proper summer as a kid, and yet I wanted nothing of it. I just wanted Sunderland at home to come. The double signing of Weah and Wanchope excited me fully. But I just wanted to beat Sunderland to ease the still lingering pain of being 13, and realising for the first time that life doesnt always go the way you want it to do. a 4-2 win with Wanchope bordering on the sublime eased the 4-0 drubbing to Charlton we had suffered, and a battling win at Leeds made me confident we'd stay up.
Of course we didnt. We got relegated at Ipswich away. We still invaded the pitch at the last home game and sang our support for Joe Royle and the boys. I got on the pitch. The next thing I remember was our boys in the north stand had invaded the Chelsea end, a roar went up and me and my dad made a dignified exit from the ground. Hooliganism was still evident in the late 90's. Some people might not like it, but for me, that was a factor in loving City. Being able to watch groups of lads shouting at the away fans. It was like being in an uncaged zoo. Terribly exciting, but you knew you were safe. For the first few years Maine Road still had an atmosphere of rowdiness and I'm glad I started going then, rather than now where it resembles a souless bucket at times.
We sacked Joe Royle, and signed Kevin Keegan up. I remember being so excited at hearing the news. We creamed division one that season, beat Ipswich in the FA Cup, they were in the prem, and gave Newcastle a hell of a game. I loved that season. We broke more or less every club record and thrashed so many teams. (6-2 vs Sheff Weds, 5-0 vs Burnley and we were invincible even when 10 men down - Norwich and Millwall at home)
The next season was my final season before starting to go to away games. We beat Man United 3-1. The explosion of joy as Anelka put us ahead is something I will carry to my grave. The Platt Lane was a seething mass of humanity, and the point in the second half when every last fooker in that end stood up in unision to join in with Blue Moon is a great image that I think about when bored or whatever. I was 18 rows up. The first few rows stood up and it was like a wave as every man and his dog stood up too and raised thier hands aloft. The blokes and women who never sang were singing. It meant so much to us.
Then last season was the season I did away games proper. I had done Liverpool in the cup the season before but that was a bad experience as we had 9,000 down and we were right with the hooligan element who intimidated my ma. I didnt mind but it was a bit unnerving. Anyway, TNS away in the cup was my first proper away. We took 10,000 down, and were winning 5-1 from the first leg. It took 8 hours to get to Cardiff due to crap traffic. If im honest the away experience wasn't that good, but then came Blackburn away in the league when we went top of the league.
I was amongst the singing contingent for that game, and it was an education. I had finally found the set of fans I wanted to be a part of, and I really enjoyed myself, singing 'We are top of the league' going out of the Darwen End. Just made me think about the ******** we suffered not long ago in Div 2. And here we were. Top team in England for a while and how we loved it.
Then it was Lokeren away. I went. Got a ticket somehow. This was my first introduction to football and beer. I was already a drinker but didnt drink at games. Went with my mate. We got plastered and spent the whole game merrily belting out song after song with the rest of the fans joining in with us. Now thats why I go to football. For a few beers, a laugh with your mates, see the boys play away, in a ground that doesnt feel your own and thus is enemy territory. That season was great. Travelling to so many new grounds and gawping at how different they looked on the TV.
And this season. I've done most of them. Loved every minute. My mate Karl got into it as much as me and we've had some top days out together, drinking ourselves ragged, singing for the boys, going mad when we score, taking our shirts off in joy at Palace away. Nowdays its less about going to see the team play, and more about being with a passionate crowd who you can have a laugh with. Which is why I love aways far more than homes.
Now I am where I am, I feel sorry for the people who support teams like Manchester United and have never experienced the ******** years. My feeling of joy at beating Gillingham cannot be matched ever again, unless we win a cup or the league, and its nice supporting a team you know wont win the league year in year out, I live for football, I live for away days, and I live for the camaderie on the terraces, where you're part of a pissed up football family.
If you dont do games, you cant compete, and I'm sorry if you disagree with me, but you're missing out. If you look at the fans who do every game and wonder why they do it I can tell you.... its because being an active fan is the best buzz in the world you can ever have. Being with an almost garanteed sell out away crowd at various shitholes of the north and south, banding together, loudly joining in with the chants and that.
But I also love it because on that rare occasion we score first and we erupt in a foaming mass of bouncing fans my mind drifts back to Sunderland at home and I wonder if there is a 13 year old kid in the home end looking at us in frustration, realising that life doesn't turn out the way you always want it to. I'm part of that Sunderland crowd and hes the kid in the quiet City end looking gutted. Sounds cruel, but in a way its revenge and a sort of release of the hurt I suffered that day. But I do know that if that kid turns out to be anything like me then he will love the next 30/40 years of his life.
At the end of the day, everyone has thier passions in life. Mine is travelling the width and breadth of England every second weekend and being part of a crowd who only want two things.
A city win but most of all a right mental day out.
CIIIIIIIIIITY BOYS, WE'RE ON THE PISS AGAIN
CIIIIIIIIIIITY BOYS, WE'RE ON THE PISS AGAIN
CIIIIIIIIIITY BOYS, WE'RE ON THE PISS AGAIN
ONE BANANA
TWO BANANA
THREE BANANA
FOUR!
Just fancy a loooong ramble about how much football means to me.
Basically I wasn't interested in professional football until I hit 12. I had been to a few games as a kid before on the old Kippax, the standing terrace, as a nipper but I never watched the games and just ran between the legs of adults with my friend Sam and ginger Adam who went with thier dads too.
When I was 12 though, it hit me. One day I decided to support a professional team, deciding who to support I sent off application forms to Man United and Man City for thier junior schemes. Man United never respnded to my letter whilst Man City did. They made me feel like a part of the family so thats why I began supporting them.
Its scary how close the line between becoming a red or a blue was for me. I could've gone either way. If Man United had replied quicker than Man City I would've been a red, singing about the Stretford End and City being small, but thankfully they never did. I still get embarrased about it now as I have a deep loathing for Man United, yet as a kid I had two Man United shirts I wore for football. The grey away one and the old Green and Yellow Newton Heath style shirt. Man I'm glad I never became a red.
Anyway, my first game as a proper fully fledged City fan was Chelsea at home, December 23rd 1994 (or 1995) in the North Stand. We lost one nil to a Sparky Hughes goal. I spent more time watching the game than the crowd though and didn't really feel anything for the team. However, the next season when we got relegated there was the first proper game where I felt a loathing for the away fans and frustrated that City were ********.
Sunderland at home. They were riding high in Division One, yet as a 13 year old I was confident that we would win. My anger when being in the North Stand near the Sunderland fans who were very vocal cemented it for me. I was on the first row. Kevin Phillips scored for Sunderland and all I remember was this loud booming noise as the 3,000 travelling Mackems celebrated by going **********in mental. I could just make out the thousands of thrashing arms as everyone around me went mental at them. I watched in astonishment as a pint glass sailed over towards them from behind me. That was an education and I never knew how passionate fans could get before that. I'm deaf in the ear facing the Mackems but jesus, that noise they made as they scored was just unbelievable. I cried on the way home. I try as I can but I cannot remember the Chelsea fans making any atmosphere at all in the first game, which is probably why I went away feeling indfferent.
The next season, the season we got relegated to Division 2 I remember being at the first home game, again in the North Stand against Portsmouth, confident that our record signing Lee Bradbury would crush the world and Europe (God, was I blind) but a 2-2 draw snatched from the defeats of victory left me depressed once again, but sucked me more into the trap of City fandom. I did a few more games that season. Tranmere (0-1 to them), Oxford United (0-4 to them - we left early) and a few other games I cant remember, but I think we lost them). Yet what amazed me that season was the fact that even though we were **********in shite 28,000 still turned up week in week out.
Division 2 was when it started to really matter. I started going in the Platt Lane and remember two freezing games at Chesterfield and Bournemouth (Kid for a quid), then Millwall happened. I had heard of football hooliganism but at the time I didnt know just how bad it could get. We won 4-1, yet 1,500 Millwall charged the north stand. Me and my mate Karl who went to that game talked about nothing else the Monday at school. We were in awe and although we were weedy 14/15 year olds we were sure that if we had been in the North Stand we would've terrorised the hell out of those bad Millwall fans. How naive we were. ;)
Stoke at home. The turning point. I was in the Kippax for that one. Rosler scored a goal and we won the most important game of the season. We were mid table in division 2, playing ********. and needed a win. We got it and my faith in City began to grow, cumulating in us being crowded around my uncles TV set for the Gillingham playoff final. (We tried getting tickets for three days but couldnt. It was a nightmare. 12 hour queues, people queuing overnight just to get a ticket. Mini stampedes at the ticket office, violence flaring up when people cut in the queue. They had the TV cameras out. I remember going down at like 4pm on a Thursday afternoon trying to get a ticket. Maine Road was like a matchday. Over 5,000 blues trying to get a ticket. The phone lines jammed, so it was impossible to get a ticket. I cried at the pointlessness of it all. I wanted a ticket, but so did 45,000 other people.
So anyway, I was sat there in stunned silence as we went down 2-0 in the 88th minute. Yet the next five minutes is probably the closest feeling to ecstasy that I have ever had. When Dickov scored to equalise for City everyone watching the game at my Uncles went into a foaming, seething rugby scrum, bouncing about. Most important goal City have EVER scored. If we hadnt of scored that we would've been in the ******** for years. JOE ROYLES BLUE AND WHITE ARMY. We were back in Division 1 and the blue moon was rising.
We got a season ticket for division 1. Bloody glad I did too as I was able to see the boys every single home game. Maine Road was a sellout most games, and we were lucky that year, Scrapped for wins. I remember Grimsby at home when the Goat bagged a last minute win and I fell over the row in front in ecstasy.
Our final home game of the season was Birmingham. The North stand was in full voice that day and I remember seeing them act like writhing maggots when Bob Taylor scored in front of them from the platt lane. Then we invaded the pitch and I remember being crushed at the front, bouncing about, cheering when Mark Kennedy got into the Maine Stand to celebrate with us.
Then we went to Blackburn. I didnt go. I were ill and didn't have enough ticket stubs to go. I watched in amazement on the TV as the 8,000 city fans in the away end, and easily the same in the home ends, plus the thousands on the hill outside the ground and in the pubs made the atmosphere elctrifying. Our joy at our second half revival after being 1-0 down was sweet. We were back in the premiership!
Oh how I wished that summer would go by. I had finished my GCSEs, my last proper summer as a kid, and yet I wanted nothing of it. I just wanted Sunderland at home to come. The double signing of Weah and Wanchope excited me fully. But I just wanted to beat Sunderland to ease the still lingering pain of being 13, and realising for the first time that life doesnt always go the way you want it to do. a 4-2 win with Wanchope bordering on the sublime eased the 4-0 drubbing to Charlton we had suffered, and a battling win at Leeds made me confident we'd stay up.
Of course we didnt. We got relegated at Ipswich away. We still invaded the pitch at the last home game and sang our support for Joe Royle and the boys. I got on the pitch. The next thing I remember was our boys in the north stand had invaded the Chelsea end, a roar went up and me and my dad made a dignified exit from the ground. Hooliganism was still evident in the late 90's. Some people might not like it, but for me, that was a factor in loving City. Being able to watch groups of lads shouting at the away fans. It was like being in an uncaged zoo. Terribly exciting, but you knew you were safe. For the first few years Maine Road still had an atmosphere of rowdiness and I'm glad I started going then, rather than now where it resembles a souless bucket at times.
We sacked Joe Royle, and signed Kevin Keegan up. I remember being so excited at hearing the news. We creamed division one that season, beat Ipswich in the FA Cup, they were in the prem, and gave Newcastle a hell of a game. I loved that season. We broke more or less every club record and thrashed so many teams. (6-2 vs Sheff Weds, 5-0 vs Burnley and we were invincible even when 10 men down - Norwich and Millwall at home)
The next season was my final season before starting to go to away games. We beat Man United 3-1. The explosion of joy as Anelka put us ahead is something I will carry to my grave. The Platt Lane was a seething mass of humanity, and the point in the second half when every last fooker in that end stood up in unision to join in with Blue Moon is a great image that I think about when bored or whatever. I was 18 rows up. The first few rows stood up and it was like a wave as every man and his dog stood up too and raised thier hands aloft. The blokes and women who never sang were singing. It meant so much to us.
Then last season was the season I did away games proper. I had done Liverpool in the cup the season before but that was a bad experience as we had 9,000 down and we were right with the hooligan element who intimidated my ma. I didnt mind but it was a bit unnerving. Anyway, TNS away in the cup was my first proper away. We took 10,000 down, and were winning 5-1 from the first leg. It took 8 hours to get to Cardiff due to crap traffic. If im honest the away experience wasn't that good, but then came Blackburn away in the league when we went top of the league.
I was amongst the singing contingent for that game, and it was an education. I had finally found the set of fans I wanted to be a part of, and I really enjoyed myself, singing 'We are top of the league' going out of the Darwen End. Just made me think about the ******** we suffered not long ago in Div 2. And here we were. Top team in England for a while and how we loved it.
Then it was Lokeren away. I went. Got a ticket somehow. This was my first introduction to football and beer. I was already a drinker but didnt drink at games. Went with my mate. We got plastered and spent the whole game merrily belting out song after song with the rest of the fans joining in with us. Now thats why I go to football. For a few beers, a laugh with your mates, see the boys play away, in a ground that doesnt feel your own and thus is enemy territory. That season was great. Travelling to so many new grounds and gawping at how different they looked on the TV.
And this season. I've done most of them. Loved every minute. My mate Karl got into it as much as me and we've had some top days out together, drinking ourselves ragged, singing for the boys, going mad when we score, taking our shirts off in joy at Palace away. Nowdays its less about going to see the team play, and more about being with a passionate crowd who you can have a laugh with. Which is why I love aways far more than homes.
Now I am where I am, I feel sorry for the people who support teams like Manchester United and have never experienced the ******** years. My feeling of joy at beating Gillingham cannot be matched ever again, unless we win a cup or the league, and its nice supporting a team you know wont win the league year in year out, I live for football, I live for away days, and I live for the camaderie on the terraces, where you're part of a pissed up football family.
If you dont do games, you cant compete, and I'm sorry if you disagree with me, but you're missing out. If you look at the fans who do every game and wonder why they do it I can tell you.... its because being an active fan is the best buzz in the world you can ever have. Being with an almost garanteed sell out away crowd at various shitholes of the north and south, banding together, loudly joining in with the chants and that.
But I also love it because on that rare occasion we score first and we erupt in a foaming mass of bouncing fans my mind drifts back to Sunderland at home and I wonder if there is a 13 year old kid in the home end looking at us in frustration, realising that life doesn't turn out the way you always want it to. I'm part of that Sunderland crowd and hes the kid in the quiet City end looking gutted. Sounds cruel, but in a way its revenge and a sort of release of the hurt I suffered that day. But I do know that if that kid turns out to be anything like me then he will love the next 30/40 years of his life.
At the end of the day, everyone has thier passions in life. Mine is travelling the width and breadth of England every second weekend and being part of a crowd who only want two things.
A city win but most of all a right mental day out.
CIIIIIIIIIITY BOYS, WE'RE ON THE PISS AGAIN
CIIIIIIIIIIITY BOYS, WE'RE ON THE PISS AGAIN
CIIIIIIIIIITY BOYS, WE'RE ON THE PISS AGAIN
ONE BANANA
TWO BANANA
THREE BANANA
FOUR!