TRUE BLUE STORIES

Peter Talbot

My father was blue - he wouldn't eat bacon unless it was in a sandwich because it was red and white. My uncles and cousins were blues. If you were called Talbot in Ashton under Lyne you were blue. It was as simple as that!

My father took me most Saturdays in the fifties to watch the blues. I probably saw all but a handful of games at Maine Road and a high proportion of away games between 1953 and the early seventies. Not much changes with City - my first recollections were of relegation. We quickly bounced back that time and put a squad together which got us to Wembley in 1955. City, down to 10 men after Jimmy Meadows was carried off in the nineteenth minute eventually went down 3:1 to Jackie Milburn's Newcastle.

They were back at Wembley within twelve months this time beating Birmingham 3:1. Those were the years of Don Revie, Roy Paul, Bert Trautmann, Bobby Johnson, Joe Hayes and Nobby Clarke. My most emotional recollection of that period is not of Bert Trautmann holding his neck as he collected his winner's medal in 1956 but of Nobby Clarke being half carried, half dragged off the pitch, more like a black sack then a footballer in the previous year's semi-final against Sunderland. Minutes earlier in a mudbath on a pitch, in pouring rain, Clarky had scored the only goal - Joe Hayes ran down the wing and hit it low into the penalty area. Clarky threw himself at it and headed into the bottom corner. His momentum slid him several yards through the mud. I can see now the look of pure joy on his face as he wiped the mud from his eyes and peered at the ball in the net.

By the mid fifties I was hooked. The late fifties was the Denis Law era. City busted the UK transfer record to buy him from Huddersfield paying £55,000 (funny that it had the same impact then as Newcastle buying Shearer for £15 million). Colin Barlow was also around at that time. The era ended when Denis went to Turin, City slid into Division 2. Things became as bad in the mid-sixties as now. I was there on the Saturday when only 8,600 turned up at Maine Road. Somebody got the message. George Poyser went, Joe Mercer and Big Mal came. The rest is, as they say, history. The league win in 1968 was the thrill. Yes, I was in tears at St.James Park as the final whistle went. (The only time I have cried at a City match-though God knows some performances were that bad I should have cried).Typical City, they kept us at the edge winning eventually 4:3. The tannoy began to play Cliff Richard's hit "Congratulations" within seconds of the final whistle. I cried for my dad, my uncles, my cousins and all the rest of our fans. The Newcastle fans were also singing, I've had a soft spot for Newcastle ever since.

The FA Cup, the League Cup, the European Cup, and Winners Cup all followed. Perhaps it is clinging at straws but last time City were in the bottom 4 of the second division (you know what I mean) they won the Premier League within 3 seasons.

Two years ago, my father died. A few weeks earlier my daughter rang City and told them about him (he was just a fan like the rest of us, no more no less) I am not sure why she did it, I expected nothing. A couple of days later an autographed City shirt arrived together with a short letter from Brian Horton. (This at a time when his job was daily on the line).

City is that type of club, with that type of fans.