Inside the ground, an uneasy peace reigned until Paul Dickov scored City’s opening goal after an hour. Seats in the North Stand were ripped up and thrown at police and stewards. Nicky Weaver was pelted with coins. Police, many in riot gear, moved in on the mob and it took them several minutes to restore order.
Further disturbances followed the game as shops and property were damaged by supporters escorted to the railway station. Eleven arrests – eight of them Millwall fans and three of them City – were made for public order offences. ‘I have been policing games for 22 years and this was a sad return to the dismal days of the past,’ said Superintendent Clive Wolfendale, the officer-in-charge at the ground.
City’s other goals were scored by Terry Cooke and Kevin Horlock.
Tuesday, 9 February 1999
The House of Commons played host to several famous City supporters as they celebrated the launch of a supporters’ club branch at Westminster. Labour MPs and lifelong City fans Ivan Lewis (Bury South) and Paul Goggins (Wythenshawe and Sale East) were the forces behind the new branch.
Guest of honour David Bernstein revealed that 20 new supporters’ branches have been opened in the previous month. ‘It is always great to meet fellow City fans and it makes you doubly determined to get things right at the club,’ he said. ‘I honestly think we are on the brink of a dramatic recovery and that is what everyone is striving for.’
Among those attending the first meeting were Dennis Tueart, Eddie Large, author Colin Shindler, broadcaster James H. Reeve and the former deputy governor of the Bank of England, Howard Davies.
Wednesday, 10 February 1999
Tension reportedly increased between the club and the ‘training ground mafia’, a hardy bunch of supporters who spend their days watching the players in training.
Joe Royle had complained previously that the training ground was a cross between McDonalds and a zoo, such was its easy access to supporters. He insisted they were kept away from a practice match. The ‘mafia’ retaliated by refusing to return the ball every time it sailed over the fence behind which they were told to remain.
Thursday, 11 February 1999
A bizarre story appeared in the Manchester Evening News about Nicky Weaver. He was supposedly the victim of a female pickpocket as he walked through Manchester city centre. His wallet, containing £40 and credit cards, went missing after a woman had ‘thrown her arms around him’ as he walked to his car.
DICKOV TICKLED BY TRICKLE OF SUCCESS
(The Times, Saturday, 13 February 1999)
Clearly, it will take some time to acclimatise to all this winning. No longer is it classic City of spectacular own goals, hilarious misses, last minute defeats and ex-players going nap. Far from it; Manchester City are currently on their best run of form for a decade.
In addition, the move to a new ground is viewed as a formality and there is talk of a substantial input of cash for new players. Further – and far more conclusive – proof of the new City came in the 61st minute of their game against Millwall last Saturday.
The ball was sent rolling towards the Millwall goal as if prodded by an 88-year-old in carpet slippers. This pitiable pea-roller hit a divot and Nigel Spink, their goalkeeper, kindly dived over it as it hobbled across the goal-line at precisely three miles per hour. Paul Dickov embarked on exactly the same extravagant routine of celebration had he whacked it from the half-way line and ripped the netting to shreds. And well he should, for he was commemorating something greater than a mere goal, it was a lucky goal.
City have won five and drawn two of their last seven league games, collecting a haul of consecutive points they have not bettered since early in 1989 when they won promotion to the old First Division. They are now in a promotion play-off position, and though they are nine points behind Preston North End in second place, there is real optimism that they can make up the ground.
The funds for additional players will be raised when a buyer is found for the 26 per cent of shares that belonged to the late Stephen Boler. David Bernstein is trying to broker a deal whereby investors would pay £7.5 million for the shares and supply an additional £20 million for team-building.
On the surface it would seem an optimistic notion, considering City’s ignominious league position. Paradoxically, their woeful current status could make them prime for speculation. They are undeniably the most underachieving club in English football, and so the absolute logic is that they must also have the greatest unfulfilled potential. City are the ramshackle house overlooking the sea. Someone with imagination, ready cash and determination could build themselves a beautiful abode.
Deloitte & Touche has published a survey which shows City have the seventeenth best annual turnover of any club in England with an income of nearly £13 million per year. By way of comparison, two of their league rivals, Colchester United and Wigan Athletic, accrue less than £1 million a year.
Their relative wealth is generated by an incredible fan base. The average home attendance this season has topped 28,000 per match, which is more than double the next best-supported club in their division, Stoke City. Fans are also highly supportive of City merchandise. The players may have let them down, but the City trademark, whether on replica shirts or writ large across a souvenir bedspread, is a badge of loyalty, representing passion in the face of adversity, a celebration of the supporters as much as the club itself.
Bernstein, typically, is conducting negotiations discreetly. He is wary of inflating the expectations of supporters. False promises have been left scattered like points lost and chances missed around Maine Road down the years. He is an experienced player in the wile and guile of corporate trading. Several finance companies have been linked with the club, but Bernstein is sworn to confidentiality, though he has declared that he wants to complete any deal before the transfer deadline in March which has heartened many supporters.
Peter Rickitt has been named as City’s go-between in negotiations. Rickitt, a famously large man, has found himself pursued by several newspapers, most of them keen to make great play of his size, as much as his renowned financial wizardry. The basic subtext is that while his son boasts a much-vaunted six-pack tummy, his is more of a Party Seven. Either way, Rickitt, who has been a financial advisor to City for several years, has formed a vanguard behind Bernstein in the current dealings.
The move to a new stadium based in the Bradford district of Manchester is expected in 2002. It will be funded by the National Lottery and Manchester City Council at a cost of £90 million, with its first use for the Commonwealth Games to be held in the city in three years. The capacity will be 48,000, an extra 15,000 on the current full-house at Maine Road. Supporters and the club’s hierarchy favour the move, though some retain an emotional attachment to Maine Road or are sceptical of an arrangement whereby the club is to inherit a showpiece stadium at a fraction of its true cost. Bernstein has no such doubts. ‘It will be a wonderful facility and we will benefit greatly from the extra capacity. It is a positive step to take the club into the twenty-first century.’
Bernstein claims to detect a ‘tremendous spirit of confidence flowing through the club’. He had an unlikely encounter last week to advance the view. He was spotted by a burly police officer while he queued to buy a newspaper at Manchester’s Piccadilly Station. As he left the kiosk, the police officer beckoned him over. ‘It’s Mr Bernstein, isn’t it, the City chairman?’ he asked. ‘That’s right,’ replied Bernstein. The officer gingerly opened his jacket to reveal a dark blue tie with ‘MCFC’ sewn into the cloth. ‘We’re doing a lot better, aren’t we?’ he chuckled. City are on the up; even the laughing policeman knows it.
Saturday, 13 February 1999
Bournemouth 0 Manchester City 0
Jamie Pollock was sent off for the third time this season after he lunged at Bournemouth’s John Bailey. He had earlier been booked for dissent. Kevin Horlock was also dismissed for two bookable offences – a foul in the first half and for ‘walking towards the referee in an aggressive manne
r’ in injury time.
Pollock was furious. ‘The referee was a shambles. We were playing against 12 today. If they outlaw tackling I’ll get sent off every week.’ Joe Royle made great play of the bizarre nature of Horlock’s sending off. ‘I’ve had a player sent off for aggressive walking! I think I must have missed a rule change somewhere.’
Monday, 15 February 1999
City were informed by the FA that four players – Kevin Horlock, Andy Morrison, Tony Vaughan and Jamie Pollock – would be suspended for their forthcoming visit to Chesterfield.
Tuesday, 16 February 1999
Jamie Pollock was stripped of the club captaincy and the armband handed to Andy Morrison, who had deputised on previous occasions. ‘We are trying to help Jamie with his dissent problems, and now he has no reason to speak to the referee at all,’ said Joe Royle. ‘This is not a knee-jerk reaction – my motive is to keep Jamie on the pitch more. I believe it will be for his own good.’
David Bernstein announced that in the six months up until 30 November 1998, City had lost £400,000, a notable improvement on the near £6 million deficit for the same period the previous year.
CITY STILL NO.1 WITH LARDY BOY
(The Times, Saturday, 20 February 1999)
Surrounded. Mark on one side, Marc on the other. Surreal monologues all around. Radio 1’s official, undisputed anarchy twins, Mark Radcliffe and Marc Riley (a.k.a. Lard or Lardy Boy or the Boy Lard) are on top form. Mark, according to Marc, spends his weekends propagating seeds in his garden shed; while Riley, poor soul, is burdened by an endless round of celebrity cheese-sniffing parties. Just occasionally, Manchester City get a mention too. All in a day’s work, our kid.
Mark, in his sensible, roll-neck green sweater, looks dogmatically normal. Take note, as Nurse Ratched would warn, for those that appear most sane are invariably the most mad. Ha, ha. Marc sports a check shirt and jeans, attire last seen on your woodwork teacher, the malevolent one with a retractable tape-measure at the ready for a swift poke in the ribs.
Aside from ‘Fat Harry White’ and the ‘Cheesily Cheerful Chart Challenge’, a recurring theme on their Radio 1 afternoon programme, is a bulletin on the escapades of their favourite football club, Manchester City. Usually, as City are humbled by the likes of Mansfield Town, Mark articulates the gloom and disbelief while Lard provides the telling full stop: ‘You’re not wrong, our kid.’
Serious for a minute, Mark ponders the enigma in blue. ‘It’s just bewildering. How can so much money be spent to provide so little? It’s a spectacular achievement to have so little tangible for all the cash that 30,000 fans must generate.’
He was first taken to Maine Road by his dad, Philip Radcliffe, who worked as a journalist for the Bolton Evening News and also reviewed classical records for The Sunday Times. ‘We lived in Bolton, so we’d watch them one week and City the next. We’d go wherever he could get us into with his press pass!’ Radcliffe defected full-time to City when he began his degree course at Manchester University in 1976.
Abruptly, Riley interjects. He can wait no longer. He must talk about John Burridge and he must do it now! Burridge, by way of explanation, was City’s reserve goalkeeper for the 1994–95 season and was – metaphorically speaking – widely celebrated as one glove short of a full pair.
‘I used to watch him warming up. He’d be rolling in puddles, jumping all over the place. He was always asking the crowd what time it was. The funny thing is, I don’t think he ever got a game. He was mad, him. He used to watch Match of the Day in his full playing kit, didn’t he? I mean, you do that when you’re five-years-old, but not when you’re a proper bloke.’
Radcliffe has a drumstick and begins tapping out a rhythm on a book in front of him. He looks around the BBC canteen, bored. Next question, please. He suddenly remembers an astoundingly bad idea they had. ‘We were going to open a vodka and potato bar on Stretford Road. You know, near to Macari’s Chippy, around the corner from Old Trafford. We’d call it ‘Kinkladze’s’. I don’t know if the United fans would like that though.’ ‘Probably not,’ says Lard. ‘United fans don’t have the same sense of humour as us lot, do they? Our humour comes from being beleaguered for so long.’ A look of terror falls across Riley’s face. He looks like a man who has just remembered that he was once a member of the non-pop group, The Fall. ‘I might get set upon by United fans next time I’m at Tesco. No, just put this in: “Manchester United are great.”’
Like 16,000 others, the pair renewed their season tickets despite relegation to Division Two. ‘It’s an act of faith, a kind of defiance. Sometimes it’s like a blood sport: how low can City go?’ says Radcliffe. ‘It’s like, you could be a fan of Bob Dylan and he might not make very good records any more, but you still go and see him.’ Riley generously tramples on the analogy. ‘Yeah, but Bob Dylan doesn’t play every two weeks does he?’ ‘Oh aye, never thought of that.’
The debacle of Francis Lee’s reign as City chairman inspired the pair to wondrous musical heights under the guise of their occasional band, The Shirehorses. ‘The Ballad Of Franny Lee’ was one of the stand-out tracks on their album, The Worst Album In The World . . . Ever . . . Ever! The alleged guest vocalist was Alan Bawl, apparently no relation to Alan Ball, the former City manager, though they share a similarly limited vocal range audible only to dogs and shire horses.
Their favourite City player at the moment is Terry Cooke, the winger on loan from Manchester United. Radcliffe and Riley have clandestine plans to purchase Cooke in a bizarre deal. ‘We are going to organise a whipround among the fans. We’ll own him then and we’ll all meet up every Monday morning to gee him up for the week and make sure he’s feeling OK,’ says Riley. They refused to nominate their least favourite player. ‘We might meet him at a celebrity cheese-sniffing party. We’re in show business, you know,’ says Riley.
They sometimes visit the club in an official capacity. At one game earlier this season, they made the half-time raffle draw, racing on to the pitch as if chased by a small man in a tracksuit and flat cap, quite possibly Alan Ball. They proceeded to jump around wantonly. ‘Don’t you know about rock ‘n’ roll?’ asks Radcliffe. ‘You’ve got to exaggerate your movements when you’re playing a stadium gig.’
Unlike many celebrities, the pair make no claims to be football fanatics. ‘We go to every other home game, something like that. Mark has to set aside time to propagate seeds in his garden shed, you see,’ explains Riley. During his time with The Fall in the late 1970s, Riley was often away touring and lost touch with the club. ‘And you lost touch with music then as well didn’t you?’ laughs Radcliffe.
Eventually they are summoned to the studio to spill forth the idiosyncratic madness that is perceived variously as infantile or inspired, or usually a bit of both. Riley escorts me back to the reception area. In the lift, he comes over all normal. ‘We’ve both got kids now, that’s why we can’t get to City for every game,’ he says. Warning: these men have children, loveable and cute now, but acerbic and askew in time and possibly staffing your nearest vodka and potato bar by 2015.
Saturday, 20 February 1999
Manchester City 2 Macclesfield Town 0
Former City idol Georgi Kinkladze was among the 31,086 crowd to see them defeat Macclesfield with goals from Shaun Goater and Gareth Taylor. City’s unbeaten run of nine games lifted them into the play-off zone for the first time in three months.
Saturday, 27 February 1999
Chesterfield 1 Manchester City 1
City were missing six regular first-team players. David Reeves scored for Chesterfield before Lee Crooks equalised with his first goal of the season.
More than 3,500 City fans attended the match and, as the wind ripped through Saltergate, sang: ‘We are not, we’re not really here.’
Eight
The History Man
Thursday, 4 March 1999
West Ham’s Australian winger Stan Lazaridis had a change of heart over a proposed loan move to Maine Road and opted to stay at Upt
on Park.
City sought advice from the FA in an attempt to recover the £750,000 still owed to them by Crystal Palace from the sale of Lee Bradbury.
MORRISON ADAPTS TO LEADING ROLE AS TOUGH MAN OF MAINE ROAD
(The Times, Saturday, 6 March 1999)
The three scamps in tracksuits giggle and jab each other in the ribs. They are footballers-to-be, full of life, full of themselves. Suddenly, Andy Morrison enters the canteen and sets about them, shadowboxing and jigging. They scatter; more laughter.
Manchester City, for once, is a happy place to be. The team is on a 10-match unbeaten league run and promotion (via the play-offs, at least) is within sight. No longer is their play effete and elegant. City are standing toe-to-toe with the journeymen of their division and slugging it out, sometimes with a little too much relish, as eight dismissals and nearly 70 bookings testify.
The epitome of their zero-tolerance approach is Andy Morrison who has just been made captain by Joe Royle. Morrison, since he has plied his trade outside the media glare of the FA Carling Premiership, is little known to football’s passive audience, but the original Bovril boys of the Nationwide League know him like a brother, a brother grim. Fittingly, he made his début for City last year on Halloween. He is your nightmare in football boots, six feet tall, nearly 14 stones in weight. The hair is short and spiky, the eyes cruel and narrow. He’s the footballer they forgot (on purpose) to call when they cast Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels; they would have needed wide-screen.
Already, after just 14 games in a City shirt, he is a cult hero. On the cover of the fanzine City ’til I Cry! he is in classic pose: fists clenched, arms outstretched, chest puffed out, a man running at the world. ‘Raging Bull’ reads the caption. This Bully Beef has been similarly adored at his previous clubs. Plymouth Argyle supporters drafted a petition to keep him at Home Park, while the Blackpool fans sang his name when he returned in his new colours a few weeks ago.
Blue Moon: Down Among The Dead Men With Manchester City Page 14
