He lectured for several years in Southampton, where he sometimes attended The Dell, but it was only when he came to Manchester that he found a true affinity with a football club. ‘I went to see United, but when I got to my car after the match a tyre on my car had been slashed. I don’t know what it was, but the atmosphere back in the 1970s wasn’t all that pleasant at United.’ His eyes sparkle when he talks of City. ‘My heart and soul is with City. I like to see United do well because I’m a Mancunian now, but City is my club. I’ve always seen them as more of a family club, a place where there is a sense of community.’
Like many others, he is fascinated by the phenomenon of City’s fiercely loyal support. He feels they are an anachronism, a snapshot of better days gone by. ‘You do not have loyalty any more in life. Everyone is on short-term contracts or part-time work. No one is willing to show commitment. City supporters go against this trend. They have a great camaraderie among each other. They are holding on to values that few people believe in any more, but which are so important.’ Isn’t this all a tad sentimental for a social scientist? ‘Look, mate, this is the birthplace of the industrial revolution, this is where it all started, this is Manchester grit, a poke in the eye to everyone else.’ He is leaning across the table, touching my arm, repeating my first name constantly. Perhaps we should chorus Blue Moon or The Red Flag; either way, this man makes me want to sing. Take note, Joe Royle.
Saturday, 15 May 1999
Wigan Athletic 1 Manchester City 1
(Nationwide League Division Two Semi-Final Play-off First Leg)
City conceded a goal after just 19 seconds when Stuart Barlow capitalised on a misunderstanding between Nicky Weaver and Gerard Wiekens. Paul Dickov scored an equaliser to set up a thrilling second leg at Maine Road.
CITY AND WIGAN KEEN TO LINGER NO LONGER
(match report, The Times, Monday, 17 May 1999)
Noticeably, Joe Royle had left his car parked in close proximity to the main entrance. Springfield Park, Wigan, rather like Nationwide League Division Two, is not a place where it pays to linger. Indeed, Wigan themselves will depart for Robin Park this summer, leaving behind the weeds, the graffiti, the patched-up stands and the cloying aura of a small patch of Britain that has remained for ever 1973 or thereabouts.
Demolition is due to begin in a few weeks, but City supporters, benevolent to a fault, have already set work in progress. Seconds before kick-off, a section of corrugated fencing wobbled behind the visitors’ end. It was abruptly flattened and about a dozen skipped through a small meadow to reach the terracing.
Their ingenuity and zeal was rewarded in typical City style. Wigan kicked off and booted the ball resolutely but aimlessly upfield. Richard Edghill took the resultant throw-in and, as the ball rolled between Wiekens and Weaver, both fell into a state of soft-focus apoplexy. Barlow, firmly of the real world, danced between them and tapped it into an empty net. The game had been under way for just 19 seconds.
City were in deep shock, their defence wandering around randomly like car crash victims on the hard shoulder. Passes were over-hit, the ball constantly kicked high and long, and the mere glimpse of a Wigan striker provoked abject terror. Wigan, sensing the trepidation, were direct and purposeful, though they could not increase their lead.
Royle has built a team high on endeavour and heart, if lacking in guile. They scamper through a game of football like eager puppies, snapping at ankles, everything hurry-hurry and breathless. Michael Brown, their best player, finally resolved to keep the ball and struck the bar after a fine solo run. At last, something considered, some air to breathe. The equaliser came 14 minutes before the end when Dickov slammed home a cross from Brown.
Earlier, Wigan’s Liddell chose to shoot when a pass to Jones might have brought more reward and they were denied a penalty when Wiekens appeared to handle inside the area. They played chiefly on the counter-attack and their subtlety and craft formed an intriguing contrast to their visitors’ exuberance.
Before the end, about 100 police officers and stewards formed a cordon in front of the City supporters. They were standing at first but then kneeled down. ‘Sit down, if you love City,’ was the response from the crowd.
Unfortunately, Wigan supporters invaded the playing area at the final whistle and, again true to the spirit of 1973, tried to revive hooliganism by goading the City fans. Thwarted by a police vanguard, they decided instead to break up sections of the ground to take away as souvenirs. The sight of a teenager, his face painted blue and white, a curly wig on his head, haring off with the seats from the dug-out will remain in the memory for some time.
‘We’ll see you all back at our place on Wednesday,’ said Royle afterwards. Get set for high drama at Maine Road, for these are two well-matched teams, one seeking a renaissance, the other a re-invention.
Wednesday, 19 May 1999
Manchester City 1 Wigan Athletic 0
(Nationwide League Division Two Semi-final Play-off Second Leg)
A goal in the first half by Shaun Goater settled a tight, nervous game. The final whistle signalled a pitch invasion and scenes of unbridled euphoria.
CITY’S STOCK STILL RISES THANKS TO GOATER
(match report, The Times, Thursday, 20 May 1999)
Dignity has finally been restored to the part of Manchester that remains forever blue. Pitched against the festival of triumph on the other side of town, qualification to a Division Two promotion play-off final seems particularly trifling. No matter. Raise the blue flag, book the ticket to Wembley: City and success – of the qualified variety – are allies once more.
In a scrappy, tense match last night they eased nervously past a Wigan side of some assurance. Though playing the more considered football, Wigan barely escaped their own half as City took the game to their visitors relentlessly from the kick-off. City were spirited rather than crafted and finally knocked a hole through Wigan’s defence.
Terry Cooke, who had been by-passed in the frenzy, broke on the right and sent a deep cross to the far post. Shaun Goater threw himself at the ball and forced it over the line with his chest. It was the clumsy, scrambled goal the game deserved. Wigan players claimed he had used his hand.
On the counter-attack Wigan were far more precise, with both Barlow and Bradshaw finding their team-mates while City preferred to play the ball long and chase it to ground. After the interval, Wigan were forced on the offensive and the game became a much better spectacle. Dickov twice fired wide, while Jones, for Wigan, headed a good chance on to the bar.
Long before the end, City’s passionate crowd bayed for the final whistle. Gareth Taylor came close to sealing victory minutes before the end but shot tamely at Carroll from close range. The victory was slim, the nerves frayed, but, at last, the streets of Manchester will be painted blue instead of red. Wembley awaits; Bayern who?
• Manchester United were due to play Bayern Munich in the final of the European Cup a week later.
Friday, 21 May 1999
City officials were furious to learn they would receive just 37,000 tickets for the promotion play-off final. Gillingham, with an average league attendance of 6,339, were to get 34,000.
Ray Mathias, the Wigan Athletic manager, was dismissed. ‘We said we wanted to be out of the Second Division by the millennium. We gave Ray a job to do. The stark reality is that we are still in the Second Division,’ said Dave Whelan, the club’s chairman. ‘This has hit me with a massive jolt. I’m devastated,’ said Mathias.
Eleven
Goodbye to All That
REJOICING MASKS THE WEAKNESSES
(The Times, Saturday, 22 May 1999)
‘Wembley, Wembley,’ muttered Joe Royle, as if he believed saying the word constantly would make it easier to believe. A shake of the head, a swig of beer, a huge smile: ‘Wembley!’
Indeed, next Sunday, Manchester City will visit Wembley Stadium to take on Gillingham in the Division Two promotion play-off final. It has been a long, fraught season for City but victory against Wigan A
thletic on Wednesday in the play-off semi-final set them dancing on the pitch. ‘The fans deserve a day out,’ said Royle, ‘The love they have for this club is unbelievable, they are on a crusade.’
Royle has been in the professional game for more than 35 years. He has seen it all, done it all. Football has enabled him to live a life to the full – happiness, sadness, league titles, England caps, cup finals, friends, humour, ignominy, not to mention the inevitable war-wounds, in his case osteoarthritis and a plastic hip. Before City he managed Everton and in his final days at Goodison Park he had the pallor of a ghost. He became invisible in his suit. The gags evaporated and he could barely lift up his head at the after-match press conferences.
Heartening, then, to see the smiles and the bonhomie on Wednesday, the flesh put back on the bones. It was more of a love-in than a press conference. ‘Hello Weasel,’ he said as he entered. ‘Mr Weasel, to you,’ countered the journalist. Royle had a can of cider in his hand, but wanted lager. ‘I’ve saved you one, Joe,’ said the hospitality lady. ‘Good girl.’ Wouldn’t champagne be more appropriate, someone asked. ‘I hate champagne, it makes me fart!’
Back on the pitch and in the streets, the celebrations among the fans were wanton. They drank in this rare success lustily, as if they had simultaneously learned that the world would never again be at war and – more importantly – the council had planned to build a housing estate on Old Trafford. It was ridiculously overdone. A quiet glass of sherry would have been more apt, a chink-chink rather than a crash, bang, wallop! The ferocity of their joy served only to emphasise the barrenness of their recent history. It is 23 years since they last visited Wembley in a meaningful competition.
City finished third in the league, so feel they already have a moral claim on a promotion place. It has not, however, been a season of mellifluous, rarefied football that habitually sweeps teams towards the top of the league. Much of their play has been fractured and hopeful, their victories earned by virtue of having a bigger heart than their opponents. They are like the hurdler who has won a medal, but turns to see the hurdles upturned behind him, his legs covered in bruises. Promoted or not, Royle must spend the summer searching for ball-players to complement the grafters.
Unfortunately, City will not be able to count on the support of their club chaplain, Tony Porter, next Sunday. ‘I hope all the supporters have a good day out, but it is not for me. Sunday is the day we celebrate the resurrection and I would rather keep it that way. I’m not a killjoy or anything, it is just my personal decision.’
Porter is the minister at Holy Trinity Platt, a church based a few hundred yards from Maine Road. ‘There was a lot of noise outside the church after Wednesday’s game, car horns being hooted and people singing. It was all out of tune mind, but sung in a good spirit. I am absolutely delighted for the supporters. They’ve not had a lot to shout about, especially the younger ones.’
In recent years, City, like many progressive clubs, has fostered a sense of community both within themselves and in the surrounding neighbourhood. Porter was invited by a previous manager, Alan Ball, to provide some spiritual succour to this football village. ‘City are part of my parish. Everyone immediately thinks of the first team, but I spend a lot of time with the young lads at the club, and also the ground staff,’ he said. ‘I’m not a social worker, though, I talk things through from a Christian perspective.’
At Christmas he organised a carol service which was well-attended by the club’s staff. ‘Joe [Royle] was incredibly supportive. He wrote to everyone at the club and invited them to come along. He didn’t need to do that.’ Although he did not play football, Porter was a keen hockey player, and represented England Schoolboys on six occasions. ‘I am used to the atmosphere around dressing-rooms. It doesn’t bother me that people might take the mick when they see my collar. I’ve been a vicar for 20 years, I’ve heard all the jokes. They’re OK at City, a good set of people.’
He will not be praying that City beat Gillingham, preferring instead to address – in prayer – a problem that he feels has undermined the club for years. ‘I pray for stability, that the club has finally abandoned it’s “hello, goodbye” policy. I think the younger players have really suffered because of it. They were so dispirited by it all.’
Monday, 24 May 1999
Police were called to Maine Road to deal with angry scenes among supporters queuing for Wembley tickets. Some fans had waited for up to 15 hours and there were real fears that there would not be enough tickets to meet the demand. Wembley tickets on sale via London agencies were reportedly fetching up to £150 each.
POWER PLUGGED INTO CITY FOR LIFE
(The Times, Saturday 29 May 1999)
Old footballers don’t die, they go to Mottram Hall. There, among the tree-lined walks and undulating pastures, they can lose themselves to nostalgia, laugh at their first ever curly perm, rummage in their kit-bags to find shorts one size larger than a pair of swimming trunks and exclaim: ‘We used to wear these!’
Amazingly, the players from your old football cards of the 1970s and 1980s still walk the earth. They might be grey at the temples, thicker around the middle but, look, there’s Dave Watson, the Everton stalwart, trying to find the ‘off’ button on his mobile phone. Gordon Hill, the ex-Manchester United winger, is still playing the cheeky Cockney, except with his teenage son in tow. Danny Wilson, Sheffield Wednesday manager and ex-just-about-every-team-in-the-League, is talking conspiratorially with two men in the bar.
The FA has hired the historic hall in Cheshire for one of its more prestigious coaching courses. Howard Wilkinson and Don Howe are among the speakers, so it’s clearly not a quick shimmy around a few traffic cones. ‘Howard gave one of the lectures this morning,’ Paul Power, the former Manchester City captain, explains. ‘He was teaching us how to work the ball out in little triangles.’ Cue the subtitles: ‘He was teaching us how to use short, intricate passes to move forward when we are closely marked.’
Paul Power, now a senior member of City’s coaching staff, has not wallowed in opulence for some time. When he was a City player (1975 to 1986), however, the posh country hotel was often part of the pre-match itinerary. Back then, City played in enough momentous games to justify stop-overs at ivy-clad mansions in quaint rural villages. Besides, tracksuits among the colonnades always made for great TV on cup final morning.
Power was the last player to captain City at Wembley, where he played for them on three occasions. He was a goalscorer in the San Siro when City drew a UEFA Cup tie with AC Milan in November 1978. He played more than 400 times for City, and kept the faith even when he left for Everton. On their march to the 1986–87 League Championship, he scored against City in a 3–1 win. A Mancunian and a City fan from boyhood, he refused to celebrate the goal. He looks much the same as he did then – thin and rangy, wiry moustache, thick eyebrows and that famously peculiar blink, as if he has kindly offered to break in a pair of contact lenses for a mate. He made the offer in 1973, and hasn’t seen him since.
City are back at Wembley tomorrow, though a Division Two promotion play-off final against Gillingham seems small-time measured against the 1981 FA Cup final against Tottenham Hotspur, or even the game against Chelsea in the Full Members Cup final of 1986. ‘I don’t know, it’s a trip to Wembley and there’s a lot at stake,’ says Power diplomatically. ‘I’m not one for nostalgia. I won’t be thinking about when I was last there, but going there as a fan and as someone still working at the club and hoping they win.’
Football clubs routinely pronounce that a particular game is the most important in their history. Usually this is hyperbole, but tomorrow’s is the authentic article for Manchester City. A defeat will inflict a massive financial cost. The club is burdened by a lingering debt and another season in this division will lead to more cutbacks and further down-sizing. The walls leading to escape will become steeper still. One season in the third tier of English football is an aberration, an away-day through football’s backwater. Two seasons – or more –
is a lifetime. It will change the image of Manchester City for ever, spoil its good name.
The demoralisation of defeat will seep like mustard gas over the staff and supporters. There are a lot of hearts to break, for City have an average home attendance of 28,261, a figure that nine clubs in the FA Carling Premiership cannot match. It has been said to the point of cliché: City supporters deserve better. This season they have stood on open terraces in the pouring rain, suffered the jeers of every small-town Johnny, and the football has been only fleetingly entertaining. They have pulled themselves through it, with a crate of ale and a yard of good humour.
Paul Power will travel to Wembley with a party of young players from City’s Academy. He spends his time mainly coaching the 9 to 13-year-olds. ‘Whether we win or not, the Academy will remain in place,’ he says. ‘The structure of the club is so much better than it was before. When I came to City as a kid, there’d be 30 of us and just five footballs. We’d do a bit of running, finish with a game and go home. I was small for my age and never got to touch the ball.’
He is confident City will leave Wembley as victors. ‘I’m not worried about Sunday. We have always done well in the important games this season. We’ve performed badly against the likes of Lincoln City and teams like that.’ Of course, an additional burden this season for City supporters has been the great success of United. City’s lowest point ever has, inevitably, corresponded with United’s highest. ‘I don’t really care about United,’ says Power. ‘They’ve done the treble, and good luck to them, but it’s City I’m bothered about. Historically, it runs in parallel that we tend to do well when they do, so it might be a good omen.’
Blue Moon: Down Among The Dead Men With Manchester City Page 19
