Blue Moon: Down Among The Dead Men With Manchester City

by Mark Hodkinson

  Paul Fegan: There’s eight minutes left at Wembley. The first Gills goal goes in. My eight-year-old son is in tears. I’m wondering why I ever brought him to Maine Road. Most Irish kids follow the rags or Liverpool; why put him through this? The second goal goes in; the poor kid is devastated. Surely there can be no way back. The rest is history. I have been a City fan for nearly 30 years and I cannot remember the blues having that kind of luck before; but we deserved that luck. God, I wish I was at Wembley today but like so many blues I had to settle for the television. I don’t think I will ever forget 30 May 1999.

  Ian Ferguson: What more can you say? Being at Wembley on Sunday was up there with the birth of my children! The elation of the Dickov goal was the most amazing moment I’ve ever experienced, when he struck the ball you could here a pin drop. The ball moved in slow motion . . . you had to be there. Fantastic.

  Jon Reese: Stone the flipping crows – what a fantastic day! I still cannot believe how we made it through when we were looking down the barrel at another season in the backwaters of Division Two. What courage, what guts, what joy!

  Sharon Hargreaves: I have never, ever experienced a match like that before and I never want to again. The incredible lows then highs of emotion as City continued to live up to all our expectations and try to ruin our day were just indescribable (so I’ll try anyway . . .). I started screaming until I thought my vocal chords would burst. The scenes on the pitch and in the stands will stay with me for the rest of my life. This time the tears were of joy. We’d won a cup and who cares that it was only the Second Division play-off final? This was our day, it belonged to the fans, and the players fell to their knees and worshipped us.

  Tony Burns: Quite simply, Wembley exploded. I have never, and doubt I ever will again, experience anything like it. Bodies tumbled into each other as we crashed around in the craziest of celebrations. Those that didn’t scream and cheer were numbed by the enormity of what we had witnessed. Rivers of tears cascaded across the Wembley concrete as we were swept along in an unending tide of emotion, elation and thanksgiving. This was indeed a modern footballing miracle. We stood on our seats for 30 minutes or so, as we sang, cheered, screamed and released the years of frustration, barbed comments, cheap jokes, snide lines from rags, press and just about anyone who will never ever understand that we are not an ordinary club. I loved Sunday; my wife cried, my daughter danced, my son said it was the best day of his life, my brother, nephew and I danced and screamed. This was blue heaven.

  Peter Llewellyn: We go completely, ballistically, bananas. Hugging, cheering, punching the air, ‘City ’til I die’-ing, Blue moon-ing and making some outrageous noise. Gills players are distraught. A bloke in a City shirt is carried past us on a stretcher with a saline drip attached. Heart attack, someone says. No one is surprised. The crowd definitely made the penalty competition one-sided. I should feel sorry for Gillingham but I don’t. City fans have put up with so much. It was our turn and it was the most fantastic day.

  Averil Capes: It’s Tuesday, 1 June, I’ve been to Wembley, I’ve watched the video twice (4 hours) and I’ve even watched the highlights, and yet I still can’t bloody believe it. I still can’t believe that we came back from a two goal deficit with less than five minutes left on the clock, plus what injury time the referee decided to add on. I still can’t believe that we scored two goals and went on to win the penalty shoot-out. My everlasting memories of Sunday, 30 May 1999 will be the noise the City fans made, Nicky’s sheer delight after he’d saved the second penalty and the sight of the players paying homage to the fans. Do you know what? I still don’t bloody believe it.

  Nigel Edney: Forty thousand fans in laser blue and yellow leapt into the air in unison, the despair of the last few minutes matched and then beaten to a pulp by the relief and ecstasy we now felt. People around me had tears in their eyes, and grown men were openly hugging at a footy game.

  Mark Bell: I smiled from start to finish, proud to be with my dad, proud of my club and most proud of it’s unique supporters. I turned to dad in the 88th minute and said something along the lines of, ‘What a great day out for us – it can’t end like this.’ He looked at me tearfully and said, ‘Yes, a great day son – but that’s City for you.’ Over the next eight minutes, we seemed to just stand with arms aloft or around each other or some similar soul. As the penalties came, we helped dad up to stand on the bench, held him tight, and I whispered, ‘Now see a bit of history’ – he looked and laughed – me the eternal optimist, him the reverse. Ten minutes later we were all crying with joy. I couldn’t help feeling that this was what we all deserved after the disappointment of the last decades. As we moved back to King’s Cross, we sang and danced and chanted with our fellow blues so much that we never wanted the journey to end. We arrived at King’s Cross with 10 minutes to spare. Dad got on the train and I ran along the platform with a bottle of gin in my hand, waving goodbye and mouthing, ‘I love you.’ He just waved back, smiling and shaking his head as he explained to the people opposite that this was his mad City-fan son from South Africa. I cried. My mate Allan was also crying. He said I looked like a 10-year-old again. Ironic, that was exactly how I felt, like the days when we would leave the ground and walk down the pink passage together after City had won. My dad was the best in the world and me and him were City fans.

  David Scally: Then the two most amazing goals I have ever seen! Thank you referee! It was at this point I thought I was going to die. I have never been so excited in all my life, and I doubt I ever will. The tension was unbearable in the stands for extra-time, everyone was looking around giving those looks which say, ‘Oh my God, you look as bad as I feel!’ Then the penalties. When Weaver saved that last penalty, I was over the ‘Blue Moon’. I was cheering so much that I couldn’t breathe properly. In the car, trying to get on to the Ml again, I heard a load of beeping and cheering, looked out, and saw the entire team walking down the road into the Wembley Hilton. I’d taken my trainers off, but ran out on to the wet streets of Wembley holding an inflatable banana! Most of the team had gone in, but I managed to hit Gerard Wiekins on the head with my banana, to which he went ’Ow, what ya doing?’ and grinned. I also shook Andy Morrison’s hand. He’s a bloody big fella he is. That was almost it, apart from the fact that every service station that we stopped off at on the way home was packed full of Blues. It was a really amazing sight. Got home at 11 p.m. Watched the match again until 1 p.m. and went to bed, completely knackered!

  John Riley: I thought my brain was going to leak, poor Gillingham didn’t stand a chance. If we went ballistic when we equalised, we went bloody medieval when Nicky Weaver won it for us. Oh, and who scored the winning goal? The bloke who hasn’t scored in nine years – obviously! I finally got back to Hong Kong yesterday evening, several pounds lighter (sterling, that is) with a larynx that was shot to fuck.

  Mark Braude: The greatest game in the history of the world. Quite simply, in terms of elation, football and City will never get any better than this. How us fans deserved that day. And how I can’t get that game out of my mind!

  Neil Towse: What I will remember most about Sunday is ‘Blue Moon’ ringing around Wembley before, during and after the game. I truly never thought that would ever happen. A City fan summed it all up on the train home from King’s Cross, when he said that this just doesn’t happen to City. On Sunday, 30 May 1999, it did. I saw my team win at Wembley.

  Sharon Marsland: I cheered Horlock’s goal, although few around me did; but then when that ball took off from Dickov’s foot and 20 minutes later (or so it seemed) hit the back of the net, I had a moment of hysteria and screamed and screamed (typical girlie!). I have to say that I have never thanked my husband for introducing me to the blues eight years ago – let’s face it, we’ve not had any reason to. But I wouldn’t have missed that day at Wembley for anything. I know it’s only a promotion to the First Division but we are travelling in the right direction at last and I really enjoyed that day. So thanks, John, for making me a blue!


  Elaine Clegg: The next day I couldn’t move – everything hurt and ached, so I used it as an excuse to spend the whole day lying on the settee watching the game over and over and over . . .

  Jim Simmons: One of the happiest days of my life. I wanted to scream and dance about but it would hardly have been appropriate. I opted for a smug, self-satisfied grin which I still have, and no doubt will have until I’m stood in the away end at Port Vale next season, when it’s raining and we’re three nil down or similar. No, wait! I must have dreamt it. Maybe I’m still asleep, maybe you’re still asleep and you only think you’re reading this e-mail. Maybe Alan Ball is still in charge. You see what this club does to you . . .

  Geoff Collins: Weaver, you beauty. The screaming in the bedroom reached Boeing 747 proportions. Edghill – great penalty taken with great confidence. Then the crowning moment: Weaver makes himself look even bigger than he is by stretching his arms wide and pulls off the greatest of saves. Oh what joy. I almost came through the bloody ceiling. Memorable moments of the day: Dicky’s face after he scored the equaliser – pure joy. Nick Weaver encouraging the team to chase him after his final save . . . brilliant. I watch that bit on tape time and time again and I fill up with tears, it is such a brilliant moment. The whole team doing the ‘We are not worthy salute to the amazing blue horde. Joe Royle alone in the dressing-room at the end, quietly contemplating the day with a can of Carlsberg in his hand. Fantastic day, fantastic team, fantastic support.

  Martin Price: Having flown in for the day (from New Jersey) the emotional extremes of the match were particularly acute for me. When the second Gillingham goal went in I just felt sick, and sat in my seat close to tears thinking that this was the lowest point in all my years of supporting City – worse even than the Luton relegation defeat because I’d gone to such extremes to get to this match. I wondered how long it would be before I could forgive them for putting me through this.

  Roger Sharp: Well, quite frankly, I don’t know where to begin. That game was one of the most amazing experiences I have ever had. I laughed, I cried (literally) and I certainly almost died from the stress of it all. But, oh, we’re up and promoted in a way which only Manchester City could achieve. In the central London pubs after the game, the word on everyone’s lips seemed to be ‘unbelievable’ and the feeling was more of shock and amazement than sheer elation. For myself, even though I was there, I had to go out and buy all the major newspapers the next day just to prove we had done it in quite such a fairy-tale fashion.

  Kevin Duckworth: And then it happened. I have not seen that much hysteria since Little Jimmy Osmond came to Manchester. This could not happen to City. In fact, I look at my watch, 30 seconds to go. I know what it is; God is taking the piss. Gillingham will now go to the other end, Wiekens will pass the ball back to Nicky Weaver and it will be an own goal. The celebrations went on and on, the fans singing away to the Dambusters theme, ‘Rocking All over the World’, the Match of the Day theme tune. Another thing that stayed in my mind was Dennis Tueart pushing Nick Weaver back to the City fans as if to say – make the most of this lad.

  Benjamin Bloom: Never, ever have I witnessed scenes of pure ecstasy like the ones at Wembley in the 93rd minute of our last ever game in the Second Division. I reacted by bursting into tears. Within two seconds I was being embraced by around five City fans. I remember a young married couple behind me hugging and crying. When we finally won it, the joy on the boys’ faces made everything worth it. We had done the impossible. When the boys came over and got on their knees and worshipped us, it just summed it up perfectly. These boys did their best. We, the fans did our best. As a team, we and they got the job done. I must have cried more on Sunday than I have in 15 years. Hugging every blue in sight, last Sunday will be a game which will be looked back on as I look back on the 10–1 and the 5–1. A game never to be forgotten. We’re on the up!

  Paul Howe: I recorded the game last Sunday and every evening since I have to play the last 15 minutes of the 90 with the four goals. I just can’t stop thinking about it. Will I be like this all summer? Is there a cure? (I hope not.) Maybe it’s because I (we) have waited so long, but success (even if it’s only the Second Division play-off final) seems so sweet. If Andy Morrison hadn’t caught Nicky Weaver and pulled him to the ground would he still be running now? Brilliant. What a perfect day.

  Nigel Timperley: I know everyone has different memories of it, and I wish I too had been there instead of leaping around like a total loony with my mum in a half-deserted, and slightly bemused, Sheffield pub, but I’ll never forget Weaver’s run at the end, playing catch-me-if-you-can with the rest of the team on the most crazy, exultant victory lap that I bet Wembley has ever seen. We did it. Keep the faith.

  Steve Cooper: My dad was an avid City nut for more than 40 years – he said he remembered the 1956 Cup final against the mighty Huddersfield. He was at St James’s Park when City won the League in ’68 and all the other finals over the next 13 years. He was blue mad. He passed away on 26 March this year after losing the one battle not one of us escapes, but he always maintained that City would win the play-offs; a sure thing, he said. I was very fortunate to be at Wembley on Sunday to see the greatest day of my football life (if not my whole life – why, a friend said it was a better day than the day he lost his virginity). I, along with all you fans, have special, magic, unbelievable memories of that day that will never, ever go away and I want to dedicate all my memories of Sunday, 30 May 1999 to my best mate, my dad.

  Tony Kerr: Sat in a bar at five o’clock on a hot Sunday in Zante, surrounded by City and Gills fans in their own emotional turmoil. Our teams are at Wembley (hooray!) and we’re not there with them (boo!). Eighty-eight minutes later and an Oldham fan, who has been celebrating with the Gills, decides to leave before the larger City contingent take him round the back and force feed him moussaka. Six minutes later and we’re all hopping about, but cautiously. Extra-time, penalties, and City are oil and water in their ability to mix. When Weaver makes his second save, I am stunned. The one-eyed City fan across the table from me grabs me by the shoulders, screaming, ‘We’ve done it, yeeeeeeeeesss!’ An unbelievable, great, unforgettable day, and the best one I’ve had as a City fan since 1974.

  Andrew Phang: Tired and jet-lagged, and without access to the Internet, I tried the BBC World Service, thinking there would be some sort of limited commentary. I was wrong. Past mid-night, I was on the verge of going to bed but somehow lingered on. My heart sank at news of the two Gillingham goals. But this was a night of ‘lingering’. A goal for City: alas, too little too late. But, no, a fleeting second later, the commentary was almost hysterical and I knew that the impossible had happened as Dickov equalized. The commentary had lagged behind the match and it was actually almost the end of extra-time. Then, an almost casual (and again fleeting) observation that City had won on penalties! After decades in the wilderness, perhaps this match might mark a turning-point.

  Mark Jones: As the game was not broadcast on TV or radio in Australia, I phoned my brother up in Manchester and got him to put his phone next to the radio and listened to the game on Radio Five Live. Three hours later I put the phone down exhausted from both the tension of the game and the fact that it was now 3 a.m. Jesus, they don’t do things easy do they?

  Samuel Green: When Weaver made his final save, I just jumped and jumped and sang and sang. It was the weirdest feeling to actually be at the most famous ground in the world and be celebrating a meaningful victory. The irony of the whole evening was that I was walking with my head down, almost suicidal (well, not quite); and one minute and an hour later, I was stuck in a queue to get out, which I did not want to do, with happy City fans (for once) cheering about a memorable victory that none of us will ever forget.

  Stephen Wallwork: As I, and many fans, got to the tube line a policeman took his hand away from his ear-piece and said, ‘I hate to tell you this guys, but it’s 2–2.’ ‘Rubbish,’ I thought, City do not come back from 2–0 down with only two mi
nutes to go. But it was confirmed and hoards of blues turned and ran back to the ground. Being on the portly side, I decided not to. Anyway, I’d only get there to see Gillingham take the lead again. So I decided to get on the tube to Uxbridge and drive home from there. In the future, when people ask, ‘Were you there when City finally turned the corner?’ I’ll say, yes . . . and no.

  John Bradley: When Paul Dickov scored, the emotion built up inside me over countless years exploded in a massive sense of relief and exuberance (my mate – I won’t reveal his name – even let his excitement boil over by wetting himself!). Did we really do what the rags have become so adept at doing countless times over the years?

  Gary Pritchard: Having failed miserably to get Wembley tickets, my pal and myself found a South Wales pub showing the game. Surrounded by Sunday diners, the surreal atmosphere was enhanced considerably by a cabaret band striking up cheesy ’60s songs in the second half. 1–0! Shit! 2–0! We look at each other, stand up and leave. Speechless, we tune in to Radio Five Live to hear the inevitable final humiliation. ‘City have pulled one back through Horlock!’ I turn the car around and head back for the pub. Pal can’t cope so he stays in the car. Within one minute I’m running out to the car screaming ‘2–2!’ He’s scrambling out of the door to get into the pub – we’re both drunk with disbelief. We settle in for extra-time – regular glances to each other of sheer euphoria. Penalties, and we’re strangely confident. Weaver running away from his players in one of the most memorable scenes I think I’ll ever witness. We both weep.

  Charles Augarde: The White Hart in Wolvercote, Oxford, was where I saw the match, largely on my own. A Coventry fan dragged himself away from the pool match to watch as the amazing finale took shape, and by the end of penalties a big group were jumping about shouting, ‘Yes . . .’ This is what it’s about.