This article was written by Jacob Beaver: I used to look forward to watching Manchester City play more than anything, even more than receiving presents on my birthday or waking up on Christmas morning. Now I’m bored of seeing a predictable style of passing, tiki-taka style. It is pointless, irritating and belongs in Spain. I am fed up with winning just about every game we play. It is too predictable.
I miss the days when I would turn up and expect opposing sides to give us a good going over and then leave surprised when, on the odd occasion we would somehow dig out a grinding draw, or win when the odds were stacked against us.
I miss the time when Maine Road rocked. I miss the crowd singing. I miss the atmosphere, and I miss the banter. I miss the days when I could stand on the Kippax. I miss the old days.
At the Etihad, I see nothing but corporate hospitality. I hear very little singing, and I feel little or no atmosphere. I see young Blues on their mobile phones. I see them videoing parts of the game, and I see young adults talking to no one except on their recording devices. They are not there to watch City – they have another agenda.
I miss the days when the club struggled to pay the bills. I miss going into a pub full of Blues, ‘getting on it’ and having a craic.
Nowadays the pubs, (the ones that haven’t closed down) have got rid of the dart board, pool table, and jukebox and replaced them with fine gastro dining. A pint costs a small fortune, and the staff are no longer landlords but employees who have little or no interest in customer service.
At 60 I don’t class myself as old. I don’t receive my state pension for another couple of years, and occasionally I find I have a spring in my step. My faculties are intact; I wish I could understand why supporting my team, the team I have followed since the early 1960’s feels different these days.