Article by Wswilly3
Until recently supporters of clubs at the top reaches of the Premiership quite liked Manchester City, with the possible exception of those few Rag fans that were actually born in Manchester. No, we were that quaint team which didn’t do much harm to anybody and equally we were usually good for six points and visits to Old Trafford, Highbury, Stamford Bridge and Anfield could pretty well be regarded as a home banker.
What’s more we wouldn’t pose any threat to them in the transfer market by trying to compete for the kinds of players they were recruiting. Their supporters couldn’t quite get their minds round unfashionable Manchester City having the pulling power to attract a Torres or a Ballack or a Henry or a Rooney. And do you know what, they were right, as we wouldn’t have stood an earthly. It was all a very comfy closed shop, where the rich and successful would attract the most money via Europe, TV income, league position, sponsorship and replica shirt sales. In turn they would secure the best footballers, wanting the biggest salaries, the most glamour and the opportunity to play at the highest level.
In this situation we City supporters subliminally learnt to act in a certain way. It wasn’t smart to be particularly positive or over confident; as always around the corner would be a huge let down, a metaphorical kick in the goolies. If we did get into the last eight of the Cup, we’d get no further and if we were winning with five minutes to go, we’d concede in the 90th minute.
Yep, to combat this inevitability, we developed our defences; a gallows humour second to none and phrases, now not liked by Mr Cook, such as ‘typical City’. We also took as much glee in the Rags losing, as in City winning because we were starved of success but remained loyal and enjoyed our occasional bit of glory, which kept us all genuine.
Then one Christmas Pantomime season, an old and gnarled City fan saw an old lamp lying in the road on his way back from a session on the Boddingtons and pork scratching. Out of it popped a genie and as we all know his wish was granted and a handsome Arab prince on a big white charger appeared etc etc.
Now suddenly we were like the bus driver from Glossop who had won a million pounds on the lottery. How should he act in his new circumstances? ‘It will not change my life and I will still be driving the 395 into Piccadilly on Monday morning’ or ‘This is fantastic, I’m going to spend, spend, spend and let the good times roll’. The bus driver was now getting strange looks from his well dressed passengers, who had seemed to quite like him before but they were now developing strange green glints in their eyes and were saying aggressive things to him. ‘No good will come of it, money doesn’t buy happiness, you mark my words. Take my advice, stay as you are be low key and know your place.’
Now this was quite a problem for the bus driver, as over the years he had learned how to behave when dealing with the well dressed passengers. He never expected positive things and often said ‘Typical of My Luck’.
So what should he do? Should he stay as he was, heed the advice of the green eyed passengers and not take great pleasure and enjoyment from his new situation or should he recognise his changed circumstances and take a more confident stance? He could become optimistic about the future, he could tell people that he was looking forward to having better times; he could even do the things that his green eyed passengers did and buy things from the same shops as them. But there was a problem, if he did that, they wouldn’t like it and they would say he was being arrogant and cocky. What a dilemma to have!!
And do you know what he did. He said bollocks to the lot of them, I’m fed up of playing second fiddle to those bastards and he told them to drive the bus themselves and other such things that are not printable in this nice story.
And now several years later he is a happy man, free of the shackles of self doubt and glad that he had taken a positive stance from the start and had not been influenced by the green eyed hypocrites. Oh and as in all nice stories, he lived happily ever after.
Good night, sweet dreams, and don’t forget to finish your cocoa.
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