I'm just a Fan of the Invisible Man...

Well, I feel I should be far more upset than I am. Maybe I'm getting old, who knows(!); maybe I'm just softening a little.
Another day at the soap opera that is my beloved Manchester City, and another soap opera like saga to keep us on the edge of our seats!
We went into the match on the back of the new that our inspirational skipper(!) had withdrawn his transfer request and agreed that he really did want to stay after all. Add to this the fact that if we win tonight we leap frog United and Arsenal to the top spot. The first time we've been top at Christmas since 1929 or something.
Who are we playing? Everton. A team that haven't won in 7 games. Easy really.
But this is City, and we're 2-0 down after 15 minutes. As ever we're seemingly playing the 11 men of Everton plus the referee. Even after they have a man sent off on the hour mark we cannot get the goals we need and it finishes 2-1 to the visitors.
I'm disappointed, and a little annoyed (at the two comical goals we gave away as much as the referee!) but having had 60% of the posses ion, and 25 shots on goal (to Evertons 3) I'm not sure what more we could have done against a side as well organised as Everton.
It was something Adam said along side me that calmed me down and now in hindsight is my overriding feeling of the night.
"It's just like the old days at Maine Road this..."
Basically, that would mean city being a bit crap, but really giving it there all. Us all hoping we're going to win the league but knowing really, for now, we're not quite ready. It was enjoying a good game of football.
It's something I am prone to saying, although something I often forget.
It's only a game.
Don't get me wrong, after my wife and two beautiful sons, Manchester City are the most important aspect of my life (some would say on a par with my family...) but that doesn't, and shouldn't detract from the statement, "It's only a game".
If we could go out, buy the best players, give them the most money teach them the best way to play, and instantly win everything it would be good but...I think I'd miss the journey.
Don't get me wrong, that's where I want to be, but I want to get there slowly, and enjoy the journey. I want nights like tonight when you feel deflated, but there's always next Saturday, always the next game.
I've gone from the old first division to the second, back again, down to the 3rd tier and now to the brink of the champions league, sometimes its worth stopping, pinching yourself and reminding myself with some disbelief that "We are not really here..."
Bring on the next game!
(And to add insult to injury I got pulled over by the Police on the way home!)

I think the Gypsy Curse has followed us...

It really is true that every silver lining has a cloud and never is that more true than with my beloved Manchester City.

We win convincingly away from home for the fifth time this season. The team is beginning to gel. We manage three goals without our top scorer who is suspended. We go joint top of the table on points with Arsenal - above United for the first time I can remember...

And then the same Talismanic top scorer (who I should probably mention is also the captain - announces he wants to leave!

The club says no, and calls him greedy, and led by his agent - He throws his toys well and truly out the pram saying he has fallen out with someone and in no way can he play again for the club.

He then points out that the fans are great, the manager is great, the owner is great... so who exactly has he fallen out with?

The mind boggles, and I'm afraid I have very little sympathy for the man who last week said he definitely wanted to stay...

The deed is done...

Well the deed has finally been done - a little earlier than planned - but Wilf, my son, has finally at the age of four years 10 months, entered the world of joy and happiness and pain and misery.
On this September day he has been partially detached from his mothers bosom and truly joined the roller coaster, which should run for a lifetime - which my Father passed to me.
Wilf today, went to his first football match.
Obviously not just any football match (Beth had some odd idea to take him to watch a small match first) a match at Eastlands watching the greatest team in the land and all the world (as the song goes) Manchester City.
For the record, it was against Blackburn Rovers, and ended in a somewhat disappointing 1-1 draw, but that is the least of this story and something to which Wilf is completely ignorant.
As mentioned above, it was all a little earlier than planned - I cannot remember the first game I went to, and wanted to be something my two boys could cherish and tell their children in years to come - but there was a spare ticket going, and I just thought , what the heck.
I put it to Beth, who was not impressed. It came off the back of a discussion I'd had with Wilf , about him liking United, which had ended with me telling him he could live in the garden if that was the case, and I'd just thought, lets strike whilst the iron is hot, and give him a day to never be forgotten.
Beth was very unsure and the debate waged to and fro as we tried to complete the weekly shop. In the end we asked Wilf.
"Do you want to come to the football to watch City?"
"Yes"
"Why?"
"Because Dad says I've got to go."
Not really the answer I was looking for, and gave the impression I had been applying undue pressure on the boy...
It was finally agreed he would come (After I had called a friend who was also taking his son for the first time that day) and amidst some tears from his Mum (who had seen him go to full time school for the first time earlier in the week) he was prepared for the match.
Maybe I should have taken over at this point as he ended up looking like he was going on a trip up Everest.
He had a warm jacket on under his waterproof coat (and over his City shirt), he had a large rucksack packed with, well almost everything.
Two drinks, crisps, a chocolate biscuit, a cup of sweets, a book to read, a notepad and pen,tissues, a full change of clothes, an apple, raisins, plasters, calpol, a sleeping bag, small cooking stove...
Okay the last two weren't, but you get the idea. a bag that only a mum could pack.
We set off, agreed to meet Grandad and Grandma Shona at half time, picked up Liz and Adam, and made our way to Eastlands.
He started on his sweets in the car and was clearly excited at the prospect of his big day out. More sweets and a burger outside the stadium, and we joined the queue and entered, forcing our way through the hordes inside and got to our seats. I introduced Wilf to the regulars around our seats (who were warned about their swearing) and before we knew it the teams were out.
Wilf loved it.
He cheered, clapped and booed in all the right places, his little face glowing as he stood on his seat to see his future heroes.
16 minutes on the clock.
"Dad, can we go home now?"
He then finished his sweets, ate his crisps, looked at the Moonchester comic, had Liz read his Transformers book to him, and did some drawing.
By half time, he didn't feel well, and wanted a poo.
We went to meet Granddad and Grandma and was a bit clingy, clearly tired. I told him there wasn't long left, he sighed and followed me back to our seats.
He did me so proud during the second half, during a lull in the crowd noise, amidst some disquiet from the fans he started shouting out to any that would listen around us.
"Come on City, Come on City - Keep on Trying!"
It was such a mummy's boys kind of line, those around us smiled, laughed, and started shouting again for City to pull their collective fingers out.
Even the chap behind changed his normal rantings as he caught Wilf's eye,
"Referee you're an absolute fu - fu -f - idiot!"
The game ended, and we left (Wilf oblivious to the score or what we had really been dong for the past couple of hours)
The rain came down as we trudged back to the car. We all got soaked to the skin, and Wilf splashed in puddles all the way. I think this is the main thing he will remember from this day.
We got to the car, and he got in (without the carefully packed change of clothes in his bag) wet and happy.
Fast asleep before we were out of the city centre.
One very happy little boy and very proud dad, who will remember the day for far longer than his son.
(Please note, when I have wiped the tear from my eye, I will return to my normal moaning self in my next blog!)

A day has passed...

Well a day has passed since City failed to get the fourth champions league spot and my original disappointment is turning to annoyance, and maybe even a certain calmness, in the fact that it is probably going to be City's best ever Premiership finish, and probably the highest finish I can remember in the top division.

The annoyance is aimed pretty squarely at the media and their coverage of the game, and the general back slapping to Tottenham and Redknapp in particular.

I will laugh so hard the day he is taken down for being the devious, conniving, back hander taking, swindling git that he is.

His knocking up of players is a disgrace, his holier than though view on his own team is annoying, his hysterical ranting at others is despicable, and his dodgy dealings make Terry Venables look like a saint!

There is a reason Portsmouth went into administration, and it isn't Peter Storey!

But all of this has been forgotten by the press today. Add to this their playing of the "Money bags City" being pipped at the post by poor lowly Spurs with their English players and wonderful team spirit?

... So Spurs haven't spent anything on players? I seem to remember them being just a few million short on city in the last couple of transfer windows?

Also, City may have foreign owners, but to imply that City just have expensive foreign imports? - tell that to Wayne Bridge, Gareth Barry or Michah Richards, Shaun Wright Phillips, Nedum Onuoha or Adam Johnson.

I hope a year in the Europa will do us good. I hope we don't go mad and try and buy another new team. Just one or two new faces and lets see what we can win next year.

Not "aim for 4th" but actually win.

Let Spurs struggle with the extra games - I want to see some silverware!

Chin Up.

Gutted..Absolutely Gutted

Oh Well, I am so gutted about tonights resilt in so many ways...

role on next season....

Doesn't time fly...

...when you should be updating your blog on a regular basis? I know I've said this before, but I really am quite poor at this, and I do have every intention of updating this thing once if not a couple of times a week.

I think the single biggest problem in my desire to be the most cutting, witty, informative social columnist/blogger in the known world, is the fact that I seem to be surrounded by those far better at it than me!

As mentioned previously, when I want to be all anti media and knocking the daily Mail outrage brigade, there's Charlie Brooker doing it far better than me!

If I want to be all funny and satirical there's "The Daily mash", for all things nerdy there's "Topless Robot"

When I want to talk about my beloved Manchester City there's a particularly good blog I read - "The Lonesome Death of Roy Carroll"

I suppose the one area not fully covered yet (or that I've managed to stumble across yet) is a good blog knocking all things Man U****d.

I know they are pretty good at doing it themselves, but the recent Green and Yellow scarf "protest" at their owners is making me chuckle even more than normal. That along with their current and past players lining up to point out how they would never play for City no matter how much money we were to throw at them.

I think it's also worth pointing out , Mr Neville and Mr Beckham... errrmm we don't want to sign you, and by the mere fact that you both work for the minimum wage and live in housing association flats proves that you are not in it for the money.

Oh no, that's right you've spent the bulk of your careers playing for the richest clubs in the world! - I guess they must pay you peanuts. (okay, maybe they do in Neville's case...)

I was drawn to the following comments on the Mail on Sunday website within a column by Piers Morgan -

"Beckham’s been a treacherous, money-grabbing, club-hopping, fame-hungry, egotistical little weasel"

I would like to point out how disgraceful the above comment is and totally out of order, to the point of being completely offensive...to weasels, never mind the fact of Piers Morgan calling someone else a weasel!

Everything else seems okay though.

The above comment was in response to "Becks" wearing a Green and Yellow (sorry Gold) scarf at the end of the recent U****d, Milan match.

As touched on above the whole "protest" movement at Old Trafford is really quite comical, and if they really want to look at football clubs pulling themselves apart they couldn't do much worse than looking at their richer neighbours throughout the Swales era.

Anyway, the merits or otherwise of their protest will be far better documented elsewhere, but they only real point I want to raise, is the general stupidity of the fans.

These Green and Yellow(sorry Gold) scarves are being given away free? I don't think so. Other than some sweatshop knocking them out and Salford scallies selling them on, it would only be funnier if it was actually the Glaziers producing them. (At least City's original batch of Blue and white scarves were a Free gift of Frank Shinawatra - okay the fact he's an international fugitive maybe waters this point down...)

I actually saw someone (presumably on their way to OT for the game the other night) wearing a green and yellow (sorry gold) Hat, scarf, shirt (and presumably socks). Yes, he looked like a jester.

The Glaziers being consummate business men, I imagine U****d's away kit next year will be... Green and Yellow(sorry Gold) and they'll all be queuing up at the megastore to buy it!

The Green and Yellow (sorry.. this is getting tedious isn't it?) protest is in part in support of the Red Knights consortium of 70 leading business men looking to buy U****d back from the Evil Glaziers. I believe one of the 70 is a certain McManus - the same Irish racehorse owner - who sold his shares (for a massive profit) to the Americans in the first place!

You really couldn't make this up its like something out of Monty Python!

The choice of Green and Yellow, is showing how great the club was before it went Red, and turned it Manchester United from Newton Heath. The reason for that reformation? Because they were going out of business! Priceless.

Anyway, I'm going to put on my black and white Maltese cross scarf in celebration of St Marks Boys club in protest at the next City game... well, maybe not!

SNOW! END OF THE WORLD! A MAYAN CONSPIRICY!

Well, what a day its been in drizzly Manchester! 5th of January 2010 will go down in history as not the day the world ended due to the Large Hadron Collider being switched on, or the end of the Mayan calendar - but the day it snowed in Manchester. Quite Heavily.

Now don't get me wrong, I appreciate we are not really set up for snow to interrupt our usual drizzle, and it was quite heavy ( about 5-6 inches) but I haven't seen a city and its people attempt to grind to a halt seemingly at the say so of the media who went into immediate panic mode as soon as they all got into their studios.

You really would have thought a giant meteorite was about to hit the earth!

I left to go to work at 0520 and stepped out of my door to see the full extent of the snow. The first thing I thought was "Gosh, it's been snowing".

I picked up two workmates and drove into the centre of Manchester. We were all in agreement that it had been snowing, and at times, things were a bit hairy on the roads, due to the thickness of the snow.

We had a bit of a dilemma once we arrived in town, on trying to decide which car park to park in. Once this was decided, we parked up and walked to the office, slipping a little on the way, we arrived with damp shoes and wet socks and settled down for a days work.

That really was the level of our concern at the weather.

Within an hour or so the media had woken up and started spreading panic amongst the general population (and in particular the rest of my staff due in at the office).

The phone calls started.

"I'm not sure I can make it in my cars stuck!"

"The radio says all public transport has been suspended!"

"The TV says that the emergency services are no longer functioning!"

"The Internet says the Airport is closed - THE AIRPORT IS CLOSED!!!"

Now, how Manchester Airport being closed affects anything I'm not too sure; as far as I know, none of the guys on the service desk fly in to work.

The airport seems a strange barometer for the weather - "It was that bad, they closed the airport"

Now forgive me if I'm wrong, but Ringway has two mile long stretches of concrete, which when it snows, will quickly get covered. It then isn't really wise to send airplanes hurtling up and down those stretches of concrete to either land or take off. You can't really ask the Ryanair flight to Didcot to tootle along at under 20mph in case its a bit slippy.

No you close the airport (or more importantly the runways) clear them, and then get things moving again. Oddly this doesn't really make the news.

As it turned out we managed to cajole/ bully pretty much all the staff into the office, and they all arrived quite safely in one piece. I'm sure they'll all have better excuses worked out for tomorrow.

A special mention should go here to Dave "Cold - that's not cold, let me tell you about cold" Hardisty, who arrived from somewhere past Bolton half an hour early for his shift wearing a short sleeve shirt!

I was then most annoyed to see the City watch was postponed for tomorrow night! How can they postpone a match the day before - and a derby at that! Surely it should have waited until the actual day of the game - it isn't as though the fans have got to travel far - oh actually, scratch that I was forgetting the united fans coming up from the home counties - and the disruption to the Irish ferry crossings.

I despair!

Anyway, where did I put that orange football!

Happy New Year and All that...

Well another year comes and goes, and after 2001, we're into our second special Sci-fi year - and there's still no sign of any flying cars!

Were the authors / makers of those books and films miles off course, or are these amazing products being kept from us. (We may have computers in a mobile phone - but where's the 3 course meal in a single pill?)

Anyway, I guess the next milestone year is 2019, and the world of Bladerunner? Will there be androids running about a rain swept California and yet more flying cars? Well we've got the rain here in Manchester so if everyone else could just catch up please.

That said, I suppose it could all finish in the year 2012 so maybe I should just start building my own ark!

As to a new years resolution - I promise to write more.... but don't hold your breath - I may just be finishing the prototype astromech droid to serve drinks at my next bar-be-que!

Happy New Year all!