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MANCHESTER CITY v BORO BLAST FROM THE PAST
Mid-table and suddenly Pearce is the best manager since sliced bread! Or at least a viable England candidate, which is admittedly not quite the same thing.
A traditional club once garlanded with success, they now stand at that difficult distance between mediocrity and success. And being Boro fans, we all know how frustrating that can be. Cut to your memories...
A Cam Goes Wandering
Manchester City 0-1 Middlesbrough, 15/02/1997
It was one of those great cup games that had a bit of everything. Great for me too as I was living in Merseyside at the time - well on the Wirral, which at that time had become part of Cheshire again because they're all snobs and Merseyside was too scummy for them even though they're all plastic Scousers anyway. But I digress. Only living an hour or so away I decided to go to Maine Road. Even managed to get a mate to queue for my ticket and post it over - what a nice man.
A long walk to Rock Ferry station; Merseyrail "Hope for the best" train to Lime Street and then a train to Manchester, which ironically was ultimately going to Middlesbrough. I took it as a sign and there I was at Manchester Piccadilly station. A friend who I'd been working with in foreign parts had asked me to buy her a Cosmo as she couldn't get it where she was but why I decided to buy it then, before the match, I'll never know. Probably because I remembered to.
A quick beer and something to eat and I was off to the ground, by bus. Surrounded by Man Citeh fans. Thankfully when I got on there was hardly anyone there and incredibly after having had two pints of Thwaites I had the foresight to get a return - oh how I would be thankful for that three hours later. This was particularly the case as I was surrounded by gits doing Liam Gallagher impersonations - or do Mancs REALLY sound like that? So I decided it would be best to keep my gob shut. I would have read the magazine I knew I had buried deep inside a WHSmith's bag but felt that that would just cause worse problems.
An arrival at Maine Road surrounded by the odious Mancs meant I had to loiter to get to the away end without making it obvious that I was an away fan. That done, into the stadium I went. Another beer, visit to the bogs and I was ready and armed with a Man Citeh programme too.
The match was your typical Boro cup display of the era - long periods of Man Citeh possession with the odd Boro counterattack by Juno, which often ended with him getting chopped down by Steve Lomas or similar.
Half time and having read the Man Citeh programme too quickly I dared to open the Cosmo. All I can say is that I was both shocked and appalled by the content. If they're asking that Nuts and Zoo go on the top shelf then Cosmo should be sold by asking the newsagent for it discreetly and it then being passed to you around the counter in a brown envelope. And I'm sure there was an article that was titled "Why all men are bastards and are shit in bed" - or possibly I made that up as a stereotypical woman's mag sort of a title. And of course the wags around me questioned my sexuality for starting to read a Cosmo. Of course now I could point out that I was metrosexual - which would probably have gotten me beaten up.
Anyway, eventually we produced a decent attack and Juno scored a fantastic goal.
But the best bit of the game for me? When Festa went into a challenge against Lomas and twatted him good and proper, plain for all the world to see without the need for super slo-mo replays and got away with it - not even seeing a yellow card come out. Fantastic.
Then came the journey home. Outside the away end were 27,000 baying Liam Gallaghers who seemed to have taken some sort of exception to the result. Such lovely people. I got out, made my way to the bus stop and saw, not unsurprisingly a lot of pissed off Liam Gallaghers making various comments about the Boro and how we were all bastards and how could nasty Uncle Festa have hit poor defenceless Steve Lomas so?
Thank goodness for return bus tickets meaning you didn't have to word "Manchester Piccadilly" to the driver. I can't imitate a Manc accent under any circumstances, Scouse no problem, a passable Brummie and if very pissed Glaswegian, but Manc no. Worst of all, some of the bastards were canvassing passenger's views on the match. So should I pretend to be mute, pissed or a Scouser? I even thought about brandishing the Cosmo as I kind of defence, figuring the eejits would piss themselves laughing, take the piss out of me and then I'd have an excuse for keeping quiet. Thankfully it didn't come to that and I was relatively safely deposited near Piccadilly station.
Train back to Lime Street, a celebratory drink in the Central, met up with a mate leading to Cains with Ginger Wine chasers and abuse of students later on. We even managed to see the match on MOTD where Festa's assault on Lomas looked even better.
And the Cosmo? Well it didn't make it back to the Wirral. I have no idea what happened to it but reckon that it was left in the Flying Picket pub because I for sure had it in the Philharmonic...
Ian G
Man City 1-1 Middlesbrough, 02/11/1987
I'd just moved to Manchester to start my university course, and persuaded some of my newly acquired pals to accompany me to Maine Road to see Boro in a second division game.
One was a Liverpool fan and two others Spurs fans. This may have clouded their judgement, and they were probably expecting a better night out than they got...
It was a cold wet night, so I wasn't overjoyed to find that the away supporters section was uncovered. I was also surprised at how bad the ground was for a 'big club'.
It was a shocking match, befitting the conditions and surroundings. It ended in a 1-1 draw, and my friends would never again accompany me to a Boro games - can't think why!
I'm hoping for a better game and a better environment when I visit the City of Manchester Stadium this weekend!
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