THE BACK STORY

This blog is essentially about me and football.Sorry about the "me" bit that but it's probably best to get that out of the way early doors (or "early doorssh") as Ruud Gullit once famously said on a MOTD post match interview. His daft Dutch accent is almost as convincing as Steve Maclarens. Anyway I digress. That will probably be another feature of this blog.

Lets cut to the quick. In footballing terms my wife and my mistress have just met at a party and have decided to be pals. Let me explain. Ok let me explain after I explain to my wife (which I do have one of) that the bit about wife/mistress was a metaphor and that the mistress (which I don't have one of) referred to previously is therefore metaphorical.

On the 8th April 1969 I went to my first match at Turf Moor to watch Burnley get beaten 2-1 by Everton. It was a night match and I sat with my dad in a wooden stand which is where the Bob Lord Stand is now. For approximately the next 9 years , from the age of 9 to 18 I watched Burnley home and away in good times and bad.

When I was 18 I came to Manchester as a student. Well I didn't actually come here as a student I became a student after I enrolled at Manchester university. I came to Manchester as a lad from a small northern industrial town (Nelson) who supported Burnley and liked beer and had never seen a green pepper. More of the green pepper thing later maybe. I liked football and I supported Burnley. I didn't hold out much prospect of seeing much of Burnley. As a student there wasn't much chance of getting to many Burnley games as travel back in 1978 (even the 35 miles to Burnley) was something of a mission, and expensive.

I hatched a plan to fuel my football lust. I would watch out for Burnley's results, follow them in the papers and on the telly and generally talk about them on the phone with family and friends. In order to satisfy the lust for live football I would go and watch one of the Manchester teams. I couldn't possibly contemplate watching Manchester United, as every non- Manchester United fan will understand.

So, on the 6th December 1978 I went to my first game at Manchester City. It was a UEFA cup night match and City won 3-0 against AC Milan beating them 5-2 on aggregate. It's pretty much been an anti climax since then!!

As the years went by and life moved on, and so did I, to a house a quarter of a mile away from Maine Road, the attachment to City grew and the bonds with Burnley weakened but were never severed, quite.

I went to Maine Road, and occasionally to away games, as often as time and money allowed. This varied over the years but my attachment to City grew stronger with each season and as I passed the point at which I'd lived in Manchester longer than I'd lived anywhere else I began to feel like a Blue. My eldest daughter was a Blue and some of my fondest memories of her is going to Maine Road with her and my mate Chris. We would hand her over the turnstile (sorry City, but she was only 2) and she would sit on Chris's or my knee. For a good number of years my daughter held an enviable record. She had never seen City lose at Maine Road. Admittedley she didn't go that often but her presence was re-assuring when she did.

Some great memories and hardly any success (Division 2 play- off final victory anyone?). You could say that I supported City through thin and thin.

All this went on evolving happily for 30 years or so with only a few minor collisions. There have actually been 7 meetings of the two teams in all competitions in the last 33 years. 2 of these were in Division 1 and 2 in Division 2 when City were doing their promotion/relegation pogoing in the lates 90's early 00's. I largely ignored this as a minor discomfort that would surely given City's record, soon pass. I once avoided one such meeting by staying in bed until the match was over!!

Then in the summer of 2008 a new regime at Eastlands...new money...new manager...new players. What would the future hold. My adopted team were about to step up a gear.

And then....on Monday 25th May 2009...disaster...joyous disaster...the Championship Play- Off at Wembley. Burnley FC versus Sheffield United FC for a place in the Barclays Premier League. Football Valhalla, the home of the football gods.

What to do now? My boyhood team in with the gods. My adopted team, my mistress, in the same divine division.

This was different. The previous minor collisions didn't involve my dad and my cousins and my nephew and my brother-in-law almost shaking with excitement at the thought of watching Ronaldo (spoilt that dream didn't you United - thanks), and Gerrard and Torres and Rooney and Lampard and , and, oh god...Robhino. And watching them at Turf Moor. Every week. For a whole year at least. I couldn't help sharing the excitement. Days and nights down the Turf that my dad thought he might never see again and my nephew had never seen at all.

I kissed my dad at Wembley, that barmy, balmy spring Monday and he kissed me back.

This was different. The allegiance stakes had been raised.

What to do?

...more soon...