International Heartbreak

I'm struggling to think of two other words in the English language which fill me with the same kind of insufferable dread and despair as "international" and "break". Not even "Ed" and "Sheeran" or "Dunelm" and "Mill" manage to consistently stir up as much doom deep within me as the name given to the most unwelcome of intervals in the domestic football calendar.

Alas, the new Premier League season is only three fixtures old yet it's already been cruelly snatched away from us in favour of the footballing equivalent of a plane stopping to refuel in Barnsley en route to Barbados. To use another analogy, it's a bit like presenting a child with a shiny new toy Fire Engine on Christmas Day, letting them play with it until Boxing Day and then locking it away in a cupboard until New Year with only the box it came in to occupy them in the meantime. It wouldn’t be so bad if we were being deprived of proper football for something worthwhile but when the alternative is England vs. Moldova, it really takes the biscuit.

Still, at least this brief interlude gives us a chance to reflect upon a slightly errant start to the season from City in which the Blues have somewhat fortuitously managed to amass seven points from three relatively unconvincing performances. A trip to Anfield so early in the season was bound to be a tricky encounter and it’s fair to say Mancini’s men were lucky to escape with a point from a match in which they were second best for the most part. The hosts played with the kind of fire in their bellies you’d expect from a side going into their first home match of the season in front of a new manager and were it not for a couple of Liverpool defensive howlers City would undoubtedly have gone home empty handed on the day.

Last weekend, Mark Hughes and his army (quite literally) of new QPR recruits rolled into town for an early season reminder of the final day of the last campaign. Thankfully, proceedings were much less dramatic this time around with the only cause for concern coming from a scruffy Bobby Zamora equaliser against the run of play early in the second half. City were by far the better of the two sides and would have killed the game off much sooner had they been able to stick the ball in the net more often from the multitude of chances created. The final scoreline of 3-1 was probably a fair reflection of the afternoon in spite of a slightly laboured performance from the reigning champions.

It seems churlish to express even slight dissatisfaction at the start City have made to the season but in many ways we’re the victims of our success of this time last year when we blew all before us away in fine style. When the bar has been set so high I suppose it’s natural to focus on the blemishes on what has actually been a very good start in terms of points gained. It’s comforting to note that it’s still early days and nobody has played particularly brilliantly thus far. Chelsea are now the only team in the country with a 100% record after three games but the Radamel Falcao inspired spanking they received from Atlético Madrid last Friday night suggests that even they have plenty of room for improvement. Despite my absolute hatred for mid-season internationals, it may actually end up being the case that this break has come at a good time for everyone and it’s to be hoped the squad will reunite next week with renewed vigour and determination for the fixtures ahead. Either that or it’ll kill any momentum we were beginning to build stone dead. We’ll see.

Last Friday saw the closure of the transfer window for a few months and it seemed those in charge of player acquisition at City approached the deadline in much the same way I approached my university dissertation with a mad eleventh hour trolley dash resulting in five new recruits for the club. Thankfully, the fruits of City’s labour will no doubt prove to be significantly more useful than the dirge I churned out during a night of caffeine fuelled frenzy on the eve of my dissertation deadline. It was actually quite entertaining to see the club do some business on Sky Sports News’ and Jim White’s raison d'être as transfer deadline day has been a pretty low key affair for City fans in recent seasons.

Of the new signings, flying Brazilian wing-back Maicon probably represents the best value for money at a measly £3.5 million and was apparently paid for with the loose change Sheikh Mansour found in his pants the morning after a night out. City have also added another turbine to the midfield engine room with the signing of the highly rated and ridiculously handsome Spaniard Javi Garcia from Benfica. The provocatively named young Serbian defender Matija Nastasic’s arrival was a relief, mainly because it means we’ll no longer have to witness Stefan Savic learning some harsh lessons in defending as he moved in the opposite direction as part of a player-plus-cash deal with Fiorentina.  The signing of Scott Sinclair is a bit of a head scratcher but I’d like to think he’ll work hard enough to be the player Adam Johnson could’ve been. Richard Wright, like Stuart Taylor before him, is a lucky, lucky man.

The departure of Nigel De Jong to AC Milan was easily the most upsetting move of the window. The Dutch enforcer has been a fine servant to the club during his time here and will be missed, though it has to be said his limitations as a footballer are there for all to see and it wasn’t a massive surprise to see him moved on. His commitment and endeavour will never be forgotten and I think I speak for City fans everywhere when I say I wish him all the best. Elsewhere, Emmanuel Adebayor has finally done the decent thing and fucked off to Tottenham, while Roque Santa Cruz will run down the final year of his contract (cheers Mark!) on loan to Málaga.

Crucially, all of the key players from last season are still at the club and the new ones will significantly reinforce and hopefully strengthen what was already a brilliant team. We left it late, but I think we can be pretty pleased with the work done this summer when all’s said and done.

Arguably the biggest event of the past couple weeks was the draw for the group stages of the Champions League in which City will face Ajax, Borussia Dortmund and Real Madrid. As if last year’s baptism of fire wasn’t enough, the Blues face an even tougher challenge this time around and must learn from the mistakes made at this stage of the competition last season if they’re to have any chance of qualifying for the knock out round. Personally, I’m happy with the draw. The Champions League is still a new and exciting experience and I’ll take whatever we can get from it for the time being. Regardless of the results, I imagine most City fans will relish all of the fixtures and there’s no reason the team can’t take the group by storm if they play well. A few years ago I could only dream of a competitive fixture between City and Real Madrid, but I can honestly say I never once dreamt about City vs. CFR Cluj.

Anyway, we should probably enjoy our time in the Champions League while it lasts because if UEFA president Michele Platini has his wicked way we’ll be banned from playing in it in a couple of years. Whilst I fully appreciate that there needs to be some kind of regulation at both ends of the scale of finances in football, I can’t help but feel that the motives behind the much vaunted Financial Fair Play regulations are confusing and suspicious, particularly when they come from as close to home as our good friends over at Manchester United. In case you missed it, Wigan chairman Dave Whelan this week suggested that United are the driving force behind a push for tighter financial controls in the Premier League and was even quoted as saying “I think Manchester City have shaken them up a little bit” which I thought was a terrible pun even by his standards.

The thing is, I’m yet to be entirely convinced by any of the reasons given for the need for Financial Fair Play either in the Premier League or the whole of Europe and you do get the sense that certain people in positions of power are pursuing something of a vendetta against City whilst looking after their own interests at the same time. I’m under no illusions that our recent success is mostly a result of huge financial investment, but City needed such a big jump start in order to put the club in a position to compete both on the pitch and financially with the elite clubs who’ve had a twenty year head start. Having won the Premier League and qualified for the Champions League, City are naturally on their way to being able to generate the kind of revenue necessary to establish themselves as one of the world’s top clubs. The proposed regulations are supposedly designed to create a more level playing field but they’re basically preventing another mid-level club from ever being able to “do a City” and threaten the status quo again. The rules are supposed to protect the competitive nature of the sport, but what could be more anti-competition than creating an even bigger gulf between the peasants and football’s aristocracy?

On the flipside, if clubs must “spend within their means” in order to prevent themselves getting up to their necks in shit like Portsmouth then City are surely one of the least likely clubs to find themselves in that kind of predicament given the deep reserves of cash available. After all, are the means of Sheikh Mansour not also the means of Manchester City? And which of these clubs is in more danger: that which is free of debt and extremely wealthy despite its modest income, or that which turns a healthy profit every year but is up to its eyeballs in debt to the tune of £550 million thanks to its belligerent benefactors. I’ll leave you to ponder that one.

Thankfully, real football is back next Saturday at the traditional time of 3pm as City travel to the picturesque city of Stoke-on-Trent for a meeting with the local rugby team who’ve just signed Michael Owen, a man who could only be more opaque if he were a silhouette.

You know what’s going to happen now, don’t you?

Dan Burke

One down, 37 to go

It may have only just begun but I think you’ll agree it’s already been a pretty crazy season in the Barclay’s Premier League!

A quick scan of the league table tells its own story. At the top, free-scorers Fulham and Swansea are duking it out for the title while West Brom find themselves in a strong position to bag a Champions League place come the end of the season. Meanwhile, down at the bottom and Liverpool and Manchester United are in crisis as two giant clubs flounder in and around the relegation zone. The shadow of the guillotine hangs provocatively over Liverpool’s straight-shooting middle-manager Brendan Rodgers while United’s big money acquisition of Robin Van Persie has so far been an unmitigated disaster, the grey-haired Dutch philanderer spending most of his time picking splinters out of his arse on the bench without a single goal to his name for his new club.

I am, of course, being entirely facetious but the above is fairly akin to the sort of knee-jerk, reactionary bullshit which tends to permeate the football world around this time of year. If a new manager hasn’t gotten his team off to a flyer on the first weekend of the season then it’s surely only a matter of time before he finds himself out of a job, while new signings are seemingly branded expensive flops if they haven’t scored a double hat-trick on their debut. It can therefore only be assumed that many football fans and writers are either senseless morons or there’s something about this sticky weather that temporarily warps people’s heads.

Thankfully, City fans are unlikely to adopt the same kind of fuckwittery at this stage of the season this time around. Having delivered the club’s first league title in 44 years last time out, manager Roberto Mancini practically walks on water for most of us and we’ll probably have to wait at least until he loses two games on the bounce somewhere around the busy Christmas period before the press file their annual report of disharmony in the camp. It probably has a lot to do with the fact that City have kept most of last year’s title winning squad together over the summer and even more to do the fact that this season began in exactly the same way as the last one ended, only with fewer grown men weeping on their knees at the end.

It is quite spooky how similar the QPR and Southampton games were though. On both occasions, City were expected to win comfortably and led by a goal at the break only to have their nonchalant start to the second half torn wide open thanks to two gobsmacking goals from their plucky opponents following a combination of poor defending from us and quick counter-attacking by them. Edin Dzeko once again scored his trademark equaliser before the Blues once again managed to grab a dramatic late winner (although Samir Nasri’s strike on Sunday wasn’t nearly as dramatic or late as the Sergio Aguero goal which preceded it). It may well just be a case of history repeating itself but you almost get the feeling that the whole thing was planned for the benefit of Sky TV(“I swear you’ll never see anything like this ever again” sounds a bit daft now, doesn’t it?). An erstwhile non-football supporting acquaintance of mine once bored me with his conspiracy theory that everything that happens in the Premier League nowadays is a complete set-up making it more and more like WWE every year. I’d be lying if I said I couldn’t see where he was coming from at the moment.

On a more serious note, I do hope we’ve learned our lesson at the second time of asking. Although results at the end and the beginning of the season often only provide minor snapshots of the bigger picture, the fact that City have scraped 3-2 wins in their last two competitive games (three if you count the Community Shield) against inferior opposition shouldn’t be overlooked. Perhaps Mancini has finally had enough of everyone slagging him off for his boring, negative tactics and will instead throw caution to the wind this season with a cavalier “it-doesn’t-matter-how-many-you-score-we’ll-just-score-more” approach to matches. Either that or he’s been given a DVD of the Kevin Keegan promotion season in 01/02 and thinks it looked like a good laugh. Roberto, if you’re reading this, I preferred it last season when we were “boring” and breezed past teams by a comfortable four or five goals, so let’s have some more of that please.

Daniele De Rossi, the one that got away

Thankfully, it won’t be long until the transfer window slams shut again and we can all switch our attentions back to the situation in Syria or something of equal importance instead of scouring the back pages for the latest yield of the Rumour Mill (or “Bollocks Factory” to give it a more deserving moniker). For City, the slightly underwhelming signing of Scott Sinclair from Swansea appears to be a mere formality away but HRH Sheikh Mansour still doesn’t seem to be any closer to really getting his wallet out, meaning it’s unlikely the club will have made any significant improvements to the squad before the 1^st of September. Whether that proves to be a mistake remains to be seen and there’s a lot to be said for building a team around a nucleus of stability, but one failed transfer that admittedly did disappoint me somewhat was that of the bloke with a girl’s name who looks like he buys his shirts from the same place as the much loved late TV prankster Jeremy Beadle, Daniele De Rossi. In case you missed it, De Rossi toyed with our emotions this week by calling a Hugh Abbott style press conference in which he announced that he (drum roll...) wouldn’t be leaving Roma anytime soon. Why he felt the need to gather the nation’s press for such a pointless announcement is a mystery but at least we now know that the Italian midfield mentalist won’t be donning a sky blue shirt this season after all. Get yourself on Twitter Dani lad, it’s much more convenient.

If, like me, you’ve spent most of the summer telling anyone who’ll listen that Kun Aguero is about to blossom into one of the greatest forwards the game’s ever seen then you’ll have been delighted to hear that the worrying knee injury sustained in the first few minutes of the Southampton game isn’t nearly as bad as first feared. Thankfully, the Argentine dreamboat is expected to be back in action after the international break in a few weeks time meaning we can all breathe a huge sigh of relief. I can’t tell you what went through my mind when he went down clutching his knee in the 7^th minute on Sunday but “having kittens” would be the understatement of the millennium. In Joe Hart, Vincent Kompany and Yaya Toure we have a strong spine of a team, but if you ask me, a long term injury to any of them would be a much easier pill to swallow than if it happened to Sergio. Make no mistake, the guy is going to be crucial to everything we do this year and I pray he stays fit and doesn’t give us anymore scares like last Sunday.

So, with one game down and three points on the board we travel to Anfield at the weekend, a ground which has been a mostly unhappy hunting ground for as long as I can remember for City. Brendan Rodgers started life as Liverpool’s manager in a similarly comical fashion to his predecessors with a 3-0 defeat to West Brom last weekend but you’d expect them to come out fighting in their first home game of the season and will no doubt provide a tough early season test for Mancini’s men. As last season proved, every single point on the quest for title glory is a valuable one but that doesn’t mean we should get too carried away if results don’t go our way during the league’s embryonic stage.

I’m not a betting man by any stretch of the imagination, but I’m still willing to wager that (hilarious though it’d be) neither Liverpool nor United will be embroiled in a relegation battle this season, nor will Swansea or Fulham win the title. Call it a hunch.

Dan Burke

The title defence starts here

It’s been three long, cold, barren months since the thrilling conclusion of the last campaign but this weekend, finally, football is back!

We’ve had a summer (in the loosest sense of the word) packed wall-to-wall with sporting drama and achievement but throughout which I’ve found myself constantly pining for the bread and butter of club football, my one true love. I detest the summer months, I really do, and the start of the new Premier League season can’t come soon enough as far as I’m concerned.

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed the Olympics much more than I thought I would (I didn’t think I’d enjoy them at all) but I’m extremely monogamous when it comes to sport and my relationship with anything other than football extends no further than the occasional mild flirtation when all’s said and done.

You see, my sporting calendar runs strictly from August to May and anything outside of that is no more than an unwelcome distraction. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the hard work and skill it takes to be the best at sprinting, or gymnastics, or cycling (or even f*cking dressage!) but I’m simply unable to replicate the tribal connection I seem to have always had with football and no amount of post-Olympic hysteria is going to change that.

The English football season in full bloom is a supremely interesting and engaging phenomenon and 2012/2013 for Manchester City promises nothing less. The wonders of last season are now a thing of the past and City, as reigning champions, will be expected to mount a strong challenge for both domestic and European honours this time around. The bar has now been set and anything less than a major trophy or two will be deemed an abject failure from here on in. Reaching the top is tough, but staying up there will be City’s greatest challenge yet.

If there’s one thing that usually goes some way towards brightening up the mundane close season it’s the transfer window. Since the club’s takeover in 2009, the transfer window and all the bullshit and conjecture that goes with it has provided almost as much entertainment as the football itself to City fans. This summer began with the promise of more stellar names but has so far only yielded the slightly underwhelming signing of the promising but injury-plagued Jack Rodwell for £15 million (a virtual free transfer by our standards) from Everton.

City have assembled a very talented and dependable squad at great expense over the past few years and there was naturally always going to be a time when the big spending would need to be reined in with the transfer policy instead focused on minor tweaks here and there. That time appears to have come this summer and it seems those responsible for player acquisition at the club must also be mindful of UEFA’s proposed Financial Fair Play regulations due to the relatively quiet and humble nature of our business dealings this window.

The lack of summer transfer activity may have been a slight source of frustration for the fans but the person at the club with perhaps the biggest grievance appears to be Roberto Mancini, who voiced his discontent by publicly criticising Brian Marwood, the club’s football administrator, in a press conference ahead of last Sunday’s Community Shield. Although Mancini may well feel he’s entitled to bitch and moan on the subject, surely even he must acknowledge that he’s already been furnished with one of the finest and most bloated groups of players in world football and simply cannot continue spending big money on new signings until some of the deadwood (I’m looking at you Roque) has been moved on. I hate to break it to you Bob, but you can’t always get what you want.

If City have had a quiet summer, the same cannot be said of their direct competitors in the Premier League who all appear to have made significant improvements to their squads in an attempt to challenge Mancini’s men for the title this time around. Chelsea’s signing of Eden Hazard from Lille early in the window was a huge statement of intent while Manchester United’s purchase of Robin Van Persie (which at the time of writing is imminent) will undoubtedly be regarded as something of a game changer as the new season looms large. Even Arsene Wenger has dipped into the transfer market this year meaning City are effectively the only one of the title contenders who could be accused of standing still when the smart move might be continual forward motion. If nothing else, it’s nice that for once a summer appears to have slipped by without City and everyone associated with the club being blamed for the ruination of football as we know it, although even the acquisition of a young, English player with a questionable injury record at a reasonably low fee has drawn derision from certain sections of the football world. Ever get the feeling you simply can’t win?

If proof were needed that City’s squad as it currently stands is more than capable of challenging for honours in the coming season then it came last Sunday when the club lifted its first Community Shield in 40 years following the 3-2 defeat of Chelsea at Villa Park. Although the win wasn’t exactly the “footballing lesson” City found themselves on the receiving end of in last year’s Community Shield, it was still an extremely encouraging performance with the Blues looking a cut above their opponents from first whistle to last. It would of course be foolishly pre-emptive to judge a team based on one showpiece friendly against a side who played over half of the game with 10-men but City’s display was as bombastic as one could hope for last week and we can only hope they are able to reproduce that kind of form in the opening weeks of the season.

An oft used cliché in football refers to a player who, for whatever reason, has had a long absence from his team and is therefore “like a new signing” when he finally returns. Although Carlos Tevez made his official comeback from his 6-month golfing sojourn at the back end of last season when his goals and performances gave City a much needed edge in the final push for the title, it’s not unfair to suggest that he was expectedly ring rusty and ungainly during that period. While most of us expected Tevez to finally depart for sunnier climes this summer, he has in fact done the complete opposite and regained his sharpness and focus at the perfect time for himself and the club. ‘El Apache’ looked well and truly back to his best in the Community Shield and will have a major part to play this season if he can keep his mouth shut and concentrate on what he does best.

City begin their quest to regain the Premier League title on Sunday as they entertain (hopefully a ridiculous word when used in this context) newly promoted Southampton at the Etihad Stadium and will be expected to hit the ground running with a thumping home win. It’ll be interesting to see how the Blues line up in the first game following Mancini’s apparently successful trial of a new 3-5-2 formation for much of pre-season though even that feels like more of the natural evolution of this team than a tactical revolution (A-Ha!). Anything less than three points in the opening game of the season will be considered nothing short of disastrous but it would be extremely foolish to take the Saints lightly and you expect City will have to be at their best to avoid an upset.

With the dust of the Olympic Games still settling you could be forgiven for believing that there is something of an agenda of antipathy towards our national game in the media at the moment, especially if you happen to pay any heed to The Sun’s Rob ‘Beastly’ Beasley (which I don’t). Make no mistake though, football is alive and well and this writer couldn’t be happier.

The time for talk is almost over, the title defence starts here. Come on City!

This Is How It Feels

I’d say it was sometime around 4:40pm on Sunday the 13^th of May this year when I found myself staring into the abyss.

I could only watch from my seat in the South Stand at the Etihad Stadium as my dearly beloved Manchester City trailed 2-1 to 10-man Queens Park Rangers with just five minutes of normal time remaining on the final day of the Premier League season. It was a match that had meant everything to us, and it wasn’t supposed to be this way.

Only an hour earlier, the thousands of people around me had been a colourful sea of excitement and anticipation, but when I looked up at twenty to five I saw dejection, anger and disappointment. Some of them cried and some of them upped and left. Like most of them, I stayed and watched as the dream of a first league title in 44 years drifted further and further away.

I won’t lie, I wanted to leave, I really did. City had been chasing the game for a good twenty minutes by this stage but hadn’t even looked like scoring one goal, never mind the two they’d need to win the title. I don’t know if it was a misplaced pass or yet another unchallenged header back to the half way line by a QPR defender that clinched it for me, but I’m ashamed to admit I gave up and just couldn’t bear to watch any longer.

I thought about heading for the exit but I felt too nauseous to move. I also knew my mum, who was sitting beside me, simply wouldn’t allow it. A million thoughts raced through my mind as I held my head in my hands and fought back tears.  I thought of everything this godforsaken club had put me through during my years of support and devotion. I recalled the occasional highs but mostly the interminable lows, and how they all paled into insignificance when compared with this, the almightiest of cock-ups, playing out before my very eyes. The phrase “typical City” had never felt as apt as it did right then.

I also thought of United, who I’d rightly assumed were still leading at Sunderland and moments away from pipping us to the title on a day when even they’d admitted it was beyond them. I conjured up the cruellest and most vile of images; Ferguson and Rooney dancing in celebration on the pitch as they held the trophy aloft, the back pages of the newspapers the following day, and the horrible rats who would no doubt emerge from the sewer to laugh, chastise and gloat on my way home. It was a day that had promised so much but which I knew would take me months, maybe even years, to recover from if it ended like this.

As the fourth official raised his electronic board to signal five minutes of added time, I thought of something else. I thought of the Division Two Play-Off Final at Wembley in 1999 and the two dramatic goals in five minutes of extra time that day that had so enchanted my 11-year-old self and condemned me to this life of City addiction. I remembered how I’d begged my dad to stay and watch when a much lesser City team had gone 2-0 down to Gillingham, and how what had seemed like childish naivety had paid off when he’d cried on my shoulder not long afterwards. It was a comforting thought, but it did little to ease my despair in that moment.

That was until, right on cue, the latter day Kevin Horlock (played by Edin Dzeko) popped up and scored a goal which would have been scant consolation had the game finished 2-2 but gave City a beaming glimmer of hope. My body was still paralysed with grief but in my head I began to dream again. The thousands of people around me came back to life, their spirits resurrected.

What happened in the ensuing few minutes cannot be described in mere words, and I should know. On several occasions over the past three months I’ve attempted to find a way to articulate the plethora of emotions I experienced that day and every time I have failed. There are probably few people left on the planet who aren’t familiar with the moment I’m referring to, but with 93 minutes on the clock Sergio Aguero had played a tight one-two with Mario Balotelli and glided into the penalty area beyond the futile flailing legs of half a dozen QPR defenders before slamming the ball into the back of the net to win the Premier League with the last kick of the season. Words like “ecstasy” and “exhilaration” are all well and good, but they do it a disservice and seem inane and dispassionate when I think of how I actually felt.

That goal, much like Paul Dickov’s in 1999, was on a par with nothing else I have ever experienced in my life. I am passionate about many things, but never have I exhibited such an explosion of joy as I did in that moment, never have I shouted, cried and laughed simultaneously and never have I completely lost myself as I did right then. The unenlightened will find it ridiculous, but it’s testament that in the aftermath of what will rightly be remembered as the finest end to a Premier League season in history, the impact of City’s glory on all kinds of people was totally apparent as the YouTube videos and tributes flooded in from across the globe. It may have taken millions of pounds worth of “oil money” to achieve, but the manner in which City became Champions on that beautiful sunny day in Manchester was incomprehensibly awe inspiring, and everyone agrees.

A lot of demons were banished that day and it will live long in the memory of everyone who was alive to witness it. We've already been told that we'll never see anything like it ever again, and maybe that's true, but the future is unwritten and I can only hope that I will once again feel the way I did on the 13th of May.

This is how it feels to be City.

One Step Closer To Heaven

Any minute now I’m gonna wake up. I’m gonna wake up, rub the sleep out of my eyes and realise it’s still 2007 and the last five years have all been a wonderful dream. I’m gonna wake up and Stuart Pearce will still be City manager, we’ll still have a hopeless team and no money, and Danny Mills will be on the verge of signing a new 5-year contract.

As ridiculous as that sounds, I can’t help but feel as though everything’s just a bit too good to be true at the moment and it really wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest should City do what they do best next Sunday and bring us crashing back down to earth with a sickening thud.

I guess it’s just the rampant pessimist in me talking, an unfortunate character trait developed almost entirely as a result of my connection to this Godforsaken club over the years and one that will probably never leave me. I’ve become so accustomed to misery and frustration that I’m now able to automatically man the emotional barricades in preparation for the worst case scenario. I expect little from this club and thus, I’m rarely disappointed.

But I should have plenty of reasons to be optimistic and confident in the ability of this City side. Last Sunday’s visit to Newcastle was undoubtedly one of the biggest games of the season and arguably one of the biggest games in the club’s history, yet City won 2-0 with a consummate ease and professionalism virtually unknown to an entire generation of Blues.

It was, as expected, a tense and nervous affair with much at stake for both sides and for an hour there was little to separate them. But then, with 62 minutes on the clock, came the magic moment and one which should probably be reason enough for Roberto Mancini to go down in City folklore as one of the club’s greatest ever tactical masterminds. Off came Samir Nasri and on came Nigel de Jong, an oft-used move which unleashed the unrelenting force of Yaya Toure on Newcastle’s defence like a horny sailor on shore leave.

Within 10 minutes the Ivorian behemoth had shot his load with a beautiful 20-yard curling effort past Magpies’ goalkeeper Tim Krul, sending the travelling City fans and those watching at home into raptures. And then, with a few minutes of a hard fought contest remaining, a swift City counter attack ended with the ball at Yaya’s feet on the edge of Newcastle’s six-yard box and he coolly slotted home his second of the afternoon, moving the Blues one step closer to a first league title in 44 long, cold, hard years.

There’s an endless list of superlatives which could be used to describe City’s number 42 and I’ll never forget the awe inspiring moment in which I first truly experienced the amazing physical specimen that is Gnegneri Yaya Toure.

It was away at Sunderland last season, a game in which City rather typically snatched defeat from the jaws of victory by going down 1-0 thanks to a Darren Bent penalty in the last minute of added time. The moment I’m referring to came early in the first half. A Sunderland corner was cleared to somewhere around the middle of City’s half of the pitch and both Yaya and Lee Cattermole went off in pursuit of the loose ball. Despite his opponent having at least a 10-yard head start, a superhuman burst of pace and power enabled Yaya to reach the ball first and carry on down the field like a runaway train, leaving Lee ‘Clatter-em-all’ flailing in the distance. Yaya’s run would take him the full length of the pitch and into the Sunderland penalty area where he unselfishly squared the ball to Carlos Tevez who...well, the less said about that the better.

Yaya’s part in that move was amazing to watch and I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say that I’d never seen anything like it or anyone like him before, certainly not in the Premier League anyway.

Pretty astonishing considering we’d been told the player we were signing two summers ago was an overpaid, overrated, crab-like defensive midfield mercenary, and it was only the first of many breathtaking demonstrations of Yaya’s ability in a City shirt since then. The man is a bona fide lethal weapon and seems to possess an unprecedented and unmatched combination of power and supreme skill with the ball at his feet. He may not be regarded as the best player in the world at the moment, but I honestly don’t think I’d swap him for anyone such is his importance to this team.

For many City fans, the greatest feeling associated with the glory of winning the title this season will be sweet vindication. Since the club’s takeover in 2008, critics and detractors from the press, the public and the game itself have gleefully formed a disorderly queue to throw huge quantities of bile and shit at City’s good name for a number of reasons, some justified, some not. It’s delightful to think that many of those haters and naysayers could be wolfing down a nice big slice of humble pie at 5pm next Sunday if all goes to plan.

The man who has possibly had to bear the brunt of much of that criticism since his arrival at the club is the aforementioned Yaya Toure, thanks largely to the widely reported yet completely unqualified estimate of the size of his wage packet (between £200K and £300K a week depending which tabloid newspaper you buy to wipe your arse with). It's satisfying then, to think that Yaya has resoundingly answered his critics and played a crucial part in the club’s transformation over the past couple of seasons. Last year his winning goal at Wembley in the FA Cup Semi-Final delivered the first in a series of fight back slaps to our perennial school bullies United, and it was fitting that he was also the scorer of the goal which ended City’s 35-year trophy drought on the same ground a few weeks later. One year on and we find ourselves on the precipice of greatness again thanks to the goals of that man. If anyone has been worth their exorbitant salary, it’s Yaya.

And if he scores the goal that wins City the game and the title against QPR next Sunday I’ll be fronting a passionate campaign to have a Yaya Touré statue erected in Piccadilly Gardens (in place of the Sir Robert Peel one. What’s he ever done for Manchester anyway?) because it’s the least he’ll deserve in my eyes.

Next Sunday’s game against QPR presents one final test on the road to title glory and it’s one that City will be expected to pass. It’s a fixture which shouldn’t be taken lightly, however, against an opposition potentially in need of a result to ensure their Premier League status again next season (unless Bolton don’t win at Stoke, in which case QPR will be safe even if they lose). The away side are likely to field a team containing more than one ex-City player with a point to prove backed by a manager who (if you listen to Sir Alex Ferguson, which I don’t) was “unethically” relieved from his position as City manager a couple of years ago (he spent millions of pounds and drew seven games in succession. He deserved to be sacked. Case...fucking...closed.) and will supposedly therefore be out for revenge.

It won’t be an easy game for City but if they manage to win or at least match second-placed United’s result away at Sunderland they should have done enough to be crowned champions at the close of play. All things considered, it’s been a pretty crazy season and I’m praying to God that we don’t see another twist of fate on the final day. I have noticed, however, that William Hill are offering odds of 500/1 on United to win 10-0 at Sunderland, which when you consider that Wes ‘OG’ Brown and several other United alumni will be lining up for the opposition on Sunday, is probably worth a few quid of anyone’s money. 

I suppose that’s just my way of insuring myself against possible heartbreak though...isn’t it?

We Hate It When Our Friends Become Successful

It was a game that was rightfully billed as “the biggest Manchester derby of all time” and a certain sports news network even went so far as to call it “the biggest game in the history of the Premier League”. 

And with somewhere between 400 and 650 million worldwide viewers reportedly tuning for Monday’s table topping clash between City and United, they might’ve had a point.

It was quite typical then, that in terms of entertainment value, the game itself flattered to deceive somewhat. It was a fast paced yet cagey affair between two very evenly matched groups of players with everything at stake. For City, however, there was absolutely nothing anti-climactic about the result.

A solitary Vincent Kompany headed goal on the stroke of half time was enough to decide a tense encounter and the improbable dream of just a few short weeks ago is now being realised before our very eyes. City, eight points adrift of United not long ago, somehow find themselves back at the top of the league on goal difference with just two games remaining and the title is undoubtedly ours to lose again.

But if City’s dream of winning the Premier League title felt improbable a few weeks ago, it was nothing compared to the seeming impossibility of the task in years past.

Should the Blues go on to lift the coveted trophy on the 13^th of May, the “the biggest game in the history of the Premier League” will correctly be remembered as one of the most momentous occasions in this club’s history too. And as the final whistle sounded and the Etihad Stadium erupted on Monday night, there was something very ethereal about it all. It wasn’t that long ago that the idea of conquering United, our most fierce and bitter rivals, to potentially win the league title seemed like an inconceivable fantasy for City fans. The dream is now becoming a reality.

Despite what Gabrielle would have us believe, in life, it's extremely rare that dreams come true. Most people are willing to accept that our time on this earth cannot always fulfil our greatest hopes and ambitions and sometimes you should just be thankful for what you’ve got. Other people are more optimistic about their potential in life and very occasionally their faith and hard work is rewarded.

One of the most wonderful things about football however, is that it’s a game which can provide those life-affirming moments and often does. Indeed, many supporters subconsciously go so far as to use the glory of their team as compensation for the general disappointment which accompanies their personal lives.

In my experience, City fans have always genetically been an expectant yet humble lot. We maintained our faith and devotion throughout the darkest of times but never lost sight of our ambitions for our team. To the realists amongst us, however, the extent of those ambitions stretched no further than the occasional Carling Cup run or a place in the top six come the end of the season. The idea that we would one day see our team win the Premier League or the Champions League was hardly even worth contemplating such was the extreme unlikelihood of fulfilment. 

But here we are, on the brink of that dream and make no mistake, we know exactly how we got here and how lucky we are. The impossible has been made possible by the significant investment of Sheikh Mansour and the Abu Dhabi United Group and for that we are eternally grateful.

Many detractors continue to suggest that there is a hollowness surrounding anything City achieve, that our alleged “purchase” of success (which, ironically, was the very thing we were repeatedly told we couldn’t buy a couple of years ago) is unfair and unjust. Football is often a breeding ground for mis-placed self-righteousness and I hate to say this, but these are opinions steeped in bitterness and jealousy and reek of hypocrisy, because there’s not a single football fan in the land who wouldn’t want what City fans have for their club.

Two excellent pieces regarding City’s spending by Sam Wallace in The Independent and Martin Samuel in the Daily Mail this week both perfectly summarised City’s journey from mediocrity to potential title winners and I’d urge you to read them. Something tells me those with a grudge to bear, particularly our friends in the Red half of Manchester, will choose to ignore them, however. After all, why let the facts get in the way of a good argument?

I’d like to think those capable of handling the truth will come to realise that though City’s almost incomparable financial strength has enabled them to become the force they are today, they certainly weren’t the first and won’t be the last football club to achieve success in this way. Despite the continual Pravda-like perpetuation of the myth that Manchester United’s sustained success has been achieved by pure hard work and definitely not any of that “dirty money”, a brief trawl through their own club’s history would teach a few people a thing or two and perhaps lay to rest some of that mis-guided sense of entitlement. If there’s one thing I’ve observed though, it’s that it’s rare you find a group of people so capable of collective amnesia as United fans, so I won’t be holding my breath.

It’s been a beautifully surreal few weeks to be a City fan but it’s not over yet. Newcastle away at the weekend presents a significant obstacle en route to title glory and we must be at our best to overcome it. We have nothing to celebrate yet, but we’re edging ever closer.

As supporters, we’ve endured an awful lot of shit over the years and we’ll enjoy our day in the sun, whatever anyone says. The world will be better for this...that one man scorned and covered with scars...still strove with his last ounce of courage...to reach the unreachable star.

Come on City!

Don't Stop Believin'

"Some will win, some will lose, some were born to sing the blues. Oh, the movie never ends. It goes on, and on, and on..."

Earlier this month I launched this blog with a depressing lament. United had just won away at Blackburn sending them five points clear at the top of the table and City’s title hopes appeared to be entering the death throes.

A week later and things went from bad to worse. United’s win at home to QPR and City’s subsequent defeat at Arsenal gave the Reds a seemingly unassailable eight point lead at the top. Of course, there were still six games remaining at this point but United looked annoyingly confident and resolute and showed absolutely no signs of a forthcoming capitulation. It was over, and I was prepared to accept it.

But three weeks is a long time in football and it is quite unbelievable to think that City now find themselves just three games and three wins away from lifting the Premier League trophy when the season draws to a close on the 13^th of May.

The past few weeks have proved two things; that when it comes to title races, it’s much easier to be a chaser than a leader, and that you should never say never...ever.

If you’d told me a few weeks ago that we’d find ourselves in this situation with three games to go I’d have laughed in your face and probably had you sectioned under the Mental Health Act. But football is an unpredictable beast and City’s status as the perennial enigma means I shouldn’t be surprised.

The most surprising thing has perhaps been the way United have dealt with the pressure of being at the top. We were lead to believe that they had too much nous and experience to let City back into the title race once they streaked into the lead, but defeat at Wigan and the frankly pathetic surrender of a two-goal lead in the last 10 minutes to draw 4-4 at home to Everton at the weekend suggests otherwise.

I won’t even attempt to pinpoint where it’s all gone wrong for United in recent weeks, but one can only assume that they started to believe their own hype and let complacency creep into their game. If that is the case then it can only be described as a monumental error and one that will hopefully result in failure for them come the end of the season.

City, meanwhile, have been an absolute joy to watch of late and you almost get the sense that falling so far behind at this stage of the season was the best thing that could’ve happened to us. Without the proverbial Sword of Damocles constantly hanging over them, the players have emerged reinvigorated and the 6-1 drubbing of Norwich in particular was delightfully reminiscent of the City of a few months ago.

Next Monday, City take on United at the Etihad in what is being labelled the “biggest derby ever” and promises to be an extremely tense and nerve wracking affair. Whether Blue or Red, you’d have to be a certified psychopath to derive any enjoyment from a game like this and I’ll be glad when it’s over, whatever the result.

Having said that, I’m happy that this fixture will have the significance it deserves as it looked for a little while as though it’d simply be a meaningless obstacle en route to a demoralising end to the season for City. It now has the potential to be either a magical night in the club’s history or a living nightmare, and I’ll be amazed if I survive it without having a nervous breakdown of some sort. It was easier when we were shit, that’s a fact.

One of the most satisfying aspects of the past few days has been the apparent hibernation of the many United fans who have recently clogged up my Facebook news feed and Twitter timeline with their taunts, inane jokes and poorly Photoshopped pictures of Melbourne’s Etihad Stadium on fire. These people have set themselves up to look extremely silly should City go on to win the league this year and I expect it may well be a blow from which many of them will never recover.

If there’s one thing I’ve learnt from my career as a football supporter it’s that it’s always best to keep your powder dry and your emotions in check until you can be absolutely sure that your jibes won’t come back to haunt you. It is for this reason that I won’t be making any predictions between now and the end of the season, except that the team with the most points or the best goal difference at 5pm on the 13^th of May will win the league. What happens between now and then is a mystery and all we can do as fans is buckle up and enjoy the ride.

Remarkably, the most beautiful of victories is within our grasp again. Come on City, let’s fuckin’ ‘ave it!