Over the blue moon
Reporter: Chris Lynham
Date published: 16 May 2011
MANCHESTER City fans invited Chronicle sports reporter and lifelong Blues follower Chris Lynham to join them for the trip from Oldham to Wembley. A memorable day saw Roberto Mancini’s men beat Stoke 1-0 in the FA Cup final. Here Chris talks us through his day.
4.30am: MY alarm was set for 5.30am but the magnitude of the occasion and the possibility of City ending a 35-year silverware drought meant a decent night’s sleep was nigh-on impossible . . . so up I get.
On goes my lucky bright yellow jersey from the 1999 play-off final, followed by a shirt and tie, which is a more acceptable look in the press box.
6am: Leaving the house. Ticket? Check. Wallet? Check. Jitters? Absolutely.
6.45am: Waiting for the group of lads who very kindly offered me a place on one of their two mini-buses after a chat on the phone in the days leading up to the match. While I stand talking to some other Blues awaiting their lifts, the rain starts to pour. A lot. Hope it’s not an omen.
6.55am: Andy Fulham, a quality chap who I had spoken to on the phone, arrives. “There’s been a bit of a change around Chris,” he said. “You’re on the other mini-bus now, so you won’t be travelling with me. Sorry about that, you won’t know any of that lot will you?”
“That’s alright Andy, I’ve only really known you for 17 seconds,” I replied.
7am: And we’re off! Quick picture and a Poznan, and then I introduce myself to the passengers of ‘mini-bus B’ and take my seat as we depart the old Roxy Cinema site in Failsworth. The atmosphere is buzzing and it seems every vehicle on the road has a blue-and-white scarf hanging out of its window.
Hope
My favourite two flags we pass both display Oasis lyrics: “Some might say we will find a brighter day” and “today’s the day that all the world will see”. Fingers crossed.
7.40am: I get chatting to 57-year-old Steve Todd from Royton, who was around in the days when City winning a cup wasn’t viewed as a paranormal occurrence, especially in the 1960s and ’70s. “I have always kept the faith, despite all the lean years,” said Steve. “As a City fan you always live in hope.”
His mate Dave Hurst (45), who was joined on the bus by 28-year-old son Brad, chipped in: “Steve is the biggest City fan I know. We went to the semi-final win against United last month and what an experience. We didn’t want to come out of the ground at the end.”
7.53am: Chatting to Dave paid off almost instantly. Not only is he a genuinely nice and interesting fella, he also took pity on my pale complexion and handed me a bacon butty.
7.54am: Butty consumed.
8.10am: As Dave compares tattoos with Colin Baglin (28), conversation inevitably turns to Craig Reed, who appeared in the Chronicle last week with the FA Cup scrawled permanently onto his back and “Manchester City, 2011 winners” underneath.
Rob Charlesworth (24) pipes up: “He’s clearly a big Blue, but doing that before we’ve won it? Why not just put ‘201’ and leave out the last number, at least that way he has got the rest of the decade!”
9.20am: First stop of the day, Warwick services. Second Poznan of the day — we couldn’t resist.
11.04am: Arrive at Wealdstone FC, a non-league outfit very kindly catering exclusively for City fans, as they did for the semi-final. I need to get to the press box fairly sharpish so we won’t be staying here long — but we’re coming back after the game for what will hopefully be a celebration.
11.15am: On foot now with Steve, Dave, Brad, Rob and his buddy Phil Walker, on the way to Ruislip tube station. “Oh my God our tickets,” says Rob to Phil.
11.20am: A very relieved and breathless Rob returns from Wealdstone and cradles the tickets like a mother would her new-born.
11.30am:On the tube heading to Wembley. Absolutely buzzing.
Noon: Arrive at the home of football. My first time here since that play-off final in 1999. Even the sun has come out.
12.13pm: Dave spots Athletic manager Paul Dickov — a guest of City at today’s game due in no small part to his heroics at Wembley 12 years ago in that match I keep banging on about — signing autographs and chatting with supporters. Get a few pictures of the Scot before rejoining my group.
12.30pm: Arrive at the Greyhound pub, a short walk from the stadium. Hundreds of people singing Blue Moon and the rest of the repertoire. By now the weather is nothing short of glorious. “This is what it’s all about,” said Brad who, like myself, has never seen City win a major trophy. “Could get used to this.”
1.35pm: Resisting the temptation to stay for the last hour, I head to the press entrance and into the snazzy media box overlooking the penalty area on the same side as the City fans.
Banana
One last check that the lads didn’t make good with their threat to write expletives on my back with chalk, and I join the assembled members of the written press.
3pm: The match is under way. Not been this nervous since, well, the semi-final a few weeks ago.
4.34pm: Pandemonium. Yaya Toure smashes the ball into the net to give City a 1-0 lead right in front of his fans. Thirty-five years of hurt could be washed away if Mancini’s men can hold their nerve for the next 19 minutes.
4.53pm: Bliss. Utter bliss. Referee Martin Atkinson blows the full-time whistle. City have won the FA Cup. I embrace the Norwegian journalist sat to my right before grabbing a few supporters for photographs.
5.05pm: Carlos Tevez holds aloft the cup. What a moment.
5.46pm: Bump into Colin and another fellow mini-bus passenger, John Nisbet, at the tube station. Colin has acquired an inflatable banana, which he converses with throughout the journey back to Ruislip.
6.09pm: Arrive back at Wealdstone and meet up with the rest of the gang, minus Rob and Phil. More mini-Poznans than you can shake a stick at. Off with the shirt and tie and on with the celebrations.
6.42pm: After more than half-an-hour of searching, John finds someone with cigars and lights up. “I haven’t smoked for years, but I think tonight is fair enough,” he says.
7.30pm: We board the mini-bus and head home. Or that was the plan until we realise Rob and Phil, quickly becoming the Chuckle Brothers of this experience, had been nowhere in sight since the match.
7.36pm: The second time today I’ve seen Rob gasping for breath and grasping for an explanation. “Got. Wrong. Tube,” he says, literally seconds before we were going to go without them. “It was his fault,” he adds, pointing at Phil, who strenuously denies this. Off we go.
8.40pm: Double Whopper meal at Burger King, Banbury services. Plenty of Blues around who look happy and drained in equal measure.
9pm: “Why is everyone so quiet? We’ve won the FA Cup!” said Colin (to his banana).
11.40pm: Back in Failsworth after an unforgettable day. A massive thank-you to all the lads I travelled with. Cheers boys!
