Following reports of Manchester City's players, coaching staff, their financial backers and executives being united in their quest to end thirty-five years of hurt by pulling off a remarkable Quadruple this season, I thought it's about time I manned up, came clean and continued my New Year's resolution to be a little more honest and open on the internets regarding my personal eccentricities and interests.
The image of Emmanuel Adebayour in the replica Inter Milan Blackburn Rovers 1992-94 away jersey he got from Santa (Cruz), exchanging snoods and hair products with Carlos Tevez under the Yaya Toure Christmas tree and especially the sight of Roberto Mancini's wardrobe bursting open with silky azure and cream neck scarves (one for every day of every season, even summer) sent a shiver of excitement up and down my spine and then back up again and then made me start sweating profusely.
The hard-earned tipping point for me, was seeing City play with such exhilarating attacking flair, wildly entertaining abandon and having the courage and confidence to carve up and bone The Arsenal like a stale, leftover turkey in order to make it into coq au vin last night, while teaching Arsene Wenger the purest of culinary footballing lessons at the French Master's own Academy was a sight to behold (or would have been if I could have kept my eyes open). It turned on a light in my darkened satanic red soul, a sky blue moonbeam, and awakened in me a joyous epiphany of adoration I now wish to share with my friends and the rest of the world. With a breath of relief:
I am a Manchester City fan, through and through and always have been. I was born inManchesterStockport, I lived and worked inManchesterStockport for a few years and I even drove through Moss Side, once, quickly, but still managed to glimpse the famous old Maine Road ground, the one true home of football. I admit that I was just riding the Manchester United glory train, even if I got on board after the last English top division title stop and had to wait an entire lifetime for it to start moving again. But when it did finally get going, it was glorious. But now, as City have finally proved that they can run a train service every bit as evocative as United's, it's time for me to get off and rejoin my bitter brethren in anticipation and expectation of reaching the end of the line first.
To those who cynically say it's about the money - maybe it is, for the players and the rest of the Project staff. But for the real, true football fans of Manchester Stockport, it's all about the glory.
The late and newly stiff Garry Cock was unavailable for comment.