phew

Marriage, divorce, bereavement and moving house are supposed to be the most stressful life experiences but I can tell you that watching Spurs last night was more stressful than at least one of those (though maybe I speak too soon). In my usual glass half empty way of thinking I thought that today would be all doom and gloom with City fans popping out of the woodwork and closet Tories secretly smirking to themselves about their likely victory. Suffice to say that I was half wrong (so I reckon that makes my glass 3/4 empty) and a crushing BNP failure and hung parliament may have it close to the top. For those City fans who are inconsolable I am happy to share this story of hope that has backfired miserably. There's always someone who has it worse than you (unless you are actually Kirk Bradley). Sometimes it is wise to see an empty glass.

From Manchester Evening News Aug 17 2009

"OPTIMISTIC Blue Kirk Bradley is so sure of Manchester City's success next season that he's had a tattoo announcing them as Champions League Winners for 2011.
The Premier League season is barely underway but already the 25-year-old is so confident that not only will his team qualify for the Champions League this time round but that they will win it at their first attempt next year. So football-mad Kirk decided to have 'Manchester City 2011 Champions League Winners' permanently tattooed on to his body - even though they only finished 10th last year. And although he admits his prediction is somewhat premature Kirk thinks it's an entirely realistic expectation for big-spending City - who have splashed out £100m on new players this summer. "

champagne superwa***r

I still haven't worked out whether I want us to get the Europa League spot. On the one hand it'd be an amazing way to mark then end of Harry Redknapp's first season, especially after the first 8 games under Ramos. On the other, it'd be good not to get embroiled in the mess that is the poor cousin to the notoriously misnamed Champions' League. Either way it's probably academic as Fulham are on a roll and play the toffees who'll no doubt have one (collective) eye on the FA Cup and we play Liverpool who have nothing but frustration to keep them occupied after losing out to Man United.

The blue half of Manchester was at White Hart Lane on Saturday and I was glad it wasn't a decent team. The 2-1 scoreline was about right and, although Keane and Pav were like those uncoordinated people you get at half time who have won a competition that allows them to try to score but they can't because they're pants, a few players put in a decent shift.

From the back of the Paxton we couldn't work out who was on the end of some barracking from Park Lane and Shelf but this (from the Mirror) explained all:

Oasis' Liam Gallagher laid into Tottenham Hotspur supporters at White Hart Lane on Saturday (May 16), as the team played his beloved Manchester City.Spurs fans infuriated the Oasis singer by chanting "You're just a shit Chas & Dave" at him early on in the match. In response Gallagher, who was watching the game from an executive box alongside his elder brother Paul, taunted the home supporters by flicking his middle finger and V-signs at them, forcing the club's security step in and force him back to his seat.The Spurs fans had the last laugh though, beating Man City 2-1 on the day

I shall never drink Carling again!

Too many cliches occur and block my efforts to express the feelings and experience of Sunday's narrow defeat: roller coaster, passion & pride, sick as a parrot.

Suffice to say the boys done good and we're proud of them. Or to use Harry's exact words: 'I'm well pleased with the lads.'

This is all apart from:

a) Pav's free kick (nyet, nyet, I take, I am striker, look.... Chyort voz'mi! I hit big screen)
b) Bentley's penalty. He can put a ball in a skip from a hundred yards for a Rolex (see below) but can he hit a sodding barn door or Ben Foster from 12? The answer is no.

It was actually quite emotional. Most fans stayed to cheer the players when they went up for their medals (compare Chelski fans last year who were heading back to the Bridge before the final whistle blew) and there was none of the churlish 'I didn't care about this mickey mouse cup' attitude that I remember from '82 when Liverpool beat us. At the end of that game we sang 'Stick your milk cup up your arse'. It was a bigger trophy in those days too.

we've only got ten men

Eastlands is a bit cartoony. It's OK on the inside but outside it has all these spiral ramps and neon lights announcing 'MANCHESTER CITY' and looks like something a 9 year old boy would draw. You still get a feel for the wasteland I'm guessing it was built on as the car parks are rubble and the surrounding area is inhospitable to say the least. The unfinished feel is certainly reflected in the lack of thought that's gone into road and transport infrastructure and could even act as an analogy for Sven's team. Ten home victories on the trot did not bode well for the stuttering Spurs but it was like someone had slipped Juande a slip of paper (written in Spanish) which explained very clearly Sven's secret. Even after Zokora was (harshly I'm told) sent off Spurs controlled most of the game, albeit from a defensive position. Defoe's goal after 5 or 6 minutes shocked even the most optimistic Spurs supporter. In fact I had the most pessimistic supporter behind me. As the packed Spurs end gleefully taunted the City fans with 'We've only got ten men!' he was singing 'We've only got one goal' whilst tutting and shaking his head.

The passing movement when we did go on the offensive was startling and only impeded by something of a tendency to go one pass too many and by Steve Bennet's (the Ref) whistle blowing and poor decision making. The harsh sending off and a number of decisions that went against Spurs led to some pretty vitriolic anti-Bennet chants which accused him of being female genitalia and in the habit of playing on his home turf a lot. When he failed to award City what looked like a clear penalty in the second half the chants instantly became: " We love you Bennet, we do!" proving that Londoners have a fine sense of humour when they're winning.

Malbranque's goal around 8 minutes from time was the best. I got hugged by a lot of people. I didn't need reminding how important it all is but if I did, that emotional explosion would have done it.

I have to say that as I made my way back to the car park on the other side of the stadium, I began to regret some of the taunting chants and the bloody grin on my face (oh and the Spurs shirt and the clean and bright- and now officially lucky- bar scarf). It was OK though. I made it to the car just in time to sit in it for a full 90 minutes waiting for the traffic to get moving. It's funny how time works; those 90 minutes went much faster than the ones where we were waiting for the final whistle to blow.