THE CLOTHES WE WEAR

The new Nike kit makes its inaugural appearance tonight, which immediately sends the mind racing away from that important report you have to prepare for work and back through all the MCFC shirts we've seen hanging off the shoulders of Kinkladze, Nellie Young, Andy Hinchliffe and Gelson Fernandes down the years. By and large we have been well served by the home kits, but what a rainbow nightmare the aways have been. As far as the goalkeeper outfits go, best not even go there.

For most of us, the memories of certain kits are tinged with images of great/appalling players wearing them, or unforgettable matches. In this way the potentially terrifying away kit of our season in Division Three just about gets away with it, whilst anything worn by Gerry Creaney or Bob Taylor immediately seems unforgivably wrong.

Which one of these beauties is the worst? Only two homes make it for me, both incorporating white sleeves, which is just not on. Maybe the red and black chequered kit of '86 should be here too, as we were relegated in it and it was accompanied by shorts so tight even Paul Stewart's flow of goals dried up, but it doesn't seem quite so bad all these years later. Others, however, are not helped by the passing of time:

Big Murtaz looks limp in yellow

Orange for Steven Ireland to go with his car upholstery

White sleeves for Joey Barton

Promotion pyjamas

Wanchope in perhaps the worst of the lot

How to spoil the iconic red + black stripes

Kit, colour, player. Ticks none of the boxes this one.

Not cool

Binman Bob commits white sleeve crime

  

200 WORDSWORTH #6 COLIN BELL

Number 6 in the series: 

COLIN BELL by Graham Ward

 

Colin Bell was the finest player I’ve seen; my first, and only, football hero.
 

It helped that, when I was a child, he lived in lodgings in the next street; this was before his marriage, and he had started his restaurant business, as players did in those days, for his retirement.
 

It was not unusual to see Bell walk to his business at night time, and to be acknowledged by us local kids; even in those days, all you received back was a muffled hello, as he moved swiftly on. It’s fair to say he didn’t like the limelight, and let his football do the talking.
 

You can compare Yaya Toure to Bell. Although their all round games are similar, Bell shades it, as his running game and stamina are superior, together with his ability in the air. I think he had a more powerful shot too; in the mid 1970s, his shot was timed at 61mph.
 

His manager, however, thought that City had a greater player….Peter Doherty, the star of our first champion side. Comparisons were always made between the two, and, indeed, Bell’s one time business partner was Paul Doherty, Peter’s son, which made a very neat link.

You can follow Graham on Twitter here https://twitter.com/exohms

+++

Others in the series:

#1 George Weah

#2 Alfons Groenendijk

#3 Jamie Pollock

#4 Tony Grealish 

#5 Marc Vivien Foé 

2 x ELEVEN

FA CUP WEEK RETROSPECTIVE 1981 -

Part 4 of the series looking back at the Centenary Cup Final: Comparing the sides

Joe Corrigan was voted man of the Final over the two matches in 1981, for a heroic display, particularly in the replay when City  ran out of steam anda rejuvenated Spurs ran through our defence with increasing ease. Corrigan stood up to everything and performed typically well, as we had come to expect from him. Joe Hart does not match Big Joe for bulk but is an agile shot stopper and, as England's national keeper, has leapfrogged the status Corrigan had as a player, at least on international terms, where Big Joe was frozen out by Shilton and Clemence, Ron Greenwood's blue eyed boys. At this stage of Hart's development, however, it could be said he lacks some of the finesse and experience that made Corrigan one of the best performers in a green shirt in the history of the club.

City's defence in 81 was made up of three youngsters and one old hand. Right back was Ray Ranson. Nothing like Pablo Zabaleta in terms of ferocity in the tackle, he excelled going forward and it was his cross from the flank that set up Tommy Hutchison for the opener in the first game. On the other side, where Gael Clichy's pace brings him into the attack with some regularity, Bobby McDonald's heavy build and chunky thighs left him struggling to get anywhere near the attack in time to make a meaningful difference. Where McDonald did excel was at attacking corners, where he would often be part of a near post routine, that saw him flick on for a team mate to finish or a smaller player such as Reeves or Boyer be stationed there and McDonald himself getting on the end of things. The craggy Scot was a regular scorer from set pieces.

The central pairing of Nicky Reid and Tommy Caton paired a young guard dog with a powerfully built left footer. Reid was more skilful, Caton the towering presence. At the time it was the youngest centre back partnership seen at a cup final, but they grew to compliment each other well, just as the tackling of swashbuckling captain Vincent Kompany and the deft left foot of Matija Nastasic does in today's side. As with this year's side, a more experienced central defender would just miss out. This year it is likely to be Joleon Lescott, whilst in 1981 old campaigner Tommy Booth also had sit out the final games of the cup run.

The midfield anchor role was occupied in 1981 by the inimitable Gerry Gow, a signing from Bristol City, who looked little like a footballer but played with a big heart and a willingness to tackle anything that moved. Gareth Barry carries out the Gow role in the modern day side, but his jockeying and harrying game bears little resemblance to the splat and thunder of the Gerry Gow experience. Alongside Gow, City could count on the impressive physique and explosive finishing of Steve Mackenzie, whose effort against the post at 1-0 in the initial game still gives those that were there absolute nightmares. He scored the best goal in FA Cup final history in the replay, a superb arcing, racing volley that has been largely forgotten amid the hysteria surrounding Villa's winning dribble. Mackenzie, built along the lines of a young Yaya Touré played a vital role in that season's revival. The rest of the midfield was made up of players who liked to push wide and forward. In today's side that honour will go to David Silva and, more than likely, Samir Nasri, In '81 Paul Power and Tommy Hutchison roamed the flanks to great effect. Power's excellent engine and eye for goal had got him a goal in every round up to the final, including the dramatic semi winner over Ipswich, whilst Hutchison, in the twilight of a long career, scored at both ends in the first game to cement his place in Cup Final folklore.   

Pushed slightly further forward, City had two athletic, slim-built attackers in the shape of David Bennett, the more successful of a pair of brothers who had come through the ranks at Maine Road, and Kevin Reeves, a big purchase from Norwich City. To compare them to Carlos Tevez and Sergio Aguero would be to say boiled ham is similar to barbecued Gaucho steaks. Manchester City in 1981 could not call on the stellar individuals that pack today's side. Whilst home grown Bennett and million pound man Reeves scored their share of the goals, the all-action, multi-faceted attack City possess today is streets ahead in ability

and technique. Reeves would put City ahead in the replay, after bennet had been caught in a Miller/Roberts sandwich, but it was too early and gave Spurs time to regroup and come again.

The shape and the composition of the two sides do not differ too greatly then. What has changed out of all proportion is the calibre of player occupying each position. Of the 1981 side, perhaps only goalkeeper Corrigan would be pushing for inclusion. What is not in question, however, is their place in the hearts of the City faithful. Their names roll off the tongues of the faithful 32 years since their big day as easily as the names of today's stars will in years to come. All have played their part in City's ongoing rich and varied history.  

A BAD DOSE OF MYXOMATOSIS

FA CUP WEEK RETROSPECTIVE 1981  

- Part 3 of this week's series looking back at the Centenary Cup Final. 

 
Graham Ward made it to every game along the way to City's participation in the 1981 Centenary Cup Final, including being at Wembley twice in five days. Here is account of what happened: 

I attended all of the matches in that 1981 cup run. My funniest recollection was from the Peterborough fifth round game at their place, but it was after the match not during. We were stood in the main stand paddock, after a bruising 1-0 win, Tommy Booth firing the winner 

from a corner, and the BBC cameras were on a temporary structure, just like at the old Bramall Lane.We'd parked in an open muddy field, and weren't quite sure where we were going, when somebody just set off, and everyone followed! It was like one of those old Westerns, when someone fires a starting gun, and I just got the giggles for 5 minutes.

As to the Final itself, me, Mum, and Dad went down. We could only manage standing tickets for the Saturday. My sister was then going steady with her now husband of 27 years.I was struck how deep the terracing seemed, and I was stood right in line with what would become the flight of the ball for Tommy Hutch's flying header, and Joe's position for the fateful free kick. Talk about time standing still with that one. Of course, if Steve Mackenzie had been able to toe poke the ball into the net after taking it round Aleskic in the Spurs goal, instead of hitting the outside of the post, how different would City's future have been? Sadly, we'll never know.

It's been stated before, and I think it's true, that our best chance came and went on that Saturday afternoon.

The day before the replay, I had a ticket for Bruce Springsteen's gig at the Ardwick Apollo, his first in the North, and his first British tour since 1975. It was originally scheduled for the February, but got re-arranged because of exhaustion, so it's not just footballers!I had a seat for the replay, but I was on my own, I can't remember why Mum and Dad couldn't go. I hitched a lift from fellow Blues from my cricket club, father, son, and daughter-in-law, the Garlicks. Sadly, dad Charlie and son John are no longer with us.

We drove down to Stanmore, then got the train to Wembley Central, if I remember correctly. It was a beautiful early Thursday evening, and it did seem a bit surreal to me. Spurs natural advantage of location meant that they out-numbered the City fans significantly.

I was sat at the end of an aisle, and my worst fears were realised when Spurs got that early goal, with a lucky rebound. Joe was unlucky, just as he had been on the Saturday, when it looked like the only way he would be be beaten would be by a deflection.Of course, Stevie Mac scored his superb equaliser, and, as per usual, you just grabbed the nearest person(s), and went quietly berserk for 30 seconds. We've always argued it was the best goal of the game, haven't we?

Dave Bennett got caught in that Spurs sandwich, and we all screamed penalty, which Kevin Reeves coolly scored. I think then it was really one way traffic after that, and could we hold 

Booth's strike puts City in the quarter finals. The author is in the paddock behind, trying to remember where his Dad parked the car

out? Sadly not, and I can't be the only City fan sick of the sight of 'that' goal, although in truth I think it had been coming. 

Got the train back, full of disappointed Blues, and there was one very lucky Spurs fan in it as well. In a very loud voice, he proclaimed 'Gerry Gow is to football what myxomatosis is to rabbits'. Several heads turned to give him the eye, but it went no further than that. However, when we got to Stanmore, although I didn't witness any, there may have been some small pockets of trouble. I remember one Spurs fan complaining to us about it. That sort of thing happened in those days, but it was a pretty sombre drive home.

How much would Peter Swales position have been secured more tightly if we had been able to hold on in the first game? I think we did use some/all of the money raised to buy Trevor Francis, but that's a thought for another day.

Graham is on Twitter at .. @exohms

TV TIMES

FA CUP WEEK RETROSPECTIVE 1981

The second of a series of articles on the 1981 FA Cup final features what the BBC and ITV had to offer those missing out on a Wembley ticket. 

Part Two: Racing from Lingfield, Big Daddy and Dickie Davies

Dave Bennett seals his Cup Final place with a well-taken goal v Everton

For most of us who were nippers in the late seventies and early eighties, Cup Final day meant finding a mate with a colour telly and bedding down for the day from about 11.30 in the morning onwards to watch a series of irregular, questionable and offbeat pieces vaguely attached to the sport of football and the big game in question.

My mate's gran was the only person who had a colour tv in those days. She was extremely small, wore odd socks, smelt vaguely of bathroom activities and had more stubble than the pair of us put together but she still managed to be cool come the first week in May. So it was that we had to put up with her inane drivel during Abide With Me and the occasional surreptitious release of gas when the going got really tough towards the end of the match. Weirdly, this all became part of our cup final traditions. Her lethargic flatulence, finding grey chin hairs on your toast and having a granny yawn obliterate an important bit of Brian Moore commentary was all there on Cup Final Sofa.

From Sunderland's momentous win over Leeds to Manchester United's spectacular collapse against Arsenal in the Three Minute Final, images of sweat-stained heroes built up year on year. Bob Stokoe's mac and trilby combo, Alan Taylor's chimney sweep physique, Alan Sunderland's outrageous bubble perm, Roger Osborne sparko on the turf and Bill Shanly, curiously sat practically on opposition manager Joe Harvey's knee, doing that odd side to side arm movement as Liverpool dismantled Newcastle bone by bone in '74.  

Some of these memories are amongst the clearest ones I still have of these long forgotten seasons.

As kick-off approached, the tv pieces would become more relevant, but first you had to wade your way through It's A Cup Final Knockout and Cup Final Jim'll Fix It, with a clutch of gentlemen frollicking around after a

bevvy of young girls in odd outfits (and that was just the hosts of the programme). In retrospect, you wonder who else in this heinous mid morning slapstick might have interested the bods on Operation Yewtree.Tarby was there, Jim was there, possibly the Glitter Band were there. It looks now like a gathering of unmentionable ogres. How naive we all apparently were watching the japes and laughing along... 

In 1981, as in most Cup Final programmes, the BBC had chosen to intersperse things with racing from Lingfield, a quixotic non-football filler to pad out the interminable wait until they could focus their twitching cameras onto the team buses and revert to full-on football hysteria.

The racing, and to a lesser extent ITV's fascinating coverage of Big Daddy and Giant Haystacks crashing their wobbly guts together, two of the most prodigiously non-athletic sportsmen ever invented, allowed you to empty your bladder without missing out on learning what Bobby MacDonald's favourite pre-match meal was (almost certainly beans on toast and a pint of heavy) or finding out that Steve Perryman's wife would be knitting a blue and white cap for their pet poodle, Glen.

Times were simple, times were good. Everything seemed so fresh and uncluttered. You put the telly on and you watched it. No mobile phones, Twitter, emails or Google would interrupt the activities. Just toilet breaks, gas leaks if you were 82, and the occasional need to call out for crisps and sandwiches.

See here the Football Attic's great take on other years' offerings to the ravenous televiewing public on Cup Final day

CATON'S NERVES, TUEART'S DOUBTS

FA CUP WEEK RETROSPECTIVE 1981

The first of a series of articles taking a look back at how City prepared for the Cup Final 32 years ago. Part One: Nerves and Doubts  

BBC Radio Manchester issue the obligatory car stickers for those travelling proudly down the motorway to London

In 1981 City were gearing up for the Centenary FA Cup Final against glamorous favourites Tottenham Hotspur. John Bond's more workmanlike side had battled its way past Big Mal's Crystal Palace in the 3rd round (4-0), mauled Bond's old club Norwich in the 4th round (6-0), scraped past Peterborough at London Road in round five (1-0), disposed of a vibrant Everton after a replay in two quarter-final matches that tested the strength of the heart and the capacity of both Goodison and Maine Road (over 100,000 watched the two games) and squeezed past treble chasing Ipswich Town at Villa Park in a never-to-be-forgotten climax to a sweat-soaked afternoon.

It had been quite a journey to get there, the first time City had managed it since Neil Young's 1969 winner against Leicester. Little did we know that we would have to wait a lot longer for the next occasion, but in 1981 we were not aware of what tricks the future might be about to play on us all.

All focus was on the upcoming trip down to the Big Smoke and a chance to see our beloved City walk out of the Wembley tunnel to that fantastic sight that greeted the teams, one that most of us had only witnessed on our television sets every May. This time it would be City walking out into the noise and colour to be part of the pomp and ceremony of the event of the football calendar. The excitement in Manchester was tangible, the expectation unbearable, as the days ticked past ever more slowly.

Curiously one of the three areas where the papers were unsure who might play on the big day was centre half, where the young colossus Tommy Caton was seen to be vying with the less regular but infinitely more experienced Tommy Booth. Parallels with today's side are made even stronger by the fact that it was the young man, who got the nod, as Matija Nastasic in all likelihood will ahead of Joleon Lescott at the weekend.

Other issues troubling manager John Bond's selection were those at right back, where regular Ray Ranson was coming under pressure for his place from essentially reserve midfielder Tony Henry, who had notched in a see-saw 3-3 home draw with Leicester in the league. Ranson had a niggling injury and Henry had already filled in at right back.

>>  A 1-0 defeat at Ipswich raised the alarm bells

City's league form, coruscating under Bond over a winter that

had seen the side unshackle itself from Malcolm Allison's tactical conundrums and sail up the league into relatively untroubled mid-table waters, had slackened off as the Cup Final hove into view, with results becoming more unpredictable the nearer the Wembley date got.A 1-0 defeat at Portman Road sounded the alarms for Bond, who stated that "nobody was sure of a place if the side continued to play like this...".

In truth there was little Bond and his staff could do to prevent players preserving limbs and muscles for the big day. Injuries at this late stage would mean missing out on a chance of a lifetime. As with City's match with West Brom, league fixtures were proving to be obstacles rather than a help in fine-tuning Cup Final tactics. The added pressure of ensuring a top two finish was absent in 1981, needless to say.

Bond also had to make his mind up between the young Dave Bennett and the vastly more experienced Dennis Tueart for the forward berth alongside Kevin Reeves. Bennett, having scored in a lacklustre one-one draw with Palace to end the league season the previous Saturday, was felt to be just ahead of the wily old Tueart, approaching the twilight of a brilliant career with Sunderland, City and New York Cosmos.

Tueart would eventually have a part to play, but not how anyone had imagined in the week running up to the final.

200 WORDSWORTH #5 MARC VIVIEN FOÉ

Foé: Playing football with a smile

Before the time of Yaya Touré another block of muscle patrolled City’s middle order. He too of West African stock. He too a mighty lion of courage and energy.

In full flow, Marc Vivien Foé, son of Yaoundé, of all Cameroon, of Racing Clube de Lens, of West Ham, of Olympique de Lyon and of Manchester City, was a sight to behold. Those galloping limbs, that massive frame, the great melon grin when a goal came at the end of all that effort.

38 games played in the sky blue of City, with a nine goal return from midfield. A prodigious athlete, an example to all. The first time he hit the net was against Sunderland away, causing a celebration that encapsulated joy and vivacity. His last came against the same opponents at Maine Road. The last ever goal scored at City’s ancestral home, where all our spirits still live.

Marc-Vivien Foé’s spirit lives on there too, for it was one of his last acts in a football shirt. June 26th 2003. For Cameroon against Colombia. In Lyon, of all places. Marc-Vivien Foé’s life came to an end. He died how he played, in the middle of the action.