First Published 20.06.13 WeScoreWhenWeWant
My first ever Thistle game – indeed the first live game I ever attended – was a dreary rain-soaked afternoon tie against the mighty Gretna. It would later turn into a four goal thriller but my family and I contrived to arrive twenty minutes late, miss all the goals and leave moments into the second half when my little brother started crying.
Manchester City used to be a hipster team. Everyone’s favourite losers who never failed to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. Then they became football’s most hated when Sheikh bin Mansour (bin monster) and his billions rolled into town.
As a Londoner raised in Glasgow with undeniably dubious ties to Manchester I was, for all my pre pubescent posturing, a member of the dreaded prawn sandwich brigade. City may be losing to Wigan but they still represented the glitzy Premier League, miles away from both my area and my own kind.
So what could be more hipster than switching allegiances to my local team and forming a true, intimate, personal connection with them? Whilst I don’t honestly go around wondering what’s the most ‘hipster’ thing to be doing – contrary to popular belief – it dovetails nicely.
Doesn’t that all sound just a wee bit familiar to those down Maryhill Road?
Perhaps it goes then that an oddball, vain and socially frustrated nine year old slightly too clever for his own good was always going to attach himself to Manchester City circa 2005. We pick our football teams in line with our identities. That’s the point of them. If we have one already, that’s perfect – get your Old Firm shirt, you’re bottle of Mad Dog and your criminal record from cashier one. If we don’t, we have to craft it ourselves.
Firhill is my home for the next season.