A Manchester City – Liverpool hangover diary

This past week I had a great time seeing Manchester City and Liverpool play a friendly (that “wasn’t a friendly”) at Yankee Stadium.  What follows are my thoughts and observations from a night drenched in alcohol and the loud screams of the new American football supporter.

6:00 PM – As my wife and I wait for the oncoming 4 train to the Bronx I’m struck by the ratio of Liverpool fans to Manchester City fans.  It’s 9:1, favoring the boys in Red.  I don’t see anyone wearing a light blue shirt like myself and I keep looking around the crowded platform for anyone who might defend me in case some knob-head fans try to start questioning why I support Manchester City.  As the station keeps filling I can’t help but see Gerrard jerseys filling up the space.  I’m blinded by Liverpool crests and as I shove myself into a crowded train I find someone who just might be wearing a Manchester City jersey and won’t be annoyed by me ….. except he’s wearing an Arsenal jersey.

My blue shirt asks Why Always Me?, as a nod to Mario Balotelli’s hat trick against United.  When the train rumbles itself into the Bronx I am a speck of blue in a field of Red.  Yeah, seriously, WHY ALWAYS ME?

6:15 – My fears of Red vs Blue hooliganism are put to rest when I get the feeling that despite 90% of the fans are Liverpool fans …. 90% of everyone are non-violent Americans like myself with light connections to Europe.  No one is arguing or giving menacing looks to anyone.  This is pretty much a plastic fan, tourist haven for anyone who has watched more than two Premiere League games and can tell the difference between Manchester United and Manchester City.  When a loud gang of Liverpool fans walks around singing Liverpool chants, it’s more because they like chanting, and not because they want to single out Manchester City fans … (because there are no Manchester City fans)

6:30 – I’ve been forced to wait in line for a Manchester City scarf at a small merchandise location staffed by 65 year old, slow as molasses,  Yankee employees.  There are just four merchandise staffers who have to put up with about 150 crazed fans like myself who are in no line, no organization and who have been given no directions on how to wait.  As kick-off looms closer, everyone is getting impatient and desperate to get Gerrard shirts and Liverpool hats.  All I want is a Manchester City scarf and the impatience of a New Yorker begins to scream out of my throat

MY WIFE WAS HERE FIRST!!! WE’RE NEXT!!! HEY, KEVIN!!! KEVIN!!! WE’RE NEXT OVER HERE!!!!

MANCHESTER CITY FANS SHOULD GET PREFERENCE!!! THERE’S A DEAL WITH THE YANKEES!!! A SCARF!!  I JUST WANT A SCARF!!!

JUUUUUUUST A SCAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRFFFFF!!!!!!!!!  JUST A MANCHEEEESTER CIIIIITTYY SCAAAAAAAAARRRFF!!!

WE WERE NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEXXXT!!!!!

25 minutes later with scarf in hand, and dignity out the window, we could get down to the field and indulge in $12.00 beers and $25.00 food.  The greed of the Yankees is something only a resident in a big city can fathom.  The Yankees hired the slow, dementia touched staffers on purpose to drive up demand of merchandise and slow everything down.  The Yankees paid them minimum wage.  Also the beer doesn’t come with any covers; you have to balance it steady like you’re a busy waiter and pray to everything above that no stray beers runs over the top.

7:45 – After half-time I start to get liquid courage and don’t mind yelling at the players from my seats.  Some of my deep observations include yelling that Joe Hart looks like the star from Dawsons Creek (which he does, but the point has been made before).  I then yell out that Manchester City doesn’t depend on a biter (like Suarez) …. but in fact neither does Liverpool now that he’s gone on to Barcelona.  I stop yelling gibberish when I realize I might be annoying people.

9:30 – I’m waiting in line for the restroom when I decide to whistle Blue Moon.  The song vibrates off the tile and amplifies the tune and I hear someone behind me ask ‘Who’s whistling that?’.  I turn around and it’s another Manchester City supporter.  My confidence skyrockets (although I doubt any of the American Liverpool fans know anything about the connection between the Blue Moon song and Manchester City.

9:45 – As the game ends people walk by and compliment me on my Why Always Me shirt and I head back to the train as a contended, inebriated Man City supporter.  A group of Everton fans start calling out to Manchester City fans as they walk out, saying ‘Thank you for not supporting Liverpool!!!’  It’s a great feeling to delude myself into thinking that I’m a hardcore Manchester City fan, but I know the feeling is ephemeral.

Most of us Americans can trade Premiere League identity as easily as putting on a new jersey.  Does it make any sense that I have an Everton jersey back home but I feel like I’m best friends with Liam Ghallager because of my new Manchester City scarf? Why do new soccer fans get attached to a far-off team and then decide to follow another when the feeling gets cold?  My wife doesn’t know anything about soccer and asked me to let her know when to boo and when to applaud.  Are new American soccer fans that different from her in that we have to follow the leads of others to enjoy European soccer the most?

10:00 – I’m on the subway back to Queens wearing my new blue scarf and speaking Cantonese (I’m not Chinese) because I can talk about unsuspecting Liverpool fans right in front of their faces, life is good.  But something is annoying me on my great trip back home.  There’s someone who attended the game, but he’s not backing Liverpool or Manchester City.  No, this guy is wearing a NYCFC SHIRT!!! 

For some bizarre reason I hate this guy.  NYCFC doesn’t even have a team and he’s supporting them over the Red Bulls?  What, Thierry Henry’s not good enough and two press conferences from David Villa and Frank Lampard are enough to make you support Yankee soccer?  I can see myself supporting Manchester City, but NYCFC?  I can watch a friendly on a baseball field, but I have a long way to go before I just drop the Red Bulls and the Metrostar connection.

The irony in the air is thick as I turn my nose up at this NYCFC fan and move on with my fresh Manchester City scarf that I might forget about in two months; new American soccer fans are just trendy bastards.