SIDELINE CUT:As Alex Ferguson's side visit Sunderland, all eyes will be back on the Etihad Stadium to witness what promises to be a day of liberation for the blue half of Manchester
HOW STRANGE it must be for Manchester City fans on this weekend of their apparent coronation. Too many times on the last day of the league, they headed to Maine Road or for nerve-wracking away games biting finger nails and downing tins to fend off the spectre of relegation.
This time, those worries belong to the fretting fans of Bolton Wanderers or Queens Park Rangers.
Liam Gallagher, estranged Oasis front man and self-appointed representative of Cool for Manchester City, was in his rock star heyday when City suffered their most ignominious drop thanks to Jamie Pollack’s flabbergasting own goal against QPR on the last day of the 1998 season.
By then, City weren’t even dining at the top table: this was just to stay in the first division. Most own goals occur from a reflex action – a despairing head or boot thrown at a cross or shot as the ball then ricochets into the net.
But Pollack’s contribution to City’s demise was so leisurely in its build up that the thousands of City fans that afternoon had time to absorb the awfulness of the moment even as it happened.
Retreating towards his own goal, Pollack had his defensive duties on his mind as he kept his eye on the football and seemed to exhibit great composure as he took it on the run and scooped it back into the air, out of the path of a poaching forward. He then followed the ball into his own box and directed an authoritative header back to his goalkeeper.
In Pollack’s mind, Nick Weaver was planted on his line, gloves splayed and ready to receive the judiciously weighted back-pass. In reality, Weaver had responded to the eccentricity of Pollack’s defensive play and came to claim the ball, only to find himself stranded as the looping header sailed over him.
Had a forward executed the move, it would have been hailed as one of those nonchalant improvisations that were the calling cards of players like Bergkamp or Ginola.
But for Pollack and for City fans in general, it was a mid-afternoon nightmare, the latest manifestation of the ill-luck that dogged the club.
Today, City fans can afford to be almost nostalgic for those lowly days when mere survival – when merely keeping company with their lofty neighbours – was enough.
While City fell, Manchester United were like the children who had everything – the riches and the toys and glories. This was just two years after United had defied Alan Hansen’s “you’ll never win anything with kids” observation and the Britpop generation defined by Beckham was on full flight.
They were on the cusp of their perfect treble season while City were seemingly sinking, like so many proud clubs have done, fast and unassailably.
In 1986, around the time Alex Ferguson was hanging the family portraits in his office in Old Trafford, City had also secured the services of a Scot to manage them.
Who remembers old Jimmy Frizzell, who lasted a full 12 years at the helm at Oldham but just a single season in Manchester’s second club? Frizzell’s sacking, following relegation from Division One at the end of the 1987 season, set in motion an Arthurian search for the right man to lead City back to its rightful place – wherever that was.
An incredible carousel of characters have spent their time plotting and panicking in Manchester’s mortal club while on match-day Saturday’s Alex Ferguson chewed his gum and presided over great and greater fortune and seemed more ravenous for success with every passing season.
Mel Machin, Tony Book and Howard Kendall all tried to work their magic before Peter Reid’s brand of no-nonsense common sense was considered the answer.
It wasn’t and when he left, Tony Book was asked to take charge again. Not for long though: just one day in fact, August 27th. Brian Horton came and left and Franny Lee, involved in City’s ownership at the time, asked England hero Alan Ball to try his hand.
Asa Hartford lasted one month. He was replaced by Stevie Coppell who could be persuaded to stay for a mere six weeks.
An Anfield stalwart, Phil Neal, was given a go. Enter – and exit Frank Clark, sacked after City dropped into the Hades of Division Three with Pollock’s own goal. Joe Royle took over and did the hard work, hauling the club from League Two to the Premiership but he was sacked when they fell again in 2002.
In came Kevin Keegan, bounding with optimism. Stuart Pearce and then Sven-Goran Eriksson and Sparky Hughes lay their hats there for spells before Roberto Mancini was finally appointed.
Throughout most of that time, Alex Ferguson’s main concern with his neighbouring club was keeping up with the address of the current manager for Christmas card civilities. But by the time of the Italian’s arrival, City had more money to spend than any sports franchise on earth, a glittering new stadium and pretensions to match. All they needed was direction.
And from the moment Mancini began sporting that retro blue and white scarf, worn with élan under his winter coat, he seemed like the perfect fit. The search which had begun decades earlier with Frizzell stopped with this suave Italian with the unflappable temperament.
Alex Ferguson could have paid City no greater compliment than engaging in his touchline spat with Mancini during that recent epochal Manchester derby; it wasn’t so long ago when the idea of a City team getting under Ferguson’s skin would have been unimaginable.
All the stars seem perfectly aligned for Manchester’s eternal bridesmaids now. City just have to win a home match to win their first league title since 1968.
Enter Mark Hughes, a former Old Trafford idol and the man who was sacked before Mancini took over, with his Queens Park Rangers team – the very club saved from relegation in 1998 by Pollock’s moment of divine misfortune.
Now, Rangers are again scrapping to avoid relegation but they are facing a very different City side. Across town, Manchester United fans will journey to Sunderland half resigned to the fact that when they return to Lancashire it will be to a blue moon and a new dawn.
Already, Ferguson has used the last of his tricks, first calling QPR to arms and then all but acknowledging that City are champions in his last press conference of the season – one last turn of the screw.
The chances are he will take his team to Sunderland and they will finish out the season with a win. But all eyes will be back on Manchester to witness what promises to be a day of liberation for the blue half of Manchester.
How fraught with tension and expectation the Etihad Stadium in Manchester will be tomorrow afternoon. All those desperate end of season days when they seemed to exist under a permanent curse, all the hard luck stories and nothing seasons and all that envy is set to be released into the air with so many champagne corks.
But there’s just that nagging bit of business to be taken care of first: just that small, monumental matter of winning it.