Confessions of a Correspondent

Stalemates, derby days and the world's busiest man

2008-11-26T14:00:00Z

I got back from Villarreal at 4am on Wednesday morning after driving 300 kilometres to Barcelona.

The trip went well – lunch by the Ebro Delta yesterday and a visit to CD Castellon, the biggest club in the area before Villarreal’s recent rise. The staff at Castellon were very friendly. Gaizka Mendieta started his career there in 1991/92. If they are promoted I’ll go back and watch them play Villarreal as there’s a good story to be written.

The game between Man United and Villarreal finished 0-0 as it always does when the teams meet. Before the game I interviewed a drag queen dressed in Villarreal’s colours (pictured). She was advertising her services outside the main stand and was good value to speak to. I told her that I once had an 'escort' myself - a mark II - but it went over her lurid yellow hat.

As the stadium cleared and I waited for the world’s busiest man - aka the journalist Graham Hunter - Ray Houghton came over for a chat. I last met him in Villarreal three years ago and he’s excellent company. Graham did around 16 interviews in five minutes while we talked. He has that rare talent of not wasting a single word when on air – that’s why radio stations from Ireland to Botswana call him for his views. He once interviewed Pablo Aimar at Valencia and was the last to leave the ground. As he walked back to the centre, a man approached him. It was Aimar taking his dog for a late night walk.

“Your Spanish is very good,” he said to Hunter, “but I’ve been wondering where you are from.”

“Aberdeen, Scotland,” replied Hunter, doubtless before telling Aimar about how great Alex Ferguson’s Aberdeen side were and how Willie Miller was better than Maradona.

Once Hunter had taken another 45 phone calls, we left the main stand and walked out of the ground towards the mixed zone. Edmilson, the God-fearing Brazilian World Cup winner, strolled down the street wearing his Villarreal tracksuit. It coincided with the United fans being let out of the away end, yet nobody recognised him.

The mixed zone was the usual scrum, though it is neatly divided up by the different types of media – daily papers, Sunday papers, television, radio and Spanish media. I was working there for The Sunday Times. Ronaldo ignored all the journalists and Anderson was about to, saying that his English wasn’t good enough.

“What about in Spanish?” I asked.

“No problem,” he replied in Portuguese.

So we were away, me asking questions in Spanish and Anderson replying in Portuguese. I told him that I was going to his home city of Porto Alegre in January and he looked at me like I was not right.

I’m not a fan of mixed zones. It’s far better to sit down one-on-one to conduct an interview, a privilege I’ll have on Monday in Manchester when I’ll interview Anderson’s international team mate Robinho. Wonder if he’ll get a bus there to meet me?

That interview will be after I’ve spent the weekend in South Wales for Swansea vs Cardiff. I focussed on Swansea for the game in September and this time I’ll follow Cardiff, starting with a night out with the lads behind their ‘Soul Crew’ firm on Saturday night. That will only be one aspect of the piece, but they’ve been very helpful. As have Swansea City in all my dealings with them so far.

I’ll miss the Manchester derby as a result which is unfortunate, but I’ve long held the opinion that it’s one of the most underwhelming derbies in football. Unaccountably the atmosphere is rarely better than mediocre. For such a huge football city, Manchester’s encounter is nowhere near the top 10 in the world.

I’ll also miss a Manchester La Fianna friendly on Saturday. We dropped our first points of the season last weekend with a 1-1 draw against the Spanish West Ham (pictured after the game). Their players all sang ‘Fortune’s Always Hiding’ after the game in English. Bobby Moore would have been proud of the rendition.

My 14-year-old brother Sam came on for the last 15 minutes and did very well. Our players generously voted him man of the match, a slight problem as that means downing a large, cheap, neat whisky. I slipped an iced tea, which looks similar, into a glass but didn’t tell anyone. Sam knocked the ‘whisky’ back in one as his mum looked on open-mouthed. As did all the others.

“I just thought... well, they are from Manchester, that’s what they do,” stated an onlooker as if we were some kind of sub-species who let their kids down whisky at 14.

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Morrissey, my mum and Robinho on a bus

2008-11-21T18:00:00Z

The life of the correspondent in the last 24 hours…

1) I managed to sort some Villarreal tickets for face value in the Manchester United end next week for two Red supporting mates. Unfortunately, face value is £57 – for an uncovered seat in the corner of the stadium.

If I had more time on my hands I’d ring Villarreal, who are usually a very helpful club, and request a statement justifying their rip-off ticket prices. And I’d make a flag in Spanish which I’d get placed at the front of the United end calling them thieves.

Never mind Best, Law and Charlton, there should be a statue of Phil Holt, the lad who sorted the tickets outside Old Trafford. For years, he’s helped Reds out with tickets for face value – he’s the oil in the engine of hardcore United fans.

2) I was told that The Sun had run an ‘exclusive’ story about Robinho catching a bus to the Trafford Centre – or ‘Traffic Centre’ as it should be known.

My mum refuses to believe that there’s any sort of economic crisis on the strength of that place always being busy. She could lose her job and still think that everything was fine because there’s a queue at Debenhams. And she should know, she goes five times a week to buy clothes which look exactly the same as the ones she already has.

Anyway, we got the story first and printed it in United We Stand four days before The Sun. And five before the rest of the media who are now running it. Four newspapers have now ripped off stories from our current edition this week and none have credited us. I can feel a full blog coming on this subject soon.

3) I felt my brain numbing ever so slightly after writing profiles of around a dozen Getafe players. The editor wants profiles of every player at 10 top-flight Spanish clubs. The best writer on Spanish football will do the other 10.

The advantage is that I’ll watch Barca vs Getafe on Sunday night and know absolutely everything about every visiting player. Did you know, for instance, that several Israeli clubs tried to sign their Argentinian left back Lucas Licht because he’s Jewish?

4) The Galician Gun, a Manchester La Fianna player who told my mum that she seemed like she was “looking for sex” in a nightclub, called to boast of his latest sexual exploits. He reckons that he’s got six new Italian girls coming out with us on Saturday. I’m sure they’d love to meet my girlfriend.

5) My 14-year-old brother is, so I’m told, “beside himself with excitement” at the prospect of coming to Barcelona this weekend. Stockport County don’t have a game, so he won’t miss out there. I’ll name him as a sub and hopefully make him the youngest ever player to appear in the Barcelona International Football League.

He hasn’t called, because he’s never got any credit in his phone, but I’m told that “he’s looking forward to seeing Barca, but he can’t wait to play for Manchester La Fianna.”

6) I wrote four emails to lads explaining why I wouldn’t be including them in our squad on Saturday against the 'Spanish West Ham.' Over 20 players wanted to play and Jorge Garcia, our former captain of the Belize national team, is back from a three-month spell overseeing a peace treaty in the Middle East.

7) In my inbox was my first ever email from my dad, which I opened with great excitement. He’s an absolute loon. I’ve introduced him to new girlfriends in the past and he’s described them as horny. To their face.

After an industrial accident, he’s spent the last four years teaching 17-year-old lads who haven’t had the easiest of lives or the best educations in the shadow of the Stretford End.

They adore him because he talks about football, music and women. Apparently, he goes mental on a Monday morning if United have lost and absolutely savages Silvestre (his old scapegoat) or Carrick (his new one).

I once gave him a column in UWS, which got me in trouble with virtually every player because he was never happy, not even when United won the treble. His sign off line was ‘Mind Your Minges.’

Sadly, the email was boring. “The son of one of the teachers wants to be a sports journalist and is looking for some advice,” he wrote.

8) I booked a hire car to drive to Villarreal on Tuesday. Among the passengers are two United fans who live in Barcelona who haven’t properly met.

One is a Catholic from The Markets in Belfast who plays central midfield for us. The other is a Protestant from Shaw Road in Belfast, a former heavyweight boxer. Both are brighter than a sunrise over the Antrim coast. I love how Manchester United transcends religious boundaries.

9) I wrote an opinion piece on Real Madrid for a newspaper in Abu Dhabi which is giving me a lot of work at the moment. I found out that one of the editors I’m dealing with in the Gulf is from Stretford where I spent my first five years. Morrissey hails from Stretford too. And Jay Kay from Jamiroquai was born there.

10) I received a request from an advertiser who still owes us money from two years ago. He wants an advert in UWS for a big multi-national he’s representing. I told him to pay up front. He said “fair cop.” Last time I looked in the mirror, I’m sure I didn’t have ‘thick as sh*t’ written on my forehead.

11) The front cover of the new Offside magazine from Sweden arrived. Underneath a big picture of Wayne Rooney and Cristiano Ronaldo, the main strap reads ‘United We Stand’ with ‘Karleken pa Old Trafford rostar aldrig’ below in Swedish.

I’ve no idea what it means, but it’s talking about a 7,000 word piece I’ve done for them on the champions of England and champions of Europe.

One online translator says ‘rostar aldrig’ means ‘toast never’…

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Communication breakdown: the journo's dread

2008-11-18T09:00:00Z

“Is everything ok?” asked the email from an editor in Abu Dhabi on Monday morning. And aside from the pound collapsing against the Euro, it was.

The sun was shining; United beat Stoke 5-0 on Saturday – a scoreline equalled by Manchester La Fianna in Sitges; the rain held off at Old Trafford and the new edition of United We Stand sold well; and work was fine.

“It’s just that we didn’t get your article yesterday.”

I’d sent the reaction piece on Real Madrid’s defeat at Valladolid 24 hours earlier. Having watched the match, I’d got up early on Sunday to write it, leaving friends on Saturday night despite their cries of “just come for one.”

The article didn’t arrive. Maybe pirates had intercepted it off the horn of Africa. Maybe Manchester City’s owners in the Gulf State have banned my email.

Either way, a journalist who doesn’t meet deadlines may as well stop being a journalist.

"Arr! Give us yer words!"

The problem was down to the internet company Pipex, who sponsored Fulham between 2005 and 2007. In the past three months they have managed to delete over 200 of my emails and cut the service seven times, including once on deadline week. In the last four days they’ve not been sending my emails – despite them appearing to be sent.

So the La Fianna lads didn’t get the team I sent out last Thursday, and another newspaper didn’t get my reply saying I would like to interview Maradona for them.

Despite having the option of using the likes of Hotmail or Yahoo for free, I’ve paid Pipex for 11 years for a supposedly professional service. This year it has been anything but.

When there’s a problem you can’t ring them from abroad because they’ve abandoned all their numbers for dreaded (and expensive) 0871 versions. I found a way around that, only to be directed to a call centre where the staff’s grasp of English was questionable. One refused to proceed with my complaint because I wasn’t giving her the correct phone number.

“Your phone number should start with zero, sir.”

“Zero and ‘0’ are the same,” I replied.

The call centres were always unable to help and never deviated from the line: “We’re experiencing technical issues. We understand your frustration, sir.”

“It’s like talking to a robot,” I said to one.

“We understand your frustration, sir.”

The email from Abu Dhabi was the tipping point; I’m cancelling Pipex and reluctantly changing my email address.

"We understand your frustration, sir.”

But they're not the only ones. O2, the mobile company I have effectively been with since 1992, sold me a faulty iPhone last month. The same O2 who started charging me to receive calls in Spain six months after I signed a contract that allowed me to receive free calls.

“Do you really think I'd change a contract for one that started charging me?” I asked in exasperation to an O2 fool who was thicker than a loaf of Hovis. They eventually offered a full refund and I’ve complained to Ofcom.

But could I get O2 to change my iPhone for one that worked? No. I was given conflicting information several times, before they asked me to wait at my mum’s for two days for a new one.

“But I work,” I said. “I can come and collect a new one? Name your city – Manchester, Middlesbrough, Glasgow, Newcastle, London, Barcelona. I can be there.”

“I’m sorry sir, we understand your frustration, but we’re not part of the O2 that has shops."

Lord, give me strength.

As it transpired a former Manchester City youth player who wants to be a football agent sorted it direct with Apple. He manages O2’s shop in Manchester. I’ll never knock City fans, nor their team that never wins, again.

Well, for about a month at least.

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Why Curzon Ashton are better than Barcelona...

2008-11-13T14:00:00Z

Greetings from the press box at Camp Nou.

Barcelona are about to kick-off a cup tie against Benidorm of the regional third division in front of the smallest crowd I’ve ever seen here for a first team game – around 20,000.

You can easily pick out ‘Mes Que Un Club’ (More Than A Club) in yellow seats opposite. Barca’s website optimistically stated that there was no excuse for missing this game. Plenty have found one.

"The game is tonight isn't it?"

I was hoping that Benidorm fans would enjoy a trip to Camp Nou, much like QPR buzzed of going to Old Trafford on Tuesday, where they took 7,000 giddy fans. Hoping to see thousands of raffish Benidorm supporting ex-pats who work in garish bars serving all day English breakfasts for a Euro (about a pound these days) and boast signs saying ‘No Foreign Muck.’

Until 1,000 skinny skyscrapers (they are thin so that as many rooms as possible get a sea view) were built and tourism took over, Benidorm was a pretty fishing village on Levante beach. Now it’s known as the Manhattan of Spain.

I was hoping for chants in English and flags calling people w*nkers. Instead, there’s about 40 Spaniards in the nose-bleed seats at the back of the third tier getting wet.

So I’ll talk about Curzon Ashton instead, who beat Exeter City in the FA Cup First Round last Saturday at their impressive Tameside Stadium.

My brother Jonathan, the 'non-league gypsy' has thrice parked his caravan at Curzon and remains close friends with their manager Gary Lowe, whom he argues with on the phone every day.

Lowe is in tonight’s Manchester Evening News, pictured with his wife Anna holding a glass of red wine. The headline is ‘The Romance of the Cup’ and his wife talks of how they met and his opening chat-up line in an Ashton bar: “Why don’t you give me a kiss, gorgeous?”

Lowe has always made me feel welcome to come training whenever I am in Manchester (one heavy session saw me need six sessions with a chiropractor at 30 notes a pop), like at the start of last season.

Michael Norton strokes home Curzon's opener

There were a lot of new players and I only recognised a few. Not wanting to unbalance the tender dressing room etiquette, the gypsy didn’t introduce me.

Instead, he let the other players weigh me up as we walked onto the training field and took great delight in telling one of them that I’d been signed from Morecambe to play in his position. I kept my head down, but it was clear that I wasn’t as good as them.

Then Lowe came out of the dressing room and told everyone that I was the gypsy’s brother. “And don’t be smart with him,” he shouted, “because Andy’s been… to university!”

Several players looked at me like I was an alien. One even asked me what it was like, as if Lowe had said ‘on death row’ and not university.

Lowe then made me mark Rhodri Giggs for the entire session, which was hard because while he’s got nothing on his brother, he’s far quicker, younger and better than me. My team-mates did help me a lot though and I enjoyed it thoroughly.

A few days later Lowe called me. The gypsy had got him to do something similar several times before, saying things like: “It’s the FA Vase Semi-Final on Saturday and my right-back has picked up an injury. Do you think you can do a job for us?”

I wanted to, I really wanted to and I swear I would not have let him down, but I knew he was winding me up. But this call was different. “I’m thinking of bringing the missus over to Barcelona for a weekend,” Lowe said. “Are there any shops there?”

Benidorm have just hit the post after 20 minutes and so the naughty 40 are getting raucous, as they should, for at this stage Barca are usually four up. Actually, the police are now moving them to better seats lower down.

Congratulations then to Curzon, who play at level eight, for beating Exeter, who play four leagues higher. Glynn Barker, one of the Curzon players, had booked to come out to Barcelona to play for Manchester La Fianna last weekend, but decided that he’d better stay for the Exeter game. He’d scored the surprise winner in the fourth round qualifying tie which set up the clash with last season's Conference Play-off winners.

"Kidderminster here we come!"

So Curzon did what Manchester United couldn’t, and beat Exeter at home in the FA Cup. And given that Barca couldn’t manage a draw at Old Trafford, that would make Curzon better than Barcelona. And, because I’d trained with them, me better than Lionel Messi. Who has just scored a penalty. 1-0 to Football Club Barcelona.

I’m going to applaud the Benidorm players for their efforts. I might even get a discount on a one Euro breakfast on my next visit.

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From Pallister's sofa to 'ell at the Emirates

2008-11-10T15:00:00Z

Where I've been and what I've seen after nine exhausting days on the road...

1) A lad in a Liverpool shirt with ‘Gerrard’ on the back… walking down Chester Road past thousands of Manchester United fans heading to Old Trafford before the Hull game. He seemed to revel in the abuse. Definitely a ‘not right’.

2) Being the only United We Stand seller at Old Trafford before the Hull game after the usually reliable lad who looks after our sellers failed to get out of bed because he’d been on the piss. That’s never happened in the 19 year history of UWS. I was absolutely livid.

3) Getting up at 7am on Sunday morning to drive my brother Sam to Lilleshall to play for Stockport County against Shrewsbury Town. He scored twice. The boy can play.

4) Doing a three-hour interview with Gary Pallister at his house in the beautiful village of Yarm, near Middlesbrough. Pallister conducted the entire interview lying on his sofa. He was good value and finished by saying: “I’ve told you far too much haven’t I?”

"Did I mention I've just had a brand new sofa delivered..."

5) Walking into St. James’ Park just as Newcastle scored their second against Villa. It’s easily the best-located stadium in the country.

6) Nicky Butt turning up 40 minutes late for an interview because his car had a puncture. He apologised profusely then said: “I’m not going to train today so we’ve got as much time as you like.” Butt was superb – his frankness surprised me. He kept saying: “I’ve never said this before, but…”

7) Visiting Bamburgh Castle in Northumberland on a sunny winter’s day. There was barely another soul about at what must be one of the most beautiful spots in the British Isles.

8) Celtic fans singing “We shall not be moved” after United got a late equaliser at Celtic Park. The atmosphere wasn’t on a scale with Vasco de Gama vs Manchester United in the Maracana, but it was very, very loud.

9) As the TAG style police stood outside the pub I was in with many other Manchester United fans close to Glasgow’s Buchanan Street, I hopefully confused one of them by asking for directions to the city’s Burrell Collection. He didn’t know, but his colleague did.

10) A lift to Celtic Park with the very affable (despite getting a parking ticket) Michael Grant, chief football writer for the Sunday Herald. He’s an Aberdeen fan and Sir Alex Ferguson is still like a god to him and his fellow Dandys.

11) Larry McMahon, a Celtic fan sorted two United We Stand writers out with tickets for the match. I expected them to be face value. Larry insisted that they were free.

"What do we want... FANZINES... When do we want them..."

12) Watching Paddy Crerand meet and greet old friends and foes at Celtic Park. It gave me great pleasure just to watch and see him full of energy and enthusiasm for life.

13) Having to keep my Mancunian accent very quiet as I did an interview for a radio station in Dublin… while walking alone surrounded by thousands of Celtic fans down London Road after the game.

14) Hearing the thud as an elderly Celtic fan slipped off a rail and banged his head on the wet concrete outside Bridgeton rail station after the match. He’d tried to climb over the rail by the side of the road. It was horrible. I told a police medical officer (quietly) and he was soon trying to help him. I hope he’s alright.

15) The Caledonian Sleeper from Glasgow to Euston. Why was I as excited as a six-year-old at the prospect of sleeping on a train?

16) An Irish girl asking me if I was a Scouser in Kilburn because “my accent sounds Scouse.”

17) Highbury used to be one of the cheapest top flight grounds for away fans. At the Emirates it is £48 to sit in the away end. And several Reds asked me why they couldn’t buy UWS at the Hull game. Grrrr.

18) My discomfort at the result was tempered by meeting a Michael and Justin, a father and son from Oxford on the tube after the game. Both Gooners, Michael is a doctor who has been working in Uganda. They were delighted with their team, but complimentary about United. I hope Justin doesn’t think all United fans are evil from now on.

19) Getting 82 emails on Friday and telling my girlfriend that I need a secretary, ideally a 21 year old female. “She has to be 60 and fat,” she replied.

"Telephone call for you Mr. Mitten..."

20) Arriving back in Barcelona to see that Barca were again smashing another team to pieces in the first half. And to meet the delighted Manchester La Fianna players who had beaten main rivals Dynamo 2-0.

Travels for work have seen me become a more peripheral figure. Perhaps that’s why we’ve won every game this season and are top of the league…

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Cruyff, Cliftonville and The Ketchup Song

2008-10-31T09:00:00Z

Another exciting and hectic week awaits.

It starts with an interview with Jordi Cruyff on Friday, who lives in Barcelona, before a flight to Liverpool. It’s with Ryan Air so they will have worked out three new surcharges to extract coins from customers since my last flight. Maybe there will be a credit crunch tax or a new tax for each wing.

They’ve additional fees for everything else. They’ll charge me for checking in at the airport later as I’ll commit the heinous crime of carrying baggage. Where else am I supposed to check in? The pet shop?

After doing an interview with a Norwegian magazine in a greasy spoon café tomorrow morning, I’ll watch the mighty Tigers play at Old Trafford at 3pm. That’s only Manchester United’s second 3pm game so far this season and clashes with, my brother, Jonathan’s game.

Now 32, he’s been labelled ‘the non-league gypsy’ for his attempts to play for every semi-professional club in the north-west before he retires. He’s only got about four to go.

'Non-league gypsy' Mitten (L) in action for FC United vs Leigh RMI

On Sunday morning, I’ll drive my little brother Sam - another centre forward - to Lilleshall for Stockport County vs Shrewsbury Town at Under-14 level. After, we’ll go and see our grandparents. Granddad’s brother Charlie was the family star, but granddad played professionally for Ballymena in Northern Ireland.

While on a job at Cliftonville four years ago, an elderly Cliftonville director told me that he’d played against my granddad half a century ago. “Hard b*st*rd. Centre forward,” was his description, which threw me as I’d only ever known him as someone who watched horse racing and gave me sweets.

I called granddad and handed my phone over. The elderly pair chatted for 15 minutes about a game 50-years ago when they were on opposing sides. It was lovely to watch and there was a tear in Mr Cliftonville’s eye as he handed the mobile back.

“Lovely fella,” said granddad. “Haven’t got a clue who he is though.”

"Who's that? Is that you young Andrew?"

Monday morning means the United debate show on Channel M. The Manchester Evening News bigs it up on the front page, listing the show’s participants… everyone except for the small-time no-mark that is me.

We’ll then drive north, to Gary Pallister’s house in Yarm for an interview. I say ‘we’ because the girl’s coming along. That’s partly because Michael Martin, the editor of the Newcastle fanzine True Faith, told her about the virtues of his city and the north-east when they met.

He didn’t tell her it will be freezing and the opposite to the Brazilian summers she is used to this time of year. So it’ll be Bamburgh Castle and Lindisfarne then… after interviewing Nicky Butt on Tuesday morning.

What I won’t tell Nicky is that I invented the song Manchester United fans sang for him, the one to the tune of KC and the Sunshine Band’s, ‘Baby Give It Up.’ It’s the only chant I’ve ever started and it caught on after Peter Boyle, the lad who starts a lot of the chants at Old Trafford, put it on one of his CDs of United songs.

A lot of the Manchester grafters are going up to Glasgow a day before Celtic play United to work the Oasis concert and one has invited us to go along. He’s known the Gallaghers since they were kids and, despite being United, he likes them.

Falkirk’s mighty Arnau Riera – who lists his favourite song as Las Ketchup – The Ketchup Song , is coming too. He’s back from injury and ready to storm the SPL. After watching Oasis.

Riera celebrates scoring at Ibrox... and getting Oasis tickets

A day of meetings and greetings in Glasgow will be followed by Celtic playing United on Wednesday. United no longer have Louis Saha to miss a penalty in Glasgow’s East End, so we should do alright. I’m looking forward to the atmosphere as it’s superb for big matches and that new Celtic song sounds brilliant.

A night train from Glasgow will deposit us in that London the following morning. I’ll never tire of arriving in London, but I’m always happy to leave.

The editor rang earlier to sound me out about interviewing a Spanish speaking Arsenal player down there. If I do, I will attempt to sow seeds of self-doubt into his mind ahead of their game at the Emirates against the champions of Europe next Saturday.

And after that, it’s back to Spain for Barca vs Valladolid. Oh, and I’ve got to find time to edit the next edition of United We Stand. I’ve already sent the designer a dozen pages, but there’s still 32 to go.

Good job the internet exists...

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Hull, Harriers and Heaton's Housemartins

2008-10-27T16:00:00Z

I once went out with a girl who lived in Hull, as did a mate of mine – a different girl obviously as we’re not from Burnley.

We’d drive along the M62 to see our girlfriends, fearful that we were going to get attacked for being out of towners at any point beyond Selby. We’d time our visits carefully so they wouldn’t clash with Manchester United games and would watch the free public boxing bouts each weekend night in Hull city centre.

On one visit, I arrived in Hull on a Saturday afternoon.

“It’s a nice day, let’s go to the park,” I said to my then better half.

“You don’t know any parks in Hull,” she replied.

“Trust me, I do.”

It's got grass, seats and six pylons. What more do you want?

An hour later we were stood on Bunkers Hill, otherwise known as the south terrace at Boothferry Park, her bored and baffled, me engrossed by the six floodlight pylons – it was the only ground in Britain with six giant pylons. It was 1995, crowds were around 5,000 and Dean Windass was still a sprightly 43.

Often derided, Hull has some salient points. The Paragon railway station is wonderful. If it was in London it’d have a champagne bar, six branches of Pret a Manger and homosexual men in square glasses from Hampstead talking about the relative aesthetic value on television.

But it’s in Hull and serves as a rail station, where passengers buy tickets, board and alight trains. Which is what it was built for.

The view of the Humber Bridge rivals the Golden Gate in San Francisco, the Deep’s (an aquarium) modern architecture contrasts smartly against the Hull Tidal surge barrier and they even have a huge church named in honour of Law, Best and Charlton - the Holy Trinity.

And on your left you can see Alcatraz island. Err, hang on...

As well as having one of the best fanzines around (Hull, Hell and Happiness), Hull had a great record shop called Sidney Scarborough. I once walked up to the counter and hummed a song I wanted to buy. The assistant, who looked like he had a brain the size of the internet and therefore should know, looked at me as if I was from Grimsby and didn’t reply: “That’ll be Inner City Life by Goldie.” Which is what I was trying to hum.

My next encounter with the Tigers was in 2004 when, following the early kick-off in the FA Cup semi-final between Man United and Arsenal at Villa Park, I spurned my friends’ invitations to go into Birmingham, drink beer and peer at attractive girls in Broad Street before getting filmed and sectioned by the ever hostile West Midlands constabulary.

Instead, I drove alone to Aggborough, home of Kidderminster Harriers and arrived late for their game against Hull.

My mum called to see where her 31-year-old son was.

Aggborough: Home of the Harriers. Watch out for tigers

“I’m just going to the loo, while watching the mighty tigers,” I said, half in jest.

“You’re at the zoo watching tigers?” she replied, while going for the yellow pages to find the number of a counsellor.

Kidderminster are now non-league, Hull are heading for the Champions League. I’d love to see them in it, though it’d be a chore for their fans to apply for passports ahead of travelling.

Imagine people from Hull outside Milan’s Duomo or the Prado in Madrid? They’d turn their noses up and say things like: “Nothing on Princes Quay and there’s no a ferry to Zeebrugge round the corner either.” And imagine manager Phil Brown in Milan? He’d be able to buy a properly tailored suit and not something that had been left in Studio 54’s coatroom.

I’d like Hull to reach the 2010 European Cup final and play United, who they will probably beat on Saturday because they’re Hull City and they win football games every week.

Paul Heaton, a famous former resident of Hull (he moved there for no reason other than he’d never been and wanted to be near the sea), helps run a football team a lot of my mates play for in Manchester. I played a game with them last season. Heaton leant me his boots and I got changed pitch-side by his scooter, my feet sinking into the waterlogged South Manchester earth.

Heaton: Currently penning 'London 0 Hull 10'

Last Sunday, Heaton was continually distracted by media calls before their game. Who would have thought that in deciding to name a Housemartins album ‘London 0 Hull 4’ two decades later it would symbolise Hull City beating four London teams including Tottenham and Arsenal in the first two months of the season?

I’m made up for them, and for the fact that they’re smashing through all perceived Premier League predictabilities, but they need bringing down to earth.

Starting with Saturday when I’ll be throwing Grimsby processed fish from my seat into the Hull end.

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May musings, Sharpe stories and befuddling Bhoys

2008-10-22T14:00:00Z

After being a guest on Channel M’s ‘United Debate Show’ with former goalkeeper Alex Stepney (Noel Gallagher watches it every week and has opined that all the guests are “w***ers”) I spent Monday afternoon interviewing David May.

From stories to how he lost his virginity to practical jokes which would make Gordon McQueen blush, he was funny, frank and fearless. He’s a lad’s lad and was hugely popular in the Manchester United dressing room. May’s going to play a game for Manchester La Fianna next month.

"So did I tell you about the time I lost my virginity..."

Tuesday was the turn of Lee Sharpe in Leeds. Although more guarded, he has plenty of tales and I like him. At his request, I spent four hours with him a couple of years ago with a view to ghosting his autobiography, but a deal had already been signed with the excellent David Conn of The Guardian.

Now single, Lee also fancies a trip to Barcelona. I then drove back across the Pennines with a heavy heart at the prospect of what lay ahead.

It wasn’t that I had to start a 7,000 word feature for the first-rate Swedish magazine Offside, which likes depth and colour in articles - they had a 28-page feature on Real Murcia last month.

My piece will be about the ‘other’ Manchester United, the grafters, touts, collectors, singers, fanzines, hoolies, jibbers, obsessives and anoraks. I’ve known most of the characters for 20 years and trust, which I’ve never mislaid, was vital to them talking and being pictured. It was enjoyable, hearing from characters in the football world whom Sky TV don’t even know exist.

Then I sold United We Stand, knowing that it would be an awkward night because we were playing Celtic. I’m a patient soul well versed in directing face-painted, jester-hatted day-trippers towards the 76,000 capacity stadium right in front of them, but I’m as tired of inebriated Celtic fans at Old Trafford as many Mancunians are of Rangers fans. I know plenty of good people who support an Old Firm team, but their stock is low in Manchester.

Bhoys fans make a racket at the Theatre of Dreams

Most away fans at Old Trafford keep their heads down. Not Celtic.

Scuffles broke out at the top of Sir Matt Busby Way, while nearby, a drunk approached me an with Irish accent and asked for two copies. He rolled them up, placed them in his pocket and refused to pay, before asking why they weren’t free.

His English was appalling. That’s because he was a Polish Legia Warsaw fan who lives in Galway! He showed me Legia tattoo on his wrist and he stayed around, but he was steaming.

I got the fanzines back off him and told him to stop wasting our time. Then I bombarded his brain with useless information.

“1972,” I said. “Tin of beans. Aeroplane. Big park. Fat lion. Tizwas.” He looked suitably befuddled and wandered off. I decided to retain the tactic for any smashed Celts. They soon arrived. One mess of a human being walked up, nearly banged into me and pointed at a fanzine.

“Tshn osid agwy p,” he blurted.

“What language are you speaking?” I enquired. He made the Geordie hotel porter in Alan Partridge sound like the Queen. So I looked him in the eye.

“Two donuts,” I said firmly. “Odeon cinema. Albion Market. Terry Tibs. Zebra crossing.” He rolled back onto his feet and moved on to mither someone else.

Never mind where you're sleeping, DON'T SPILL YOUR BEER!

Another, more aggressive lad soon approached.

“What’s that?” he said in a clearly Glaswegian accent, jabbing his finger towards the fanzine.

“The Maastsrict Treaty,” I replied. “Finbar Saunders, Mull of Kintyre, Crystal Meth and Barry White.” He looked at me menacingly. Then he saw my two shaven-headed cousins standing close by and lurched, completely plastered but with hope in his heart, towards the away end.

Once inside it, Celtic were very, very loud. Their team were outclassed and twice wronged by the referee, but they carried on singing, even though songs like “You’ll Never Walk Alone” got the kind of reaction Celtic fans would give on finding out that their half-time pitch entertainment would be Graeme Souness playing a flute - and wearing an orange suit.

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Sharpey, Chiles, Big Ron, fags and horse tranquiliser

2008-10-17T13:00:00Z

Manchester La Fianna got off to an 8-1 winning start in the league last week. Everything went well on the pitch, but not off it.

Players take turns to wash the kit. The player with the kit didn’t arrive on time and sent a message to say he’d also “forgotten” to wash the kit. The other lads weren't happy as they waited for the stinking shirts, especially as there was still no sign of the player after 40 minutes.

Two groups were thus dispatched into the barrios – one to pick up a different set of shirts, another to buy 15 pairs of black socks. A sports shop close to the stadium called neighbouring stockists and 15 pairs were eventually procured as kick-off approached. Shorts? We’d work that one out.

The player eventually arrived with kit bag and putrid contents. I was fuming. Running a team is requires a lot of effort, efforts which can be undone by such actions. And it’s not the first time he’s let the team down.

The same lad missed a vital game last year after someone spiked his drink the night before a game in a nightclub (his line of work). With horse tranquiliser. We’ve all but weeded out to the difficult characters to create a better team spirit, but I never wanted to lose him because he’s a great lad who's always smiling. That and he’s one of our best players.

"Did you nick my pint?"

He was apologetic; I was apoplectic. I had a word outside the dressing room and explained how I felt. He looked at me with big innocent eyes, so much that I felt out of order. He then apologised to the team – while I dropped him to the substitutes’ bench. He eventually came on, did well and at 3am the next morning got everyone into his club for a brilliant night. What’s there not to like about him?

We play our second league game this Saturday, but I’ll be absent watching Manchester United against West Bromwich Albion. When I was 10, there was a picture of West Brom in our shed.

It wasn’t just that I liked them for selling us Bryan Robson and Remi Moses, plus giving us manager Ron Atkinson, but they were sponsored by the no-smoking logo whose people came to our school. As they told us about the dangers of nicotine, they handed out posters of the Baggies… in a Manchester United stronghold.

Remember when West Brom had a sponsor?

I’ve always liked West Brom. Their fanzine Grorty Dick was a decent read and even their most famous fan, Adrian Chiles, is alright. The day before the ’95 FA Cup final I was a guest on Working Lunch, which he presented.

Along with some mates, I travelled from Manchester to the studio in London. They went in the green room and snaffled beers, while after it had finished Chiles offered us a lift into London. He was sound.

Sadly, he wasn’t with One Show co-presenter Christine Bleakley, as she was 15 in 1995 and would, presumably, have been at school. Like many teen girls then, I bet she fancied Lee Sharpe who I’ll meet in Leeds in Tuesday after spending Monday afternoon with David May. Both interviews will be for the 90s United book.

Then I’ll sell the new edition of United We Stand before the Celtic game at Old Trafford. Selling fanzines when either Glasgow club are the opponents is not for the nervy – visiting fans either abuse you, bump into you or hug you because they’re utterly inebriated… or buy 10 copies for the same reason.

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Clayton's confession & McQueen's messy mishap

2008-10-15T08:00:00Z

I’m currently interviewing people for my next book, an as yet untitled tome about Manchester United in the 1990s which will be published next autumn.

When I’ve got 11 in-depth interviews on record, I’ll sail into the sunset on a ship called Dignity armed with a laptop and write it between January and May 2009.

I wrote a similar one called ‘We’re The Famous Man United’ about United in the 80s, where I spent at least three hours each with 11 former players, from Bryan Robson to Gordon McQueen, Billy Garton to Gary Bailey.

I chose each on account of their great anecdotes and life stories rather than solely on their footballing ability. Some of the best chapters were with lesser players, like Garton whose rollercoaster of a life story had bigger inclines than most, or Clayton Blackmore who, three hours into a four-hour interview, said that he’d never told his father he loved him and that he was going to do it soon.

I wasn’t expecting that.

Blackmore: "This one's for you dad"

Or Gordon McQueen, who took me on the beer for the day in Yarm. When his lovely wife picked us up at 5pm to take me back to the train station, she said:

“You’ve been drinking.”

“I’m allowed, it’s the close season,” he replied.

“But you haven’t played for 20 years,” she countered.

McQueen was outstanding company and told me stories like the one where he was rooming with Kevin Moran in London’s Royal Lancaster, the night before flying to Majorca for a week’s break with United.

The Irish defender was lying on his bed busy with a telephone conversation as McQueen walked out of the bathroom wearing just a towel. The big Scot positioned his backside close to the face of the distracted Moran and removed the towel before attempting to squeeze out a "wee fart" while announcing "Kop a bit of that."

But McQueen involuntarily followed through, spraying the Republic of Ireland defender’s face with warm excrement. Moran did not immediately realise what had happened, before emitting a loud “Aaaarghhh!” then shouting: "You dirty b*st*rd, you dirty, dirty b*st*rd." Moran’s pained cries were heard by the rest of the team, much to their delight.

"Kop a bit of this Moran..."

The book was great fun to do and from the feedback I had the players enjoyed it too. Frank Stapleton helped promote it by signing copies and another player bought 20 copies to give to friends. And then there was John Gidman, the most mental of a mental bunch. He still calls from his den in the south of Spain.

United in the 90s was very different to the 80s and so it was always going to be more difficult getting players. Whereas the 80s lads appreciated the money (not their main reason for giving the interviews), most of the 90s lads don’t have to worry about their finances. I’ve approached 10 players so far and every single one has agreed to it. I’m surprised and delighted.

Most of the 80s players still live in or around Manchester (though Garton is in California and Bailey in South Africa), whereas the 90s players are spread far and wide. One lives in Moscow, another just called from Kuala Lumpur airport to say that he’s up for it. He likes his tropical destinations, this kid. Another flies to the Ukraine tomorrow and will return next week so we can meet in Spain.

Again, I’ve gone for those who I think have the most interesting stories and are in a position to tell them, people I know and I would like to think trust me. Two emailed back (well, one got his secretary to do it) to say that they are happy to appear in the book but don’t want paying.

They are still earning a Premiership wage playing, but they are entitled to be paid for their time like anyone else. One wants to talk towards the end of the season as his job is rather exacting, another next month.

"Blomqvist: "Going so soon? But I know this great little Italian..."

I’ve done three interviews so far, with Jesper Blomqvist the most recent. He was very generous with his time in Stockholm recently where I spent a couple of days with him. At midnight on the second day I considered my work complete, when Jesper said: “I know a good Italian café we can go to – and an Iranian place after that if we’re not finished.”

Jesper Blomqvist was fascinating and not only because he was so honest. Don’t ever think that fame and fortune makes for an easy life. I want to write more here but that really defeats the object of doing the book and I doubt my publisher, who is paying for me to travel far and wide, would be too pleased. Still, I intend to keep you posted with bits of information.

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Gerrard, giant Germans and Chas 'n' Dave

2008-10-09T14:00:00Z

I don’t like international weeks.

The papers are filled with dull-as-Dewsbury tactical discussions about the lad who kissed the badge on his chest (then put in a transfer request), injury news and anodyne player quotes.

I shouldn’t be too harsh on Steven Gerrard. He may be King Rat, star of the Scouse, yet I spent a day with him in Barcelona and enjoyed his company, partly because of his non-stop mocking of Man United and Manchester. Which is what the captain of Liverpool should do.

"Unlucky at Anfield last month lads..."

But back to international week, where the England manager is either cast as a demon or a deity. I was in the company of several leading football writers at the time the FA were chasing Phil Scolari to be England boss – an invitation he sensibly turned down.

“It’s whether he can handle what comes with the job,” said one.

“You mean us lot?” asked another.

That’ll be suggesting managers be sacked if a country usually ranked between 8th and 14th in the world don’t fulfil the ridiculous expectations thrust upon them. Nobody crucifies the Aston Villa manager for not finishing in a Champions League position, so why do England managers get hammered for not overachieving?

But what I hate most about international weeks is the absence of club football. Take last Saturday. I said goodbye to the girl at midday and told her I’d see her in 12 hours.

Ahead of me was Manchester La Fianna’s final pre-season game. We won 2-0, making it four wins and a draw from five. We must have looked at 30 players and I now have a good idea of the 19 lads who’ll be asked to pay to be part of the squad ahead of the season starting this Saturday.

Among our new players is a seven-foot tall German midfielder whose Slovak girlfriend is so fit that I’m going to request that she doesn’t attend matches as the lads won’t be able to concentrate.

Alongside him is a diminutive, bespectacled, Belgian who played for Mouscron, birthplace of Steed Malbranque. It’s also twinned with Barry in South Wales.

If we didn’t have enough midfielders, we’ve also got a Paul Scholes look-a-like from The Markets area of Belfast. It’s safe to assume that he’s not a Glasgow Rangers fan.

There’s a cockney Tottenham fan who listens to Chas ‘n' Dave on his iPod in the dressing room while chomping on jellied eels and wondering why Berbatov joined United when they don’t have electricity in the north.

Chas, Dave and the Spurs squad have a right old knees up

And I still have West African characters straight out of Fonejacker who think that playing for Manchester La Fianna is a stepping-stone to starring for Manchester United.

“I’d like to play in English second division next season and see where I go from there,” one player, who claims he’s 22, told me recently. Do you shatter a dream there and then?

News of our team has travelled – United themselves are sending their coaches to Barcelona in February to study Barça’s training methods.

And the coaches wondered if we wanted a game. I’ll not be around there then - that and I don’t fancy marking Brian McClair, one of the brightest people in football, because he’ll destroy me.

Then I watched Blackburn vs United in a pub. Which is where most of the 8,000 travelling United fans appeared to have been before the 5.30pm kick-off given the number of drunken texts I received, including one from the players’ lounge telling me his afternoon had been spoilt by the mere presence of Robbie Fowler.

I wanted to be at Blackburn, always one of the best away games of the season because of the substantial ticket allocation and proximity to Manchester.

Rooney wallops home United's second at a wet Ewood Park

And I hate watching football in pubs in Barcelona because they are full of “United” fans who call the team “Man U,” have never been to Old Trafford and don’t even know that the Stretford End used to have 1,900 bench seats at the back. I got carried away there, but they do fulfil several stereotypes of United’s support.

After that it was a trip to the Camp Nou. What a game. Barca were three up against Atletico after nine minutes and led 5-1 after 28. 20,000 Barca fans watched their team for the first time this season, boosting the gate to 75,000. They were mesmerized by Messi and I can’t recall a better 45 minutes of football in Spain as Guardiola continues to get it right.

And so to this weekend. No United, no Barca. Can’t Borat come out of retirement and brighten up the Kazakhstan game?

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Cantona quote controversy & Aaron 'the Axe' Mokoena

2008-10-02T11:30:00Z

Did you see the Eric Cantona quotes in the media earlier this week?

The ones where he told The Sun about how he feared for Manchester United’s future once Sir Alex Ferguson left the club? After being printed, the quotes were picked up by websites around the world. The BBC quoted The Sun, as did Manchester United’s official website.

Except Eric Cantona didn’t speak to The Sun. The interview he gave was to me, for FourFourTwo. The very interview that I’ve written about in past blogs.

I saw Neil Custis, the Sun journalist who wrote the story in Aalborg on Tuesday and asked him why his newspaper had not credited FourFourTwo. He said that he had in the piece that he had sent to his office, but a sub editor must have removed any reference to FourFourTwo. Ah, that old chestnut. I think they were taking the piss and told him so.

"I don't remember talking to The Sun..."

As I left Aalborg’s tiny Subbuteo stadium, my phone rang. It was M'bazo; aka ‘the Axe’ - Aaron Mokoena to his employees at Ewood Park.

He may play for Blackburn and be the captain of South Africa, but he’s a United fan who idolised Roy Keane when he was growing up in Boipatong, one of the roughest townships near Johannesburg. The pair met on the field and clattered each other when 'the Axe 'arrived in England in 2005.

He said he was concerned about me.

“Why?” I asked, waving goodbye to AaB’s cheery staff as I snaffled some left-over Champions League sandwiches.

“This girl you are seeing. I hear it’s all a bit serious already.”

"What's this I hear about you settling down, Mitten?"

“Aaron,” I replied. “If you’re going to try and wind me up, at least tell my brother who has clearly put you up to it not to giggle in the background.”

“It’s nothing to do with him,” he continued. “I’m just worried.”

Not half as worried as Jose Mourinho was after 'the Axe' cut Arjen Robben to size with an admittedly shocking tackle a few years ago. He always got on fine with Robben, whom he’s played against when he was at Ajax, and apologised.

But I could hardly blame him for trying it on. When he’d just arrived in England I told him that Blackburn’s most loyal fans were called ‘The Burnley Clarets’ and that he should make a reference to them next time he spoke to the press, saying how much he appreciated their support.

He and my brother did manage one successful blag on Tuesday – as revenge for Aaron’s business advisor ringing my brother Jonathan two years ago.

“Hi Jonathan,” he said. “Hertha Berlin have been watching you closely. They have had to cut their budgets right back and buy cheaper players, but they are looking for a big centre-forward like you. Would you be interested in playing in Germany and helping them push for a Champions League place?”

Mitten (L): "Hertha Berlin? Yeah... good one"

My brother was playing in the North West Counties League at the time, but believed the caller. Because he wanted to believe the caller. He even discussed the move with his girlfriend and they agreed that they would try and learn German and that he’d give up being a plumber. He was so devastated when he found out it was a blag that I actually felt guilty.

While the professional game may have passed him by, things are looking good for our youngest brother, who turned 14 on Sunday. Three games into playing for Stockport Country and, in the words of his coach, “playing with category A rather than category C players for the first time,” he’s the top scorer in his age group.

There’s a long, long way to go, but he’s giving himself a chance…

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Spanish Jacks, James Brown, Oasis and Plymouth (again)

2008-09-29T14:00:00Z

Greetings from sunny Stockholm, capital of Sweden. I was travelling for most of last week, meeting interesting types.

I'm seeing Jesper Blomqvist again later; we're halfway through a four-hour interview, having watched the Milanese derby together last night (he used to play for the Rossoneri before joining Manchester United).

He’s invited me to watch the team he manages in Sweden’s second division tonight: they're bottom of the league and play the team above them. Tomorrow I’ll fly to Denmark to watch the red-shirted heroes at AaB.

Young Jesper at AC Milan. See?

First, though, I’ve got a bit of time to kill in a coffee shop before I meet Jesper again. If I can keep my eyes on my keyboard and not be distracted by the stream of perfect blondes walking into the establishment, I’ll give you a Perfect XI of people I’ve met on my travels in the last week, in chronological order.

1. Andrea Orlandi, the Barcelona-born Swansea City player. We met after the Swansea vs Cardiff game, at which he was on the bench. I am indebted to his girlfriend, who went to Tesco at 11pm to buy some food so that she could make a meal. They both speak good English, but the Swansea accent throws them.

2. Jordi Gomez, another Barcelona-born Swansea player, on loan from Espanyol. Andrea introduced me to him after the game in which he scored the only goal against arch-rivals Cardiff. He was friendly enough, but the significance of the moment was wasted on him.

3. Kris O’Leary, Swansea’s longest-serving player and a lifelong fan from nearby Port Talbot. Scoring the winner wouldn't have been wasted on him, but he didn’t make the squad against Cardiff. Kris is a great lad; Swansea fans should chip in and have a statue of him made by the Swansea Jack pub.

Kris O'Leary (right) gets stuck in for his beloved Jacks

4. Ian Rush, the former Chester, Juventus, Newcastle and Wales striker. I found myself sat next to him in the pressroom at Swansea. He was very friendly, so I didn't tell him that I used to stand on the Stretford End singing “Oh we’d like to know where Rush got his nose from” (to the tune of The Hues Corporation’s soul classic Rock the Boat), nor that for much of the 1980s I hated him more than any individual on Earth.

5. Matt, the lad who designed the covers for the first three Oasis albums. He’s from Wigan and supports the Latics. When the team played at Springfield Park, he went home and away, but he and his mates now find the whole Premiership experience a turn-off.

6. James Brown, who I mentioned last week. The former Loaded editor was hoping that his beloved Leeds would be drawn with the European champions in the next round of whatever the League Cup is called these days: “It’ll be great, we’ll bring thousands and I think we’ll give you a real go. We’ve got a good team.”

They'd bring far, far more than the few hundred Middlesbrough fans who made it to Old Trafford last Tuesday. Now that Leeds no longer appears as an option on his favourite computer game, he chooses to play as Tottenham as they also play in white and have several ex-Leeds players.

But Leeds weren't paired with United in Saturday’s draw, as United don’t get interesting cup draws these days.

James Brown: Spurs player by default

7. Joyce Woolridge, the Mancunian writer who wrote Brian McClair’s season diary a decade ago and lives on the same Bristol street as one of Massive Attack in a house full of books. She writes for When Saturday Comes and has written for United We Stand for 13 years.

She was saying what a gent the former Man United and Scotland striker Joe Jordan is and admiring the cuts on his suits, which she thinks he picked up while playing for Milan. I think she fancies him.

8. Trevor, the Dagenham and Redbridge secretary. I was driving through Dagenham towards Grays on the Thames Estuary when I decided to pop in unannounced. He probably thought I was a burglar, but he was friendly and gave me an update on his club, who are flying high in League 2.

9. Paul Parker, the former Fulham, QPR, Man United and England defender. He welcomed me to his manor in Essex ahead of doing a feature with him on Setanta’s coverage of the Grays vs Stevenage game. I left a notepad and a book at his house; at 7.45am the following morning he called to ask where I wanted it posting.

"Forgotten something, Andy?"

10. Peter Taylor, the former England manager. At Grays I followed him up a ladder overlooking suburban back gardens into a television gantry.

11. A Southend United groundsman. I had time to kill so took a look at Canvey Island and then Southend. I walked in an open door at Roots Hall and said “Alright mate.” He grunted but didn’t tell me to leave. On the nearby seafront, stalls sold whelks and jellied eels by the world’s longest pier.

Sub: Bojan Djordjic, the former Man United player now playing for AIK Stockholm in Sweden. He swore like a trooper but was very friendly. He’s currently injured so we met at the AIK game yesterday in Stockholm, where he talked about United, Rangers, Red Star Belgrade and Plymouth.

Another lad came up to me in a pub last night and said: “Do you speak English, mate?” He was a Plymouth fan who had arrived in Stockholm that day. Why do I keep bumping into people associated with Plymouth Argyle?

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From Cantona to Grays via Swansea vs Cardiff

2008-09-22T16:00:00Z

I’m leaving the rain of Barcelona for the sun of Bristol on Tuesday morning, before driving to Swansea to watch the big game against Cardiff for FourFourTwo’s ‘More Than A Game’ feature.

I’ll return for the league game in November and meet up with the lads from Cardiff’s Soul Crew the night before.

For this first game, my focus will be on Swansea City. The club have been exceptionally friendly to deal with so far and I’ve got interviews lined up with players, journalists and fans.

Alan Tate and 'that flag' - 2006 LDV Vans Trophy final

Andrea Orlandi is one of several Spanish Swans and someone I know from Barcelona, where he played once for the first team. He also performed for Alaves. I was going to get in touch, but he texted on Saturday to say that we should meet up so I’ll see him after the game.

I’d imagine what happens next will depend on the result. If Swansea beat Cardiff then the city should be lively. If not, well, let’s see.

Andrea is a talented professional who was hampered by injuries last season. He played on Saturday against Burnley though so hopefully he will play against Cardiff.

“The game against Cardiff is a big game for us,” he said. No sh*t!

Orlandi: Has been swotting up on the south Wales derby

On Wednesday, I’ll interview Swansea’s longest serving player Kristian O’Leary at their training ground. He’s the only one who has played against Cardiff before and is a Manchester United fan.

Then I’ll drive the length of the M4 to London ahead of Thursday’s game between Grays and Stevenage. I’ll catch up with James Brown in London. He’s Leeds, but he’s a decent lad. He started Loaded magazine and then edited GQ, bought Viz and founded (the now sadly defunct) JACK magazine.

He once told me that Stephen McPhail would be a better player than Roy Keane. McPhail, formerly of Leeds, should play for Cardiff at Swansea.

Brown came to stay last year with his son and used my computer to go on a Leeds messageboard. He inadvertently left the computer on and had written: “I’m in enemy territory surrounded by Man U (that’s Manchester United, the European champions) books and a picture of Eric Cantona. There’s even Granada Reports on the tele and Lancashire cheese in the fridge!”

On Thursday, I’ll head east to Grays to do a fly on the wall feature on how Setanta cover a game. Paul Parker and Steve Bower, who was at MUTV, will be doing the commentary so I’ll shadow them and observe with the photographer I last worked with in Marseille.

Grays' Recreation Ground: It's no Marseille...

From Eric Cantona by the Med in July to a non-league game by the Thames Estuary at the end of September…

I’ve never been to Grays before, though I saw them destroy Altrincham in the FA Trophy when my brother played there three years ago. They rose to non-league’s top flight where they have stayed, but they’ve just been hit with the resignation of their owner, manager and chairman Mick Woodward.

Should be interesting…

Guardiola, Corrie and Kelly Brook

2008-09-19T13:00:00Z

I’ve watched Barca twice this week at the Camp Nou, first in the 1-1 draw against Racing Santander (who, trivia buffs, count singer Paul Heaton as a fan) when Thierry Henry didn’t even make the bench and also in Tuesday’s 3-1 win against Sporting Lisbon when he started.

These are interesting and uncertain times at Barcelona, the mood reflected by sub 60,000 crowds for the first time in president Joan Laporta’s five-year reign. New manager Pep Guardiola is being given a chance, his bank of goodwill credit still very full with Catalans who have fond memories of him as a player and all round Catalanista.

Barcelona: The Wigan of La Liga...?

Guardiola was a great midfielder, criminally underrated outside Catalonia and he’s a fascinating character, with clear ideas of how football should be played the Barca way. The Cruyff influence is clear and understandable given he joined Barca at the age of 12.

In a weird column this week, Cruyff described the Santander game as one of the best he had seen in years. I’ll bow to his far greater knowledge, but it wasn’t.

Guardiola likes to be his own man though. Outside of football, one of his hobbies is writing poetry and he taught himself English, though he’ll never tell anyone.

The only reason I know is that the actor Lee Boardman (one time pseudo gangster Jez Quigley on Coronation Street and now voiceover man for the guilty pleasure that is Road Wars) once came to Barcelona to interview him.

Meeting 'Quiggers' ... Pep's career highlight

Guardiola isn’t always happy with his lot, which includes females from Girona to Tarragona fancying the Armani’s off him, and was being, well, a bit arsey with Lee, who he considered a mere journalist. That all changed when Lee told him he was an actor. Pep was then much keener to impress and Lee spoke very highly of the latest king of Catalonia.

But Laporta is a different character. I’ve never had any problems in dealings with him, but I knew him when he was a ‘mere’ fan who ran a protest group called the Blue Elephant which was trying unseat Barça’s then ruling Nunez regime.

Laporta suckered up to Manchester United fans - fans he now ignores. When he was running for president in 2003 he couldn’t speak to enough journalists – he told one English hack that he couldn’t talk at that moment but suggested they went for lunch.

I suspect the English hack regrets saying that wouldn’t be possible as he had a Spanish class. That’s like telling Kelly Brook that you won’t accept her invitation to join her in bed as you’ve just blown up an inflatable which you’ll use instead.

Kelly Brook: Almost certainly better than an inflatable

Within minutes of Racing equalising and the six-strong Santander press posse going mental - causing their Catalan colleagues to stand up and tell them to shut up as it wasn’t appropriate to celebrate in a press box - the Barca Ultras behind the goal were singing “Barca Yes, Laporta No.”

Following waves of resignations and sackings, Laporta has become a more isolated figure. Plotters are many, but the strength of anti-Laporta sentiment will depend on results.

Because, sadly, that’s all what most fans are bothered about.

City fans fume at derby day omission

2008-09-16T13:00:00Z

The Manchester Evening News did a feature on Mad For It last Thursday.

I had a straightforward chat with a good journalist about the book and rivalries. A local angle was put in the piece, the emphasis on the future of the Manchester derby given City’s new owners.

As well as being in the paper, the feature was then posted as a headline… on the Manchester City section of their website. The paper knew it would cause a stir. It did.

Bigger than the Manchester derby?

It was one of the most read articles last week and 179 people have so far felt the need to reply – most of them part of the hydra-headed massive in blue. I read through all of them yesterday. Here’s a selection of my favourites:

“This book is just another reason of why MANURE are disliked"
A Manc and blue

“Whats Old Trafford on a Saturday at 4.45pm and Wormwood Scrubs got in common? ANSWER: They are both full of Cockneys trying to get out."
Seven Stars Smooth Blue, Manchester

“Whisper it - the swamp dwellers are rattled.
I can smell the fear."

LOVIN' IT!!!
Fifth column blue (within smelling distance of the swamp), Trafford”

“Andy Muppet (sorry Mitten) is displaying the typical utd fan behaviour/mindset.

Nice try, but it won't wash, the only reason you are saying Liverpool is a more important game is that you have a better record against them than you do against City over the last few seasons."
bigusdickus, Brighton

“the venom coming out of the new BITTERS mouths is a sight to behold,why is this?Ive noticed a distinct quietness among my many United friends,why is this?Fergie payed over the odds for the smoking mard *rse,why is this?4 words my bitter red Herberts-MANCHESTER CITY FOOTBALL CLUB."
francis lee's bellybutton, Manchester

“Hahahaha....Andeh Mittohn, a typical arrrogant divvy Utd looking goon.

What does this 20yr old kid know about Manchester derbies and their history ?..... trying so hard at being a top boy Mancunian, stop it you big girl."
simon23

“Ha ha ha Andy would obviously state the DERBY isn't a great fixture these days considering the fact for example last season CITY won both games - deary deary me these are ill timed comments indeed. HOW I LOOK FORWARD TO ANOTHER SIX POINTS FOR CITY THIS COMING SEASON......"
ted knott, droylsden

“this idiot is just another london glory hunter how he can even say liverpool v utd is the derby is a joke but then again the rags are not from manchester are they? so the idiot could have a point after all

1-0 1-2 i bet that hurt alot more than they like to let on red scum

just look at his face on that pic doesnt homer simpson spring to mind? DOH
Bluetobitz

“this muppet knows nothing derby has always means two local sides against each other it does not mean anything to most united fans because most dont come from manchester simple as that, to not put City V United derby in his book is a discrace to all fans from manchester, City and United."
Bart the Blue,Springfield USA

“What a total prat. Doesn't know squiddly about squat. Mr whatever your name is, you are the singular of the toolbar prompt which is nestled between Favourites and Help at the top of my screen"
Peter Barnes

"Mitten, you don't know what you're talkin' about..."

It appears I’ve incurred the ire of City’s intelligentsia, attracting so many concise and well-reasoned points from what seem like thoroughly decent and emotionally balanced individuals. Therefore I must be wrong.

Another poster (I’ve spared your eyes) left his caps lock to deride me JUST SO I KNOW WHAT AN ARROGANT RAG MUPPET I AM!!!!!

Either that or the evil Ferguson will be to blame for the keyboard slip, him and the rest plotting with a United obsessed media to undermine City, Manchester’s true club, the richest in the world with the best fans bar none. I mean, which other fans could improvise with Arab head wear at such short notice?

A blue mate emailed: “I’m cringing with embarrassment at the posts of my fellow fans. Always thought your fan base had more clowns than the rest, but we’re giving you a good run.”

What can he possibly be getting at?

Lost Pilgrims, City oil slickers & Carra gold

2008-09-10T11:00:00Z

Two men stood in the street by my house looking confused last Friday afternoon.

Wearing Lacoste t-shirts and small enamel badges, I figured that they were English football fans in Barcelona to watch the Andorra game. I offered to help as they struggled over a map by the metro they’d just exited.

Through a mixup of names, they were miles from where they wanted to be. It wasn’t like getting a train to Liverpool Street and thinking it was Liverpool, but Gracia station to Passeig de Gracia is longer than the trek to the away end at Aldershot.

"It's that way, lads"

We got talking as I showed them the way. Jason and Chris were Plymouth Argyle fans who also watch England home and away. It’s not often you get members of the famous Green Army marching through the streets of Gracia. I’d last seen Plymouth when they beat Sunderland two years ago and then manager Ian Holloway offered to buy every one of the travelling fans a pint. Loads took him up on his offer.

The fans offered to buy me a beer for pointing them on their way, but we arranged to meet later, away from the dire, overpriced Irish bars of Calle Ferran by La Rambla where most visiting British football fans gather. Whisper it quietly, but I'd rather a night with proper fans than the En-ger-land tabloid pack.

The Plymouth fans told stories of 10 hour bus trips to Ipswich, two-day away games in the north east, banning orders, Argyle goalscoring legend Tommy Tynan being a taxi driver in Plymouth, the Pilgrim fathers and their rivalries with Bristol City and Exeter.

"It's that Mitten bloke again"

The following day, they joined the other 10,000 England fans (and 14,000 Coldplay devotees who performed next door to the Olimpic Stadium while England laboured) while I managed 60 minutes for Manchester La Fianna in a 6-1 victory at Sitges, our first pre-season friendly.

Our goalkeeper is a Manchester City fan who hails from Wythenshawe and flies back for plenty of matches so he was feeling happy at this season’s City takeover, which naturally had United fans talking.

United We Stand’s website registered its busiest ever time last week and I had a lot of work writing pieces about the likely effects on the Manchester rivalry and calls from Spanish radio stations to explain just who Manchester City were. Cheers, City.

United’s biggest game remains Liverpool, not City, and the 18 times champions (them) meet the 17 times champions (us) at Anfield on Saturday. There’s been a lot of interest in Mad For It, partly as the first chapter is about Liverpool vs United. That’s meant interviews from Sweden in the north to Tenerife in the south.

Scousers will no doubt delight in the news that Jamie Carragher’s new autobiography has knocked Mad For It off the top of the football charts. I’m not surprised though given the success of his mate Gerrard’s book. Autobiographies of Liverpool players are far more frank and easily outsell those of United players.

I won’t be at Anfield as I’ll be watching Barça’s first home game against Racing, followed by the visit of Sporting Lisbon and work travels in a few weeks to Swansea vs Cardiff, Grays vs Stevenage (I’ll explain that one nearer the time), a big game in Stockholm followed by an interview with Jesper Blomqvist, then Aalborg vs United in Denmark.

But first, I need to pin down Villarreal’s press officer for that interview with Giuseppe Rossi she has been promising for six days…

Cantona, Dinho, Shots, Bantams and... soap

2008-09-03T15:00:00Z

Gaz and Wendy Knight got lucky.

On my way to interview Eric Cantona in Marseille in July (to be published in the November issue of FourFourTwo, in shops October 1), I popped into an internet café. Gaz, a long time friend, had emailed to say he and his wife were holding a charity football match in August to help raise funds for SANDS: Stillbirth and Neonatal Death Society.

Last year, their son Ged was stillborn at 37 weeks. It was fresh in my mind and I told Cantona about the couple and asked him to sign something which could be auctioned.

“I would like to do this,” replied the King, except there was nothing like a shirt or poster to sign. We were in the conference room of a Marseille hotel, stood by a large flip chart of A2 paper.

“Just write something on there,” I said, eyeing the big felt markers.

“What?” he asked.

“You’ve just told me that you’re an artist. Show it,” I replied. “Or write a message to the people of Manchester.”

With that, Eric did a Miro-esque squiggle and a message. So as not to crease it, I ‘borrowed’ the hotel’s roll of flip chart paper and tucked Eric’s work in the middle.

Eric 'the Artist' Cantona churns out another masterpiece

Smartly framed, that squiggle was auctioned for £2,500 on Sunday. I would have been happy with a tenth of that – which is what a signed Ruud van Nistelrooy shirt went for.

Norman Whiteside, another former United great, turned up to support the couple and got impressively inebriated before telling a load of mates: “You know what lads, I’m just a working class lads like you lot. I’m just United!” With that, the Shankhill Skinhead’s stock rose even higher in West Manchester.

I wasn’t there. Instead I was playing cricket in Oxford at Jim White’s 50th birthday. Jim’s a United fan who writes for The Daily Telegraph. Other guests included another Red, the BBC’s Newsnight editor Michael Crick and Roger Alton, editor of the Independent.

By getting bowled out for a duck, I made a fool of myself in front of all. I’ve played cricket twice so my humiliation wasn’t surprising, but I also injured my foot fielding, an injury which stopped me training as Manchester La Fianna’s pre-season got underway last night.

There were eight or nine new faces and a similar number of players have moved on – to live in pastures new or, in the case of Dinho, join Spanish third division side Lleida, where Juande Ramos used to manage.

Dinho wasn’t offered a contract in South Africa with Ajax Cape Town after his trial. I hear his attitude could have been far better. To break the ice, we held a penalty competition and everyone who missed had to stand up and describe the worst girl they’d ever slept with.

The sight of shaking heads descending into hands became common, something I also saw in Hampshire on Saturday watching Aldershot vs Bradford in League Two.

The Recreation Ground: They don't make 'em like this anymore

It was a superb experience. Baked in sunshine, a crowd of nearly 4,000 saw the Shots win 3-2 against the early league leaders. The walk to the away end took in a winding country path and once inside, Bradford’s sizeable following created a din to match the Ultras in the home end.

A traditional ground with pylon floodlights, terracing, pay on the gate and Bradford’s excellent City Gent fanzine being sold, it was a joy to attend.

Tradition added to the enjoyment, though even Aldershot have moved with the times. I’m not sure what was more bizarre – seeing fans stand obediently within a designated smoking area (a box marked in paint on open tarmac), or having a choice of three soaps or moisturisers in the away end toilets.

When you’ve witnessed the stinking, airless, lightless urinals of the away end at Derby’s former Baseball Ground, it seems like another world.

Monaco woe, Aldershot and oddballs

2008-08-28T14:00:00Z

Manchester United play in the European Super Cup in Monaco on Friday and I can’t go. I’m gutted.

I’ve not missed a European away game for ages and it’s not difficult to travel from Barcelona. There’s a train for £74 which skirts the Mediterranean coast and stops for a leisurely two hours in Montpellier, scene of Clayton Blackmore’s greatest moment in 1991 when he struck a shot two nautical miles from the Herault goal.

To make matters worse, some mates are going who don’t usually get to European aways and I’ve had two offers of work there and a call from the former United player Andrei Kanchelskis.

He’s up for an interview for my next book about United in the 90s. I’m starting it now and aim to have it finished by next May. Andrei will be there for Russian television as United’s opponents are Zenit St. Petersburg. Russia’s second city of five million is twinned with Manchester.

Blackmore: Great tash

But I can’t go. A close friend is 50 at the weekend and he’s having a party in Oxford. We arranged the trip in February at a time when I didn’t think about the European Super Cup. I’ve looked at lots of permutations of getting from Monaco to Oxford, but it’s not happening. Flights and hire cars have already been booked, so I’ll miss it.

Instead, we’ll fly to Gatwick late on Friday night and as compensation I’ll watch Aldershot vs Bradford City at the Recreation Ground on Saturday.

I’d like to offer some justification for going. The Bradford striker Peter Thorne is the same age and from the same part of Manchester. Or that Aldershot fullback Lewis Chalmers used to play with my brother at Altrincham. But I’d be lying.

I’m going partly because I’m a freak and partly because I’ve not been to the Recreation Ground before. My girlfriend understands it as ‘work’ so I’ll take her to somewhere like Windsor Castle beforehand before setting out for Aldershot.

I’ve told two people I’m going. One said: “Aldershot’s awful, my brother was based there with the army.” The other: “Aldershot will be fun, they have a very strange entrance for the away fans that's worth checking it out... you have to go around the ground, up a hill, into a wooded park, and then down a little dark and windy path and into the ground. Quite odd.”

The first was a girl, the second an AFC Wimbledon fan.

Aldershot: "Awful" or "fun" depending who you ask

Ground-hopping is an affliction I’ve had since I was a kid when I watched my dad play non-league around the country and would draw diagrams of the grounds when I got home. Sad to say, I could describe every stand at every clubs in the England’s top five levels.

A mate rang yesterday. He’d been to see FC United play at Buxton last Saturday and was raving about his day out.

“Great town,” he said, thinking that I’d not been. I went along with it, but didn’t tell him that a decade ago, I caught a train from London to Macclesfield, visited the grave of Ian Curtis before getting a taxi over the Cat & Fiddle (the most dangerous road in Britain) to the Derbyshire spa town. Alone. Through driving rain. I kept myself to myself, but was spotted in the main stand by the Flixton manager who shouted, “What the *** are you doing here?” Then he invited me on the players’ bus back to Manchester.

Although I’m a bit of an oddball, I’m not compared to some. Like the Trafford fan ‘Rain Man’. A former Trafford player and Manchester legend/ticket tout Chris Simms has a story about Rain Man.

“We played at Whitley Bay near Newcastle one night in February. There were no away fans. I went to take a corner and I heard: ‘Simmo! Simmo!’ I looked around and couldn’t see anything. Then I heard it again. I spotted Rain Man’s head above a concrete fence. He’d hauled himself up and was shouting, ‘I’ve spent all my money on petrol for my motorbike getting here. I can’t get in the ground.’” Simmo made sure he did.

Whitley Bay: Can be a bit grim in February

One lad who goes to United is on another level. We’ll call him Stuart Trueman. He’s a bright, handsome, well-dressed casual who takes his two kids and girlfriend to every single Manchester United first team matches, United reserve games and FC United games home and away.

If none of these teams are playing he’ll go to a Manchester United youth team game or to see another competitive match, usually somewhere near his Lancashire home like Blackburn, Burnley or Darwen.

Psychologists would love to examine his brain, for he also supports Roma and lists his two heroes as Francesco Totti and Ryan Giggs.

Go figure.