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mum was great – we came home from the wedding and Margaret was by then six months pregnant so things were moving fast. We held a little party that night and at around midnight my mum gave me her keys and said she was going to her friends for a week to let us have our ‘honeymoon’ in peace. That was really good of her.
    My first child was a boy. Mark was born in the back bedroom where I sleep now. He was exactly the same birth weight as I was – 4lb 2ozs and came into this world about seven weeks premature. What a story it was as well.
    Margaret and I were playing pitch and putt when Mark decided he could wait no longer. She was having a swing of the club when she went: “ Ohhh !” and immediately I knew something was up. There was no time to get her to hospital. We didn’t think it would actually be the birth so we just hurtled home. We phoned the midwife up straight away because by now her waters had broken. An ambulance arrived but with no incubator so we had to send it back. Mark was born in the house and I cut the umbilical cord myself with a pair of kitchen scissors. I held my baby boy in the air. I couldn’t believe it!
    My mum doted on Mark because he was the first grandchild she had. Boy did she spoil him. Well, it’s only natural I suppose.
    It was great for me too because we had a live-in babysitter in the form of my mum. In fact she used to say: “Are you going out tonight? I’ll babysit !” We lived with my mother for about a year while we saved our pennies. With my mum’s help we bought a little semi in Handforth . It cost £3,250 and on our first night in the house we slept on sun loungers because we had absolutely no furniture. Nothing whatsoever.
    So off we headed back into
Manchester
to a place called Times Furnishing – a big store where you could have whatever you wanted on credit. So now we had some debts plus a mortgage of course and after a while, like a lot of young married couples, we realised we were up to our eyes in debt.
    Eventually I went to see Joe Mercer who helped me out. I paid him £10 a week every week until all the debts had been paid off. It really helped because it was becoming a huge burden on my mind. He said: “All I want you to do is concentrate on your game.” It took me two years to discharge my debts. A hard lesson learnt.
    After I’d cleared my debts I went on to sign a new contract and I’m sure Joe gave me a signing-on bonus just so I could pay him back quicker! I could have kissed him that day, because of what Joe had done for me, it allowed me to pay back every last penny. I re-iterate the whole time was a good lesson, a good learning curve for me.
    Of course Joe didn’t arrive at City until 1965 so forgive me for leaping ahead a bit, but this was an illustration of the kind of club City became, with genial Joe a father figure to me.
    3. A City In Ruins

    I wonder what you have to do to earn a testimonial? Between 1961 and 1971 I scored more goals for
Manchester
City
than any other player in the club’s most glorious period. And though this was to be a decade of considerable achievement for both City and myself – goals, winners’ medals and further additions to my family – I wonder after all that effort why the club haven’t officially recognised my efforts.
    As most of you will know, in the early part of this decade, City were going nowhere fast and as the Les McDowall era became the George Poyser era there seemed little to suggest that the good times were round the corner.
    The 1962-63 season summed up City to a tee. There were some amazing scorelines . The opening day of the season we played Wolves at Molineux and got trounced 8-1. That was when cocky teenager Mike Doyle had a pop at Bert Trautmann and got a clip round the ear for his pains. West Ham at home was another diabolical one, ending in a 6-1 defeat. Yet we still managed to beat Manchester United 3-2 away on September 15.
    This was my derby debut and no one gave us a