Let me tell you a story. Cast your minds back to 1968. We are League Champions and those sad Red b@st@rds were stealing our thunder - not for the first time - by playing Benfica in the European Cup final. They lost the toss for choice of colours and chose to play in blue. My father - a life long Blue (it's in the blood you know) - at the time was manager of the Umbro sportswear factory based at 63 Union Street, Stockport. The call came from their Head Office at Wilmslow, "Ken, we're doing the kits for Utd. and I want you at Stockport to do them and we've got to move quickly as they want them for a photo call". Now you can imagine my dad's reaction - like fcuk we will, they can join the queue and wait their turn just like everyone else (except City). Time was ticking by and everyone (except my dad) was getting a bit frustrated. Then the big day came - out came the blue material for the European Cup final shirts. It had been lying about in the factory since the place was built. it was full of dust and cobwebs - in fact the machinists were upset it was being used because they use to cut lengths off the roll to take home for dusters! Yes the scum were being turned out at Wembley dressed in Rags!
Good old dad. God I was proud of him. I couldn't wait to get to school and tell everyone! So the material was marked out and cut. Now before anything could be sewn together the embroidering has to take place. Phone call to Head Office: "what's going on the front of these European Cup final shirts?" was my dad's question. "The City of Manchester Coat of Arms" came the reply, short pause - "Pardon?", "The City of Manchester Coat of Arms", "Over my dead body!" Now this was the insult of all insults. Here's my old man doing his utmost to ridicule the Red b@st@rds by sending them out at Wembley dressed in rags and now they wanted him to put the City of Manchester Coat of Arms on the front. Enough was enough. There is no way on God's earth was my dad having anything to do with that. I still remember him coming home absolutely seething and refusing point blank to do it. Anyway, dad being dad, stood by his guns and the shirts were sent away for the embroidering to be done. I don't know where, and he doesn't know where, but done it was. But we could all sleep at night having the satisfaction of knowing that my dad had turned the Red b@st@rds out in the European Cup final dressed in material that was fit for nothing but Rags!
My dad went on to work for Umbro at Stockport up until he retired, nearly 50 years all told, and still gets great pleasure in telling this story today.
Source:http://www.reddishblues.com
