The City Paradox: From Underdog Charm to the Premier League’s Most Divisive Legacy

It may strike readers as almost inconceivable, given the turmoil the club is now causing across English football, but there was a time when Manchester City captured the imagination of the wider nation.

From the outset, questions lingered about the source of their funding and the distorting influence that Abu Dhabi’s vast financial resources would exert on the Premier League. Those questions have now been definitively answered by the independent commission, which found City guilty of 114 of 115 alleged breaches of financial regulations. Yet, even amid the scrutiny, it was difficult not to be swept up in the excitement during the closing stretch of the 2011–12 campaign, as this newly wealthy side appeared to finally shake the jinx that had haunted them since the days at Maine Road.

Long before the takeover, before the extravagant spending and the geopolitical entanglements, City’s identity was that of a club perpetually tripping over itself. This was the team that, in the dying minutes of the 1995–96 season, settled into a draw they believed would keep them safe in the top flight when, in fact, a victory was required. As the only club ever to be demoted as the reigning English champions, it was understandable that their supporters developed a dark, self-deprecating humour, coining the term “City-itis” to describe the club’s seemingly inescapable misfortune. Cast eternally in the shadow of their more illustrious and successful neighbours, their defining refrain was a cheeky nod to the Invisible Man: “We’re not really here, just like the fans of the Invisible Man, we’re not really here.”

Even with the wealth of a nation-state at their disposal, City could not shake their psychological burdens. Hovering on the edge of their first league title in 44 years, they stumbled dramatically around April, surrendering seven points from nine against Stoke City, Sunderland, and Arsenal. They surged back into contention with a victory over Manchester United at the Etihad, and then, once again, they nearly derailed themselves, trailing Queens Park Rangers 2–1 as the clock crept past the 90th minute.

Most readers will be familiar with the conclusion. Even now, as the questionable origins of that title and the six that followed come into sharper focus, there remains value in appreciating the sheer drama of “Aguerooooo” on the final day of the season, a moment of late-season tension surpassed only by the famous 1989 derby at Anfield. The significance extended far beyond those in sky blue; it resonated across the entire football community. Anyone with even a passing interest in the game likely remembers exactly where they were when City completed their remarkable comeback.

Regardless of allegiance, there was a shared thrill in the moment. Manchester United, the long-dominant force of English football, had been dethroned on their own patch by their loud, irritating neighbours. For fans who were not supporting United, the last two decades had been defined by a quiet hope that someone, anyone, other than Ferguson’s side would claim the crown. To witness the very club that United had long treated with such dismissal finally prevail was an experience that left a lasting impression, no matter which shirt one wore.

City’s unusual standing among neutral supporters persisted well into the period when serious doubts emerged about how the club had elevated itself into the financial elite. It is as though the footballing public had an innate understanding of what the independent panel’s meticulous work ultimately confirmed: the achievements of Roberto Mancini, Manuel Pellegrini, and Pep Guardiola were, in one way or another, fundamentally compromised.

Jamie Carragher was correct when he noted in March that City had become the neutral’s preferred side in their title contest with Arsenal. He simply misdiagnosed the underlying reason. While the broader footballing world may have resented the physical, defensively compact style that frustrated opposing teams so badly, it was Guardiola who held the swing voters’ sympathy, and the reason was simpler than the tactical one: City were not Arsenal. Any triumph for the former could be dismissed with the rationale that the competitive landscape had never been level, meaning those titles would always carry a mark of doubt. The same logic applied when Jürgen Klopp’s Liverpool attempted to keep pace with the Etihad juggernaut.

Of course, no one was quietly hoping for a City win in a cup final against Watford or Crystal Palace. But when a club’s success could be rationalised as tainted, why not lean into that narrative? If your own team stood no realistic chance of winning the league, why not favour the one you suspected was not playing by the established rules?

This was not a club that provoked the same level of animosity as the United side they had defeated so dramatically 14 years earlier. In practical terms, most football supporters living outside the Greater Manchester region were far more likely to endure the smugness of a triumphant Arsenal or Liverpool fan than to encounter one with a Manchester City allegiance. Watching City lift a trophy represented the most palatable outcome in a footballing ecosystem that appears increasingly unable to deliver genuinely uncomplicated stories of sporting merit. Every supporter of a traditional powerhouse could watch City raise a trophy and murmur to themselves, “At least it was not our biggest rivals.”

And that particular mindset, cultivated by the great City controversy, is a corrosive force that will endure into whatever post-punishment era may come. Conspiracy thinking comes naturally to football fans whose weekends can be shaped by the subjective interpretations of the referee on the pitch. It is easy to attribute every setback a club has endured to the notion that the opposition simply cheated. Now, well, there is one team for which that explanation has been officially validated.

How can a fan’s eyes be trusted to believe what they witness in the future when what they witnessed in the past has been shown to be so clearly unreliable? That is far from the only dimension in which City have damaged the league, but the corrosive effect they have had on the narratives the footballing nation tells itself is no less significant than the financial disorder they have left in their wake.

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