Manchester City’s past players are grieving for the club they thought they knew

The first stage of grief is denial. “I believe in the innocence of the club,” said Rodri last Friday, as news broke that an independent commission had found Manchester City guilty of more than 100 breaches of Premier League rules between 2009 and 2018. “What we did, they cannot take out of us.” Then comes bargaining. “I’m very proud of what I did with Manchester City and what we achieved as a team, and that doesn’t change,” said Joe Hart a few days later. “That doesn’t change until you tell me.” Then comes the anger, the depression. “I saw the words which were used by the Premier League – ‘sham contracts’ – and I felt absolutely devastated,” said Micah Richards , after the commission’s 40-page core decision was published. “I was at that club since I was 14 years old, I would die for that club … absolutely devastating. The words they use are heartbreaking. They are damning. I feel saddened, I feel angry.” As the brutal reality of Manchester City’s industrial-scale cheating was laid out in black and white, your first thought probably wasn’t for their past players. Rival clubs were denied titles and prize money, and in some cases stripped of their stars. Fans of all colours have been sold a lie for years. Hundreds of City staff are now embarrassed, confused and worried about their future. Joe Hart celebrates Sergio Aguero's famous winner against QPR at the Etihad Stadium (Reuters) Whereas, the players? They enjoyed the glories of City’s success on the pitch. They enjoyed riches off it too. Many of City’s best players joined after the whistleblower Rui Pinto made the club’s financial gymnastics public. The leaked memos, the incriminating emails, it was all out there, and they signed anyway. Is there any great difference between signing for City under the ownership of the Abu Dhabi regime, and signing for, say, Al-Hilal under the backing of the Saudi Arabian regime? There’s just a little more sporting credibility in playing for one of Europe’s best teams. And yet there is something interesting in the reactions of past players, something raw and human. Partly, they are defending the club they played for, the club that lifted them to new heights, the club that treats them like royalty whenever they return. Partly, they are trying to preserve the legitimacy of their medals and titles, which are under threat of permanent erasure from the record books. But really they are defending their entire reality, which they instinctively feel is coming under attack. For many of the City players who enjoyed long and distinguished periods of service over the past two decades, their identity is wrapped up in those seasons, the trophy parades, the pictures and the memories. They lived through those moments. Many gave their peak years to a rotten cause, so they grieve for what they might lose. Joe Hart and David Silva celebrate after winning the 2011/12 title (Getty) The fabric of their success is eroded with each guilty charge. Hart was roundly mocked on social media for his wilful blindness in the face of City’s guilt, but then, how else would he react? It is only natural to dig in, deny, swear allegiance to the Death Star. Hart went on to win titles with Celtic, and is carving a successful career as a pundit with an eye for football’s little details. But he is, first and foremost, the goalkeeper at the other end of the pitch as Sergio Aguero’s goal won City their first Premier League title in 2012 in the most dramatic fashion. Hart was inside a stadium of 50,000 people with an entire half to himself, running with arms outstretched, gloves clenched, screaming, glancing over his shoulder to check it was real, then screaming, then checking again. That goal now faces an existential threat, and so does everything that came with it, that came before and followed after. How far will the Premier League go? Will City’s titles be wiped? Will the goals, the assists, the clean sheets still count? Will Kevin De Bruyne’s player of the season award mean less knowing City couldn’t afford to buy him? Should Vincent Kompany be struck out of the league’s Hall of Fame? Will Vincent Kompany’s legacy be tarnished? (Reuters) And, for all the sporting implications, what has become increasingly obvious over the past few days is just how big this thing goes. Look at the headlines. Prime minister Andy Burnham is concerned about losing Abu Dhabi’s money in Manchester. City’s chairman Khaldoon al-Mubarak has diplomatic immunity . Etihad Airways is exploring legal action against the Premier League, which effectively means the UAE government is threatening to sue Britain’s most valuable sporting product. It is all a reminder, as if one was needed one nearly two decades in, that the modern Manchester City was a project designed to give Abu Dhabi a foothold in British sport, culture, property and economics, and – ironically – to strengthen credibility. It was a project that spiralled out of control, whose architects knowingly broke the rules to achieve their goals. The fifth stage of grief is acceptance, and in time City’s players will come to realise they were just pawns in a much bigger game.