“THAT MORNING AS I WOKE UP AND LOOKED OUT OF MY WINDOW, I HAD THIS THOUGHT: I’M GOING TO DO SOMETHING BIG”
Let’s start with euphoria: that moment the goal is scored. I won’t say I knew it was in as soon as I hit it, as that sort of talk is for forwards. But it did feel good. A clean strike. However, with my success record when it comes to shooting, nothing is guaranteed – I had to wait for the ball to hit the net. And then? And then everything gets blurry. Crazy emotions, pure joy, utter relief, and before I know it I’m at the bottom of a sky-blue pile of team-mates. It’s a great moment. It’s the best moment. The Premier League title is one step closer – so close now – and that’s the most important thing. But none of those players on top of me know that this will be my last game at the Etihad Stadium.
The warmth of that May evening will never leave me. But in January, after we had tasted defeat at Newcastle on a cold, snowy night in the North East, it seemed that any hopes of Manchester City retaining the Premier League title had gone. That’s what the experts said, anyway.
Shortly after that 2-1 loss, Pep Guardiola called a meeting. ‘Do you believe we can still win the title?’ he asked us. ‘Do you believe there’s still…’ Before he could finish his sentence, I yelled, ‘Of course we can do it!’ I wasn’t saying it for effect; I wasn’t simply playing the role of the chest-beating captain. I had been part of three previous Premier League-winning
