"What is a club in any case? Not the buildings or the directors or the people who are paid to represent it. It’s not the television contracts, get-out clauses, marketing departments or executive boxes. It’s the noise, the passion, the feeling of belonging, the pride in your city. It’s a small boy clambering up stadium steps for the very first time, gripping his father’s hand, gawping at that hallowed stretch of turf beneath him and, without being able to do a thing about it, falling in love.”
Like many before him, and those to come after him, Martin Hennebery was that small boy in 1961 - as so eloquently and famously illustrated by Bobby Robson - stepping foot inside Ashton Gate for the first time, beginning a love affair that was to span seven decades.
For any Bristol City fan who has regularly walked down Ashton Road or taken a train from Temple Meads to the various EFL outposts around England and Wales, many would have invariably seen or met 'Tinners'; newspaper crammed into his back-pocket and either regaling stories with fans or briskly walking to the ground.
