There was little coverage of Britain in the Soviet media, so I didn't usually hear anything about English football at all while I was there (City were still in the top flight at the time.) Except for once, in December 1990, when I'd gone to the Cosmos Hotel to make a phone call home and, fruitlessly looking for a British newspaper in one of the hotel shops, I heard some Lancashire voices. It turned out that they were builders from Rochdale doing contract work over there. They'd only been there a week and were hating it, but they told me all the football news from the last few weeks. City were top half, your lot second in the table. Oldham were topping the Second Division, and even Rochdale were clinging to the top four in the Fourth.
There weren't yet any Starbucks, or any other western chains apart from MacDonald's and, just recently opened, Pizza Hut. The coffee was almost uniformly awful, and that was when you could actually get a cup-scores of Soviet cafes had closed down in Moscow over the past two decades, and even the Muscovites didn't seem to know exactly why. If you had hard currency you could go to a hotel bar, however. I always had the urge to have an Armenian brandy with mine even mid-morning. If you wanted to save money you could seek out the rouble bar, usually hidden so well somwhere in these vast buildings that the only people who seemed to know about it were the hotel staff, the ubiqitous hotel prostitutes and their pimps. The coffee in these was inferior, but the brandy the same as that which cost you five times as much in Sterling or Dollars.
I like your post, though. I might use it as the basis for the opening of my memoirs when I come to write them.