I can still remember my seventh birthday, sitting in the garden with family and friends, having had a BBQ, opening my presents. My last one was small and, in all honesty, very un-interesting looking present. At the time I wasn’t to know that it would be one that would affect my entire life. I ran round the garden screaming with excitement, a season ticket in my hand!
I’d been to Spurs several times before, my first game being when I was five in the 1991/1992 season. I’d fallen in love ever since I walked up the stairs and saw the green of the pitch for the first time: I was hooked. And now I was fortunate enough to be going to every home game.
As I’m sure many Spurs fans will remember, the Spurs of the 90’s weren’t always the best; certainly they were nowhere near consistent or challenging at the top of the table. But going to those matches with my Dad became more than about just the match itself. There was growing a tradition. We’d park the car about half a mile from the ground on the industrial estate near the Bill Nicholson Pub (formally the Northumberland Arms) and walk round to ‘La Barca cafe’ on the high road (I always wonder if there’s a ‘The Spurs cafe’ somewhere in Spain). That walk is where we’d discuss everything in life. Every event in my life has been discussed on that walk; from school to jobs to love to life itself. After the game it would be (If we won). Sometimes the only thing that would spoil the day would be the football itself.
With the team not seeming to improve we’d get to March and wonder whether or not to renew the tickets for the next season. But it had become a part of our life that we couldn’t let go.
The 2012/2013 season is our eighteenth season sitting in the East upper, Block D, Row 6, Seats 91 and 92. The club is finally on the verge of greatness. Regular Champions League football beckons. Dad and I are already looking forward to walking round to a cafe near the Nou Camp; discussing Love, Life and Lillywhites.
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