A form of tribalism
As a teenager, I would go with my father to football matches in London. In the heaving stalls, among the smell of salty hot chips and ketchup, we’d holler for our heroes: Peter Schmeichel and Eric Cantona, Ryan Giggs and Michael Owen.
Unlike most people, however, I was a fair-weather sports fan: I went as much to people-watch – and to witness great play – as to cheer on any one team. Seeing David Beckham score from the halfway line, as I did in that legendary game of 1996, garnered admiration, but I remained agnostic about committing to Manchester United.
I am the exception, though, in British football. For most
