You might have heard, but I am a Tottenham Hotspur fan. There reason for it, as I have no personal connection to the club, is that I mistakenly believed that Tottenham was the closest Premier League team to Abbey Road. (That would be Arsenal.) But once you pick your club, it’s your club for life. (I didn’t make the rules, I just live within them.)
I am aware that one of the local supporter’s club, NYSpurs, meets up at Flannery’s on 14th Street to watch all matches. I have thought about going to hang out and watch one, but that would require that I go there by myself, as I have no other Spurs fan to go with. My wife and daughter support my fandom, but not enough to go to a bar at 7am to cheer on my club.
Every now and then, I see someone on the street with some Tottenham gear on. Like a hat, sweater, scarf, but never seen a jersey. Every time I see a person decked out, I think I should say something, but I never follow through.
Then last Friday, when I was on my way to pick up the kid, a woman stepped out of her building and she had a Tottenham sweater. Now was my chance to connect with another fan. You know; #COYS
So, I said to her as I pointed to her sweater, “Hey, you’re a Tottenham fan.” Big smile on my friendly face.
Followed by a scowl with a British accent, “What!? What do you want?”
“The, ah… You have a Tottenham sweater, and I was saying…”
“Oh!” She smiled at me. “The jumper! It’s my husbands. He’s the fan. It’s not my thing. I was just cold.”
So much for trying to talk to another fan.
I’ll just keep it to myself.
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