Finally finished a book of my own

It's taken me a while to finish one of my own books (I have read a fair few of Owen's in the meantime) although I actually finished it whist we had so much time in the hospital with Owen.

This is a series of short essays/stories on the moments and events that caused the various writers to fall in love with football. As is usually the case with this sort of thing some were good, some not so good, some resonated, others I just got through. Reading it though did have me contemplating the catalysts for my own affiliations with going the game.

Although it was Everton that got me interested in football (I had multiple scrap books and sticker albums) it was actually West Brom's 1992-93 season that had me hooked.
I was 16, catching the bus into town to meet up with friends then walking to The Hawthorns and it was the whole experience that got me. The walk to the ground, a program on the way onto the Smethwick End terrace, the toilets(?), the singing, the halftime 'entertainment', the dissection on the walk back into town via the chippy with a copy of the pink on the way. Of course it helped that that season was full on swashbuckling football under Ossie Ardiles, wingers bombing down the flanks to get the ball to 'Super' Bob Taylor. Even now going the game is about more than just the match itself, it's about the sights, the smells, the sounds, the feel of the whole thing with the sense of community and shared hopes and dreams.
...and I've never forgotten that 'Stevie Bull's a tatter.'