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Here’s my story of how I became a supporter of my favorite team. Be sure to share yours.
It was the 21st of December, 1979. I was just 10 years old, living in the remote countryside of Wales a million miles away from the hustle and bustle of America.
That night, one of my best friends Neil invited me to attend a football match along with his father. Little did I know that the experience would change my life.
It was a division two match, which would now be considered the equivalent of the Championship League, between Swansea City and Orient. Swansea was approximately 25 miles away, so we set off by car for the midweek match.
Approaching Swansea’s antiquated Vetch Field ground, my senses were bombarded with the new sights, sounds and smells. The tall floodlight pylons pointing the way to the ground. The approach to the turnstiles where grubby old men collected money and allowed entry to the throngs of people. Walking up the steep embankment of the North Bank, hearing the fans chanting new songs I’ve never heard before and there, suddenly, I saw the expanse of the ground, the green pitch shining from the glare of the floodlights and the thousands of fans dotted around the concrete terracing.
The football that night, I remember, was pretty drab. Swansea lost one-nil to a equally poor side. However, the match and the whole experience was enough to make a permanent impression on me and I’ll never forget the night for the rest of my life.