Excuse the sentimentality.
I went to the Spurs game in May but it was shit. Everything about it was horrible really, except getting to clap Fuchs and Morgan with the FA Cup. If you missed it, you didn't miss much.
Aside from that, I haven't been to a football match since 9th March 2020. I haven't been in a proper crowd for longer than at any time since I first went to a game 43 years ago.
In the intervening time, I've been mostly stuck at home. I've watched hundreds of football matches, far too many really, but none of them have done much for me. The FA Cup final aside, watching TV football has been wholly unsatisfactory. From pressing buttons to try to remove the fake crowd noise through to developing a habit of falling asleep when I watch almost any game. It's just a second rate experience.
Whilst I've been dozing and hiding away, lots of people have been suffering. There will be at least a couple of hundred people (probably more) I shared that 9th March 2020 experience with that will never see a match again. We've lost a lot of people over the last 18 months, and not just to Covid. Add to those the supporters that have moved away, aged or fallen out of love with it all. There will be a lot of missing faces this afternoon.
I'm very lucky. I was there before and I'll be there again today. In my old seat and hopefully seeing some familiar faces. Today, football will feel normal again for the first time and I'll be making a lot of noise. I'll be berating the referee (it's Pawson after all), our opponents, and maybe even some of our own players. I'll be signing songs that I hope I remember the words to. I hope to be hoarse by five a clock. To be completely honest, the result is secondary to the experience.
But I'll also be quiet for a moment to pay my own respects to those that aren't so fortunate. Those that won't be able to boo or cheer ever again. If this interminable period of time has taught me one thing, it's that I will never, ever, take it all for granted again. Up the City.