Tomorrow (almost) all of the male side of the family will be at the first game of the season at Aston Villa.
That's me, and my two sons Jack and Joe (or, to put them in chronological order, Joe and Jack). Not present will be their sister, my oldest daughter, Jessica, who is also a season ticket holder but also has family responsibilities. Which is the youngest male, her son, Connor. Who has yet to be fully infected with the family obsession and therefore has more of a sense of balance (at 5 years old). He believes that the best bit of a visit to Upton Park is the hot dog, and he's often not wrong (and that's not testimony to the quality of the hot dogs). Also not present will be my other daughter, Rebecca, because she managed to escape to Glasgow (but who is also somewhat resistant to the family infection).
Some years ago, there was typically over-the top Sky TV advertising campaign for the new season, featuring a number of extremely overwrought fans celebrating or mourning. The punchline was 'be careful who you choose - it matters'. Cue laughter from my children. Their view was that they never got the opportunity to choose. They were taken to West Ham when they were too young to know any better. By then it was too late, they were condemned to a life of disappointment punctuated by the odd false dawn of hope.
So off we go tomorrow in the hope that our expectations can be wrong.
Until reality bites about 3.05 ....
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