I first started watching Huddersfield Town as a fairly puny 13-year-old.
I was really a Liverpool fan in those days and jumped at the chance of watching Liverpool Reserves play Town’s young hopefuls at Leeds Road.
Although Liverpool won at a canter, 5-1, what I remember most is being threatened with a thumping by a couple of fellow Fartown High School lads who were aware of my Liverpool leanings.
Since then I have followed Town all over the country.
On one occasion, a few years ago, I even gently cajoled my then girlfriend out of bed at 2.30am, on Valentine’s Day, and persuaded her to hop on a train for nine hours to Torquay, the English Riviera.
I know how to treat a girl!
Fortunately we won 1-0 but she never came again.
And it wasn’t just the early hours she didn’t care for.
Imagine travelling back from Colchester on a coach with a load of beered-up young men – and a failed air conditioning system...