Just a quick post about the joys of watching football in person. I'd be lying if I said this was in no way related to the wonderful game at White Hart Lane, where Spurs beat the current Champion's League holders. When I got home and was in bed reflecting on the proceedings I thought how grateful I was to be at the game. Despite the fantastic result, I'm just not sure watching the match on the TV would be the same, despite what Sky might have you believe. 

When I was walking to the ground last night with my friend Alex, you could hear the noise from the stadium from a couple roads away which I haven't heard in years. You can't help but get excited by that. And once we were in the ground the atmosphere was incredible - there was not a quiet moment in 90 odd minutes of football. And in some games you can smell the grass and hear the player's shouts from your seat which only enhances feeling of being there, up close to the action on the pitch. Then there's the banter around you - the fellow fan's opinions that you can't help disagreeing with. And I love the real-time analysis of the game, and the player's performance. The dejected feeling having lost, or the elation of a well deserved victory. 

You always get the armchair suporters talking about the comfort of watching it home, especially in the cold, dark winter nights when you're playing a on Wednesday night but I think they'd be liars if they wouldn't rather be there instead. I realise that not everyone can afford it, or that other circumstances prevent them from going. However, just sometimes you get the wonderful feeling like last night of saying, "I was there"...