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All my life I’ve longed for a chance to be in here—the VIP suite. To be able to watch the game from so high up, without screaming idiots all around me, to drink a glass of beer without having to watch your back, having to make sure Jonny doesn’t lose it and end up kicking someone’s teeth in. A part of something special. This is where I belong; this is exactly where I thought I’d end up some day. Standing up against the glass with my friends, and looking down at the greatest team that ever played.
But I’m here, much earlier than I anticipated. But instead of celebrating, drinking ice-cold beers, eating smoked salmon appetisers, shouting for Swansea to move their asses, I’m standing against the red door, my shoulder pressed firmly into the thick wood, next to Ginge, making sure that an a
