It was in January 1985 when with my son Xan, who was seven at the time, I first entered the Loftus Road Stadium in west London. Neither of us had been to a proper, professional football match before, but Xan had become obsessed by our local team Queens Park Rangers and, since they played 15 minutes from our house, I agreed to take him along. QPR v Spurs was the game. I remember climbing the stone stairs from inside the South Africa Road Stand just before kick-off. As Xan and I emerged into the light, the noise, the sense of...
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