Growing up the daughter of immigrants in 1980s Britain, it would be an exaggeration to say my exposure to the national game was limited. Euro 96 changed that a bit; as a teenager, it introduced me to the thrill of cheering for England for the first time.
But my relationship with football since has remained fair weather: tuning in to watch England play in international tournaments, rolling eyes at boyfriends when weekends were ruined by defeats and feeling a little jealous of the unadulterated joy when their team won, and saying, yes, that’s right, to people amazed I’d never been to a match.
