"This neighbour of mine was a retired engineer, a Norfolk boy, and a follower of both first team and academy, home and away. He was just one of thousands with a season ticket at the back of Carrow Road's lower Barclay stand: a Saturday afternoon companion, a stranger at the start of the last season who became a little less strange as the matches went by."
"I was able to glean, for example, that after decades of loyal (if pessimistic) fandom, he would soon be moving to Yorkshire with his partner, unable to ignore his dreams of the Dales. He had already decided that he wouldn't be renewing his season ticket. My first year in this part of the ground was his last. There are other faces I recognise every week, most of whom returned to their usual seats after the long summer break:"
"the dad and his two young lads in front, the Scottish-born council worker to my left, and behind me the woman who, unusually, attends games with the best friend of her grownup son. In my first season among these people there were moments celebrating a late equaliser, belting out the club song before kick-off when I felt quite close to them. So begins the process by which tentative exchanges on the terrace can provide the foundations for more meaningful connections and perhaps even genuine friendships."
A fan describes matchday routines and rituals that include nodding to an older season-ticket holder who repeatedly predicts Norwich will lose and insults referees. The neighbour is a retired engineer who follows first team and academy matches and plans to move away, ending a long-standing attendance. Other regulars are identified by seat: a father with two boys, a Scottish-born council worker, and a woman who attends with her son's friend. Shared moments such as celebrating a late equaliser and singing the club song create a sense of closeness. Tentative terrace exchanges gradually build foundations for meaningful connections and friendships.
Read at www.theguardian.com
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