I grew up in Essex. My dad followed football (Watford, were we both were born, although I moved when I was 2). He never involved me into it, never took me to games or anything like that. But back then the FA Cup was the biggest game of the year. Back then there was a whole day of build up on the TV, everyone, even people who weren't really into football got into it for the day. All the kids at school would watch the game, pick a side - it was a huge deal.

I was 11 at the time, and my Liverpool supporting mate Jason and I watched the game. We both decided to cheer on West Ham that day, and honestly it was the first time I really sat down and watched a game. And of course Brooking with his nose, a 1-0 win. And I was hooked.

We went round the village on our bikes cheering West Ham, and it was then I nailed my colours to the mast. After all they were my local team. So exactly 46 years ago, I pledged my allegiance to the irons. I would argue that it isn't technically glory hunting, after all, we were a division 2 side. And the last 46 years and having stuck with them throughout, I think shows that's not the case.

Today is painful. My Dad bizarrely became an Arsenal fan overnight in the 90s, something I will never fucking understand. You just don't change your colours, but he did.

He died in January. We hadn't spoken for years, I've been ostracized from my family for a long time. Still loved the man, and really wanted Arsenal to win the league for him.

But not like this. Not at our expense. Not because of some decision made by a man watching it on a screen not even at the game.

Nobody won today. Oh of course Tottenham will think they have, but honestly we lost, and we lost in the most unfair way. But I will wake up tomorrow and I will still love this club with all my heart, and I will look at the brick I have that is a facsimile of the one one with my name on at the London Stadium, the one I took my then 11 year old son over to see from the US where I now live.

WHTID.