I grew up in a nondescript town in the East Midlands where rugby was (and still is) the only game in town, so in geographical terms I had something of a free choice. My father's family were Scousers and my brother duly adopted their team, Liverpool (you might have heard of them; the Manchester United of their day. No, honestly!)
Foolishly, however, as a contrarian I naturally looked to my mother's side of the family, who came from Edmonton in North London and were Spurs through-and-through. My uncle had been a regular during the "glory glory" days of Bill Nicholson and can still brilliantly describe the atmosphere of the European nights in those days.
He took me to my first match, which as it turned out, probably marked Spurs' post-war rock bottom - an away league game at Mansfield Town, in the old Second Division (we drew 3-3, Glenn Hoddle scoring twice). As a student I moved to London and though I've never had the misfortune to actually live in Tottenham, I would estimate I've seen about 400 games at White Hart Lane and counting. Must have done something wrong in a previous life I guess.