Responding to the habits of the foreign support towards the beloved lilywhites, as being only a poor student most of my weekends in pursuit of match feeds is through online feeds or going with friends to the “British” pub that are located here in San Antonio, Texas where I currently reside and attend graduate school.
My finances are pathetic, but my love of the shirt cannot be measured by any worldly means. When I was working at a Boy Scout camp in New Mexico during the summer 2010, I learned that the mighty Spurs were playing in San Jose, California. I quickly went to Google maps and learned that this distance amassed almost three states and twelve hours of driving. Seeing that this game was scheduled for a weekend, I approached my boss about wanting Friday off so that I could make this trip to watch this historic team. My boss who lacks any empathy for football told me that at 3 p.m. on Friday that I could be relieved of my duties and could make the trip, but I had to return Monday morning sharpish. I then did the math in my head knowing the hour that I would get back crossing time zones that if I drove at the max I would just make the time for kick off.
My next move was to organize three other friends who share the passion for the game, though not necessarily for my love in Spurs, to join me on the road trip. The trip began and we drove through the night and day only stopping for gasoline and the passing of bodily fluids. My friends love of the game and my determination to see my team in the flesh kept us on the path to destiny.
We arrived at the pitch that belongs to the honorable San Jose Earthquakes without a minute to spare and ran into the stadium to find our seats. To my delight, my eyes feasted on the likes of Gareth Bale, Robbie Keane, Tom Huddlestone, Luka Modric, and others as they played on a blistering plastic pitch at midday, which I know for a fact is misery as I have done the same during my playing days in college. The game ended with a nil-nil score line, but every minute was a feast for my soul. I get a lot of banter from the plastic support in America who loves to support the United’s, the City’s, and the Woolwich Wanderers without any real knowledge of why they do the things they do, but I love football and I love Spurs. To me Spurs means passion and giving it your all. We all make goals in life to do our best and we all want to achieve great things but we should all strive to do it with style and eloquence, which to me is symbolized in the Tottenham Hotspur Football Club.
As I still go to the pub wearing my Spurs shirt and become a target by those who claim United red, Chelsea blue, or red and white Gooner garbage. Though, I listen to their banter I only respond with the knowledge that I know who I am and the pride to the shirt that I wear. Audere Est Facere.