On a chilly Saturday afternoon two weeks ago, my Present politely shook hands with a large chunk of my Past.
So here I am in a small room in the middle of a very dark forest near a very large lake. The room is a cross between a log cabin and a student room.
They say that football has sold its soul to the media and to the middle classes. They say that it has become over-commercialised and lost its connection to the working class fan. I disagree.