My family has never been what you’d call "athletic." Or "sports-literate." Or remotely aware of major international tournaments.

Case in point: I was at a family gathering the other week, and my niece’s new husband, a genuinely lovely bloke, decided to break the ice with a classic casual query:

“So, what did you think of the Football World Cup?”

Silence. My brother, my mum, and I just stared back at him with completely blank, unblinking faces. You’d have thought he’d just asked us to explain quantum physics in fluent Aramaic. Poor guy had no idea he was pitching sports talk to a room of absolute sports agnostics.

I remember the exact day I discovered football was a real thing that existed in the world: 8th May 1971.

My mum was working at a local playgroup in Wealdstone at the time. One of her co-organizers was married to a chap named Sid, a local Sunday League referee over at Cunningham Park, and a man who wasn't just a fan, but utterly, fabulously football-mad.

I was sitting upstairs, patiently waiting for my mum to wrap up her shift, when a colossal racket suddenly erupted from down the stairwell. Naturally, I ran over to investigate the commotion.

Climbing up the stairs was Sid, sporting a massive Arsenal rosette, aggressively cranking a wooden football rattle, and flanked by his two daughters (who were about my age). All three of them were marching up the steps at full volume, chanting:

“COME ON ARSENAL!”

It was my very first encounter with fanatical devotion. Arsenal went on to beat Liverpool 2-1 at Wembley that afternoon to complete the Double, so I'm fairly certain Sid was over the moon.

Conclusion

Sid’s grand stairwell performance was loud, vivid, and completely unforgettable. But as impressive as it was, it turned out to be a one-time phenomenon rather than a awakening. More than fifty years later, the noise has faded, Sid’s rattle has gone quiet, and my family remains gloriously, stubbornly untouched by football fever. But at least now, whenever someone brings up the World Cup, I can always look back and remember the day Sid brought Wembley straight to the playgroup stairs.