There’s a very famous line from Bobby Robson in which he asks the rhetorical question: “What is a club, in any case?” Forgive me for quoting it as, if you’re reading this magazine, you almost certainly already know it. But one of the answers he gives to his own question is this: “It’s a small boy clambering up stadium steps for the very first time, gripping his father’s hand, gawping at that hallowed stretch of turf beneath him and, without being able to do a thing about it, falling in love.”

As someone who has been going to football games with their dad since they were a very small child, this quote has always resonated deeply with me. In all but one regard – I’ve never been a small boy. Hello, my name’s Lizzie. Nice to meet you.

I spent a lot of time during the formative years of my life at a football club – specifically, my beloved Watford FC – and they are some of the most vivid memories of my childhood. My dad worked at the club back then, and took me – and later my sister – to most home games. The sounds, the smells, the atmosphere of those early matches have stayed with me, just as Sir Bobby said they would.

As a kid at games with my dad, I would always pester him with lots of vaguely annoying questions when he was trying to focus on the match. One of my favourite queries, which quickly became my ultimate ambition in life, was asking whether a woman could become the manager of the England men’s team. He would always patiently tell me that, yes, she could, “if she was good enough”, which I loved hearing. Of course, as an adult, I know that this isn’t really true; we’ve come a long way, but I still think my dream of being the next Gareth Southgate may be something of a long shot.