Back in my early twenties, I was at a party at a rooftop bar trapped in a round of small talk with a friend of a friend. Scrambling around for conversation, I asked her where she came from. “Folkestone,” she said. If you don’t know, that’s a coastal town in Kent, in the south east of England.
Without hesitation, I replied: “Folkestone Invicta” — the name of the town’s local non-League club, currently playing in the seventh tier of English football. To this day, I have never forgotten the look on her face: one of almost total boredom and indifference, but for a trace amount of pity.
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