And yet Larkin's amazing poem was about his - our - parents, who despite it all we love with all our hearts, hopefully, or at least one of them.This Be The Spurs
BY PHILIP LARKIN
They fuck you up, your Tottenham Hotspur football club.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the results they had...
And add some extra time moments, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style flat caps and butchers coats,
Who at half time were soppy-stern
And the second half at one another’s throats.
Fan hands on misery to fan.
It deepens like a coastal shelf side
Get out as early as you can,
And don’t have any Spurs fans yourself.
I've said repeatedly, I don't support Spurs to Win Things, it'd be lovely but it's not the be all and end all and never has been.