“Of course, when I was your age, I’d go to ever game. Home and away” lies the beer-stained old man in the pub you’ve gone in for a swift pint. 

Next thing you know, two hours of your life have been stolen as he tells you about some shitty local team reaching the 3^rd round of the FA cup, some shitty old pro who never forgot his roots, and some shitty coach that took him and his shitty mates to a shitty stadium in Doncaster in 1974 to see shitty Blackburn Rovers do something involving a shitty free kick.

Football is littered with pointless folklore that people are just itching to unleash on you, whether you want them to or not.

However, turn up to the pub with your deck under your arm and, aside from a few suspicious looks, no tales about a riding the trannies at the Civic Centre in Wolverhampton, or that time some group all went to France to skate Lyon will be forced upon you.

Skateboarding is a bullshit free zone