Here's a story about the real meaning of fandom.
Back in the sixties I went to a game with a couple of mates where my team Sunderland were playing at Newcastle, about 10 miles north of us. We normally stayed away from derby matches which is what they called games between nearby teams, they tended to be rough.
Newcastle were up 2 goals to 1 ten minutes before the end of the game so we decided to bail out before the rush. On our way out we heard an enormous roar, followed by another one a couple of minutes later. Turned out Sunderland scored twice in the last few minutes giving them the game.
We knew it would be bad.
Threw our Sunderland hats and scarves in a trash bin and ran for our lives. It was about a mile to the train station. Just as we got there Sunderland fans started running out of the station towards us followed by a load of cops with dogs. The cops had heard what happened and they were trying to secure the entrance to the station. We turned around and hundreds of angry Newcastle lads were running towards us. We thought we were done for, trapped between the cops and the mob, but right then the Sunderland lads came running down another street. The two armies turned towards each other and got stuck in. Somehow we managed to get into the station and onto a train. The fighting moved into the station but more cops with dogs managed to keep them away from the trains and we escaped with our lives.
Those were the days.