I GOT myself into trouble once when writing about football on this website.
But this time, Palace fans, I hope and think you'll like what I have to say.
On Saturday evening, I set off for Selhurst Park to watch my beloved, but perennially unreliable, Tottenham take on Crystal Palace.
Yes, I edit the Advertiser but, as I think we've all established by now, I'm a Spurs fan (my dad's fault, no 'glory hunting' here)
I should also state, from the outset, that I was supporting the away team from the home stand. I'm everything that is wrong with modern football…
In fairness though, I drew the line at buying a half and half scarf.
I'm not going to talk about the game – Palace won, Tottenham lost, the referee was dreadful, and Andros Townsend put the 'dross' into, er, Andros.
But the overriding emotion I had on leaving the Arthur Wait (apart from what is the point of Etienne Capoue) was that Palace is a proper, proper football club.
The ground is proper, the atmosphere is proper, everything about it feels authentic and real – something you don't hear often associated with the Premier League.
Yes the stands could do with a bit of TLC, and yes the pitch isn't great but, in a way, that just adds to the attraction.
In recent seasons, I've been to grounds such as The King Power, in Leicester, and The Ricoh, in Coventry, which are just a bit too comfortable. If I wanted comfort and generous legroom, I'd go to the cinema.
But football, by its very nature, should be a bit rough and ready, a ramshackle experience. I don't even want the food to be tasty, I want it to be greasy and hearty. Just as well, as the burger I had was one of the less memorable parts of my evening.
My dad told me recently he'd prefer to go to a Palace game now because the atmosphere reminds him of when he went to football as a teenager in the 70s.
That's not bad thing.
In fact, it's a great thing.