Maybe it’s because I’m a Londoner.

I recently read an interesting and highly refreshing take on the eternally controversial issue of ‘who you should be entitled to support’. It effectively stated that whatever team the most influential person in your life growing up support’s, that’s who you should support. In this interview it was a die-hard United fan who said, quite honestly, that he supported United because his dad did and that he is the one that got him into football; however had his dad supported city, then so would he. This mature mentality is not only completely fair, but completely logical. It is a breath of fresh, rational air that to me (a Southern United fan) makes perfect sense; and the other, more popular perspective of ‘you should only support your local team’ seem out of place and far too ignorant in this modern footballing world.

My dad moved to Manchester in the early 70’s. He instantly embraced Manchester – its culture, lifestyle and vibrancy – and in the same way, Manchester embraced him. He inevitably discovered the city’s proud footballing heritage and, just like Keano, he unquestionably saw Old Trafford and said ‘I fancy that’…or, to quote another United song, he weighed up the other bluer option and thought ‘I’d rather shag a bucket with a big hole in it’. Although not originally from the area, the ‘glory hunter’ tag that is so flippantly placed on all non-Manchester born Red’s should not affect him, as he came to England in his early 20’s in ‘72: and in 1974 we were relegated to the old Second Division, with city in fact boasting the label as top team in Lancashire. My dad was merely inspired by the city he called home; the first place he lived in England (after moving from Cyprus), and thus adopted the local team as his own, regardless of the untraditionally low standards of football they were playing around this time.

I’d like to say that he chose United based on their legacy and the undying aura created by team’s gone by: from the Busby Babes to the ‘Holy Trinity’; or that he’d been to see them play and thought their style was special and utterly appealing – even though, as mentioned, this was a considerably poor period for them. But, the fact of the matter is that he was probably influenced, as many of us are, by the people around him.

His educational and occupational path saw him leave Manchester after 5 years; moving eventually to London in the 80's, where he set-up for the long-term (along with nearly half the entire Cypriot population at the time). As soon as his son was old enough to understand the game, he continued this tradition and showed him – no, told him – the team to support. Regardless of the fact that I was born in Wood Green (3 stops north of Arsenal on the Piccadilly Line), went to school in Edmonton (walking distance from Tottenham) and spent my entire childhood in North London, I was never going to support another team.

Fortunately, unlike my dad, I was brought up to support United during a time of prosperity and greatness. Change and transformation was on the cards, as United won the FA cup in 1990 (Ferguson’s first trophy after 4 disappointing years) followed by League Cup and Cup Winners Cup success in 1992; and then, essentially, their first League title for 26 years in 1993. Ferguson’s revival and inspired, now legendary, signings in those early years initiated and reinstated an almost forgotten Championship winning mentality in our team that has survived and stood the test of time. Although many players and teams have come and gone over my 23 years as a fan – and Ferguson’s 23 years at the club – the presence and impression of Manchester United is constantly one of superiority.

Unfortunately for me though, having not been born within the vicinity of Trafford Park or at least been a loyal fan through the dark 80's, this successful period of the club’s history has in fact put a stain on all Southern Red’s, as it symbolises the sole reason as to why we support them. No one from my generation has a chance; as clearly we are all 'glory-hunters' who have jumped on the bandwagon and cunningly decided to support the most popular, victorious team around; regardless of their distance from our birthplace.

The bashing I have received for NOT supporting Arsenal, Tottenham or Enfield FC and instead supporting a team a couple of hundred miles away has been brutal yet consistent. Never has anyone had another perspective other than ‘but you’re not from Manchester…’. The point that I see United every home game and have been going to Old Trafford, and wherever else I can grab tickets for, since I was 10; even though I live a couple of hundred miles away, has never arisen amongst the bitter masses who just cant accept that their teams aren’t as good as mine. My love, passion and adoration for my team is undying, and like the ignorance of all those haters, it will be everlasting.

The commitment I make to get from London to Manchester for every match, as well as the inert ability United have to rapidly alter my emotions, is enough ‘proof’ that my support is real (not that I should EVER need to prove to anyone that I’m a proper Red). My interest and instigation to follow United was initiated by my dad, but the passion is all my own.

The emotional attachment my dad feels towards the club may have drifted over the years due to his physical detachment from the place as well as a change in priorities. For me however, as someone who has had to follow United the hard way – travelling hours to see them, arriving home at 2am on a school night after a Champions League game; and not to mention the money a fan of the 90’s has had to spend on supporting Manchester United ‘the company’ – my feelings towards the team have only strengthened. But more than anything, it’s entirely what happens on the pitch that affects me (and all fans) the most, no matter where I am when they play. Whether losing an FA Cup Final, European Cup Final, or 2-0 at Anfield last Sunday – and whether I’m there in the ground or simply listening to the radio – my emotional state before, during and after the match tells me, every time, that the almost unhealthy affection I have towards this team officially labels me a ‘fan’.

I am not from Manchester. I’m not even from the North. I am from London; and I support Manchester United – because my dad supports them and he got me into football.

And if that isn’t enough to shut the ignorant haters up when they ask, ‘so what part of Manchester are you from?’ (and I don’t think they ever will), then I will always be inspired by the banner at the opposite end of the ground to where I sit:

‘Our history makes us strong. Your hate makes us stronger’.