There is absolutely nothing sexy about girls that are into football.  I realised this at approximately 9.47pm yesterday as I threw my hands into the air, muttered a handful of expletives, and stormed out of Ewood Park.  I admit it, I welled.

We've all been subjected to the images of unfeasibly attractive Latino women, posing provocatively in front of camera wearing a Brazil shirt and little else.  But the reality is that football for girls just ain't pretty.

I am a fan of a, shall we say, 'modest' Premier League club, currently battling at the foot of the table on the cusp of relegation.  It's not fun.  In fact most weeks I sit frozen, staring bleakly at the pitch, wound up like a spring coil and hoping against hope that this time, perhaps just once, we won't f**k it up.  Inevitably, I end up disappointed.  Last night was no different.  To all intents and purposes, my perpetually struggling team was gifted a golden opportunity to take 3 points from a significantly weakened bigger club.  Naturally, however, we fought to near-death and then gave it all away at the end. 

Now, I'm aware of that age-old theory that girls go to the football to look at the boys' legs.  And I'll admit that, though not the critics choice, I do hold a pretty substantial candle for Andy Carroll.  Alarmingly, I think it's the hair.  But last night, as I looked on in despair at his 90th-minute shot sailing over the line, I experienced absolutely no sentiment for his legs.  In fact, I can confirm that given the opportunity, I would have relished delivering a swift blow to the bollocks.  Instead, I vented my frustration via the medium of discourse, specifically, 'do one Carroll you long-haired f**king gypo.'  Eloquence, thy name is Laura.

My point is that I don't follow football to be cool, or so that I can chat to boys nonchalantly about the offside rule.  I don't follow football because I fancy the players or because I aspire to have Wayne and Colleen's lifestyle.  I follow football because Blackburn Rovers are part of my childhood, adolescence and (disconcertingly) expanding adulthood.  I follow them because, like my parents and grandparents, and their parents and grandparents, and their... you get the picture - that team represents my home.  It's probably not cool, and it definitely isn't sexy, but God I love my club.