By a proud member of Kerala Spurs

I still remember the first time I saw Tottenham Hotspur play. It was 2009. I didn’t choose Spurs – they chose me. Somewhere between the white shirts, Luka Modrić’s vision, and that electric feeling of watching Jermain Defoe score, something clicked. I didn’t know then that I had just signed up for a journey filled with pain, patience, and moments that would test the limits of loyalty.

Yesterday, for the first time since I became a Spurs fan, I witnessed something I had only dreamed about – Tottenham Hotspur lifting a European trophy. This wasn’t just a win; it was a release. Fifteen years of near-misses, heartbreaks, and “almosts” led to this moment. And when you’ve waited that long, it’s not just about the silver – it’s about what it means. This is pride. This is validation. This is personal.

Being a Tottenham fan in Kerala isn’t always easy. We’re far from North London – both geographically and emotionally, at times. Most people around us support United, Barcelona, Madrid, Arsenal, or City. When Spurs lose (which has been often), the group chats light up with jokes and memes. And every season, there’s that one moment when hope flares up – only to be crushed again.

But here’s the thing: we’ve never stopped believing.

We’ve seen it all:

• The highs of Pochettino’s team – when it felt like we were building something real.
• The heartbreak of the UCL final in 2019.
• The Kane-Son partnership becoming the stuff of legends.
• The constant rebuilds, false dawns, and “this is our year” memes.
• And seasons where we looked more like a meme than a football club.

Still, we’ve kept chanting. We’ve worn our jerseys proudly in the Kerala heat. We’ve gathered at 12:30 AM on weekdays at local cafés just to watch Spurs play Burnley away in the rain. We’ve argued with friends, defended our team on every forum, and quietly held on to the hope that one day, we would have our moment.

Yesterday, that moment came. And no algorithm can calculate what it meant to me.

I thought of every missed chance, every time someone asked me, “Why Spurs?” I thought of our Kerala Spurs group, the people I’ve met purely because of this club – people who feel like family now. We’ve laughed, cried, and stood by this team for more than a decade. That unity – across cities, cultures, and countries – is what makes football different. It’s what makes Spurs different.

When the final whistle blew and the team lifted the trophy, I didn’t scream. I just sat there, silent for a moment. It hit me. I’d waited 15 years to feel this. It wasn’t just about winning – it was about belonging. And in that moment, I belonged to something that had finally got its reward.

To everyone who stuck around: this is for us.
To everyone who mocked us: enjoy your memes – we’ve got silver.
To my Kerala Spurs brothers and sisters: we made it.
And to Spurs: thanks for never being easy. It makes nights like this unforgettable.

COYS. Always.
– Lathif