Most kids only experience football through TV, so one teacher thought she would take her class of 10-year-olds to see their local non-League team play

“We’re going to shout: ‘Did you learn how to play football from a butcher?’ That’s based on a Turkish saying.” There are plenty of arguments in my Year 6 class of 10-year-olds about whether Spurs, Arsenal or Manchester United rule the roost – often ending in the shouting of particular players’ names or results from hard-fought victories. Many of the kids support Turkish or Bulgarian teams alongside their English favourites. Weekly a gaggle of children, to avoid the early morning work on the whiteboard, will ask me for the umpteenth time: “Who do you support, Miss?”

I would generally answer: “A team you won’t know of, and Arsenal.” Then I started wearing my Enfield scarf for break duty and they asked more about this mysterious team. As I stopped saying Arsenal and just Enfield Town, I began telling the kids that our centre-forward Liam Hope is better than Pelé. Despite most of the children living relatively close to the ground, none of them had been to a non-League match and most hadn’t been to a Premier League game due to the prohibitive cost. So, we organised a trip: 40 primary school children on a Saturday to the glamour fixture that is Enfield Town v Witham Town.

Chatting to the kids a couple of weeks before the match, it was apparent that none of them knew much about this level of football and expectations were relatively low. “What if we played Enfield?” one of them asked. “I reckon a draw.” This drew hoots of derision from the others but only, it transpired, because they thought the goal would be too big for them to defend. Other than that, they felt pretty sure that the Isthmian Premier was roughly equal to their playground games. I felt confident they would be pleasantly surprised at the standard, but most of all I was certain that non-League football would be a positive, inclusive, welcoming and exciting experience.

How to be a sports journalist in the early 1900s (carrier pigeons required for match reports) Read more

As the date approached, Enfield became embroiled in controversy with the FA threatening to dock them three points for an administrative error by a player’s previous clubs. These three points could be the difference between getting into the play-offs and missing out. It has been a turbulent season even without this late drama. At least we are at the top end of the table – at this point last year the final game came down to a must-win relegation scrap. The children were relatively oblivious to all of this, but I worried that the atmosphere at the ground could be rather dark and subdued, and that if they do begin to follow the club, seasons of trauma and yearly potential heartache could follow: “Enfield Town – doing things the hard way since 2001.”

As a brass band played next to a gleaming white marquee set up for the children by the club, fans milled about in optimistic anticipation, rows of flags billowed in the breeze and the spring sun shone brightly as they got their first taste of a non-League stadium. My last chat with the kids as a big group when we got off the bus was to remind them that, unequivocally, we were supporting Enfield. It was unnecessary to labour the point.

It was the chips and the Enfield Ultras’ rhythmic drumming that naturally appealed to the 10-year-olds’ primal urges. Immediately intoxicated by the partisan chanting, they got fully behind the home team. Joining in with the songs behind the goal, hurling good-natured jibes at the linesman, cheering club favourite Corey Whitely, singing their own made up and badly rhyming songs and goading the Witham players with: “You are already regulated!” “You mean relegated?”

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Enfield Town 2-0 Witham Town. Photograph: Tom Scott/Enfield Town FC

The three other teachers who I had guilt-tripped into giving up their longed-for lazy Saturday afternoon joined me to watch as children scattered around the ground, totally at ease and welcome. Our children are from ethnically diverse backgrounds, with families hailing from all over the world and speaking many different languages. Standing in the glorious sunshine, a place in the play-offs still possible, a polystyrene container of chips in my hand, watching the kids immerse themselves in the experience, it felt like this was London at its best.

Early in the first half one of the girls skipped over: “What’s the score Miss?” “Nil-nil.” “Hmm, I think it is going to be 18-18.” While the predicted scoreline may have been slightly exaggerated, they soon got their excitement: a sending off, a missed penalty, two Enfield goals and a fight on the pitch (“Why is the ref sending our’s off? They were just tackling – with their hands”) offered the perfect climax.

How my dream of scoring a hat-trick came true (during the half-time interval) Read more

As the final whistle blew, 40-odd kids tumbled on to the pitch, thrusting footballs and shirts (bought for a quid from the club shop) under bemused, and unfailingly sweet and friendly, players’ noses. They wriggled their way into the team photo – tiny and grinning with the excitement of newly discovered fun. I stood, like most of the more reserved adults, behind the barrier watching on with pride – for my kids and for my club.

I wondered if they would retain their enthusiasm on long, rainy, grey treks to watch a grim draw being ground out at Thurrock and realised that most of us in the ground had managed, so we must be on to something. As we gathered our bags and counted heads one boy looked up at me: “We can come again though?” How can we keep away, I thought.

• This article appeared first in When Saturday Comes

• Follow When Saturday Comes and Paul Brown on Twitter