LONDON -- Our Lady of Compassion Catholic Church sits on the very southwest edge of West Ham United's Upton Park, so close that it almost seems like the pews could be an actual section of the 111-year-old football stadium. I'm not quite sure, though, which is the home to more devout faith, the church or the football grounds.

Maybe both. Next to the church and outside the stadium main gate is a small Memory Garden where West Ham supporters have buried the ashes of their loved ones over the years. Several are marked with plaques, including one that says the dearly departed is now watching his favorite 11 "from his seat in Heaven.'' The one for Clifford Duncan Howes, who died just after his 19th birthday in 2006, describes him as "the Heavenly Hammer'' and that he now gets "to watch the home games -- RIP Love Mom and Dad.''

These touching plaques and memorials are not something that I have seen at a U.S. stadium, where teams generally forbid the scattering of ashes (though fans still do it on the sly). At 105-year-old Old Trafford, however, Manchester United allows supporters to spread ashes inside the stadium, on the very edge of the pitch.

"In this country, we realize that football fans are very, very passionate indeed, and when you get attached to a club it can become your life,'' Manchester United's Museum Business Development rep Jason Leach said while giving me a tour of Old Trafford. "We have so many passionate fans. They will spend every penny on Manchester United. They follow them home and away. They buy the shirts, buy the scarves, they bring the kids up to support United.

"When It comes time to pass away, it's natural they would do something like [scatter their ashes here].''

Supporters also can, and do, get married at Old Trafford. While Leach doesn't know of any specific examples, he wouldn't rule out supporters being conceived in the stadium, as well.

I wouldn't rule it out, either. Everything from conception to cremation at a football grounds only makes sense in England, where football is a matter of life and death. Not that legendary Liverpool manager Bill Shankly agreed. As he famously said, "Some people believe football is a matter of life and death. I am very disappointed with that attitude. I can assure you it is much, much more important than that."

A customs agent at London Heathrow Airport glanced at my passport and asked what I would be doing during my stay in England. I told him I was a journalist with ESPN who would be attending Premier League matches and writing about it from the perspective of an American. While taking in six matches up and down the country in just over a week, I planned to learn about English fans, stadiums, rivalries, chants and concessions in what I call the Premier Experience.

"Are you a big soccer fan?'' he asked (and yes, he did say "soccer'').

Some people believe football is a matter of life and death. I can assure you it is much, much more important than that. - Legendary Liverpool manager Bill Shankly

I told him it is not the top sport I follow, that my passion is for baseball and cycling. I asked him whether he was a soccer fan.

"I grew up with football,'' he said (and this time he called it "football''). "But now, I'm more interested in baseball. I'm an Atlanta Braves fan. Tell me, why do they always play well the first part of the season and then fall apart the last 30 games?''

I couldn't answer that question -- who can possibly explain why Atlanta always collapses in the end? -- but I found a British customs agent wanting to talk baseball as interesting as Americans rising early on Saturday mornings to watch Chelsea play Aston Villa on the telly at local English- and Irish-style pubs.

Paraphrasing former Speaker of the House Tip O'Neill, all sports are local -- the closer the team, the more you care. Which is what makes the English Premier League so interesting. Forget locality -- there is truly global passion in the Premier League. NBC started televising its matches regularly here in 2013, but interest in the league has been rising for years.

Americans are by no means the only foreigners with such interest. In fact, we're still probably low on the passion meter. For instance, Manchester United provides audio guide tours of Old Trafford in English, French, Mandarin, Spanish, Italian, German, Polish and Japanese. Which probably still leaves out many fans.

When I attended the Liverpool-Sunderland match at Anfield, I randomly interviewed fans about the team. The first two fans grew up near Liverpool but live elsewhere now. The next two, however, were from Sweden. The two after that, Norway. The next? Sweden. Then Ireland. Then back to Norway. The one after that, Denmark. Then, Beijing (a fan I also met at an Arsenal match a few days earlier). Next, Hong Kong. It took almost half an hour to come across a true Liverpool accent.

"I love the Everton-Liverpool Derby,'' one fan there said. "Because you have all the Everton fans singing about Liverpool fans going home on the airplane.''

Why do they come from so far away? For that matter, why have I come this far, given that I'm not a particularly passionate soccer fan? Simple: To find out what the Premier League is like and feel the thrill of experiencing a match in person.

After watching six Premier League matches in nine days, I'd say the best comparison to American sports would be college football, where U.S. fans also sing at games (I'm not a Notre Dame fan, but its fight song stirs my blood), passionately and proudly wear their college colors (however many those may be if you root for Oregon) and have fervent rivalries (Birmingham, Alabama rivalries might be on par with Birmingham, England).

The Premier League is a different experience, though. While there is chanting and singing, there also is an intense focus on the game. Americans sit and chat and laugh and talk on cell phones and shoot selfies and go to the concession stand to get beer and nachos. Not Premier League fans. Oh, they drink, make no mistake about that; but that is mostly before matches and generally in pubs outside the stadium. Once the match starts, the focus is on the pitch. Apart from when a home goal is scored, it sometimes almost seemed like they weren't having fun. They barely even bothered to take selfies.

"You have to have your eyes on that game,'' Leicester City fan Simon Gutteridge said. "Whatever team you're following, you have to follow their beliefs.''

Premier League supporters were very vocal and loud and fun before and after matches (if their club won), but during the matches their eyes were glued to the pitch. They are true students of the game. I noticed very few conversations, though. The fan next to me at the West Ham match chatted a bit, but he also had his arms folded and twisted nervously.

Then again, there isn't a lot of light-hearted conversation and laughing in the pews during a church service, either.

I took my Premier League tour just after Thanksgiving, traveling to London, Manchester, Liverpool and Birmingham. I sat with Tottenham, Arsenal and West Ham supporters in their stadiums, traveled with Stoke City in a convoy of buses to Old Trafford and, better yet, drank with them in the surrounding pubs.

I interviewed dozens of fans about stadium culture and how it has changed with the all-seater format, the increasing corporatization and the escalating prices.

"It was loud. There was passion there. You could smell the ale, you could smell the meat potato pies. Now, it's different. Everybody sits down. I sit in the family stand with my eight-year-old lad. It's totally different from what it used to be for me.''

I visited the wasteland that once was the old Victoria Ground, where Stoke played for 119 years, and talked to fans everywhere about the continuing replacement of century-old stadiums.

"The Victoria Ground was my second home. I drive past it now and think what fantastic memories I had there. ... I think if you asked the average Stoke fan, 90-95 percent will say it makes them sad.''

I heard fans decry hated rivals, no matter what division they were in.

"I would love to see Birmingham get up to the Premier League just so we [Aston Villa] could relegate them again."

I wore the local club scarves and heeded warnings not to wear a rival's colors.

"I would never wear this at Tottenham or Chelsea. It's not worth the effort. You'll be picked on, you'll get - it's not worth the effort. There still is that intensity in English football. That's something we don't want to lose.''

I was astounded that for all their passionate faith and devotion, some fans of lower-level clubs expressed no hope whatsoever their team would ever knock off the heavyweights to win the Premier League (I mean, even Chicago fans think the Cubs will win the Word Series). Which reminds me of a line from the dark comedy "In Bruges,'' in which Colin Farrell describes purgatory this way. "You weren't really s---, but you weren't all that great, either. Like Tottenham.''

I felt goose bumps rise when Liverpool supporters sang along to "You'll Never Walk Alone.'' I listened to and tried to learn (but failed miserably) chants and songs. I ate the crappy concessions and drank even worse beer in the stadiums. I attended a game at Old Trafford with away fans and underwent a more thorough security check than at a U.S. airport. I explored which team the Beatles supported, Liverpool or Everton (Paul McCartney has joked that he has papal dispensation to root for both, but supports Everton when the two teams face each other), and took the walk between the club's two nearby stadiums. I tried to decide which team to support after I returned home.

I gambled against Man United by placing a legal bet inside Old Trafford minutes before the match. (Unfortunately, I lost my wager.)

And most of all, I soaked in enough atmosphere, experienced enough culture and drank enough pints for the following stories about my Premier Experience.