Football people are a strange tribe who are easily recognised by their posture. In the midst of walking we stop, contemplate and suddenly balance on one foot. We see crumpled paper, a tin can, an apple core and we pull back one leg and cock it like a streetside Maradona. We see a dustbin and lamp-post 10 yards apart and think, OK, that's the goal. We send the can expertly skittering between those goal posts and think we've won the World Cup.