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By Dave Roberts

It was the late 1960s and I must have been 12 or 13. I was down at my local park in suburban Bromley, kicking a ball against a fence, pretending to be my favourite striker when I was suddenly aware of a small group of skinheads standing around me. “Who do you support?” one of them demanded in a menacing tone.

I was terrified and looked for clues as to what the right answer might be. But there were no giveaway signs of scarves or tattoos. Unexpectedly, I felt a burst of defiance rise up inside and looked him firmly in the eye. In a voice that came out far more squeaky than I had hoped, I said, “Bromley!”

He looked at me in disbelief and burst out laughing. The rest of them joined in, and as they walked away they were still in hysterics, repeating the word “Bromley” over and over, as though it was the funniest thing they’d ever heard.

It was about the only time in my life I’ve been glad to be a Bromley fan.

Who are ya?

My team have never been one of the glamour clubs, even now that they’ve reached the dizzy heights of the Blue Square Conference (South).

Bromley have never had a tell-all book written by a star striker. Their replica shirts are not seen on the high streets of Britain. And there are no DVDs of our 101 Greatest Goals (in fact, the only DVD on sale in the club shop is the Kent Senior Cup final 2006/7 “with bonus footage of post match celebrations and trophy presentation”.)

This, to me, sums up their appeal.

Life has always been much simpler in the lower reaches. You turn up at the ground at five to three, knowing you’ll be able to choose where you sit. Kick off times are always the same and not at the mercy of TV companies. Most importantly, you could really feel a part of the club.

So why the book?

I decided to write my book, The Bromley Boys, during the 2006 World Cup, when I realized I was falling out of love with football. It was a combination of things: the ubiquitous cheating and diving which had become a feature of every match, the histrionics which greeted every perceived injustice and the joyless, negative approach adopted by so many of the teams.

I wanted to go back to a time before the beautiful game started to turn ugly. For me, that was the 1969/1970 season. Even though this turned out to be the worst in Bromley’s history, I became so obsessed with the team that I even went to watch them train twice a week, and only missed two games, home or away.

Although it was mainly a season of lows for the team, there were plenty of highs for me. These included watching Bromley come close ( in my mind, anyway) to beating the European Cup Winners Cup holders, landing a job in the tea hut and, best of all, getting a lift home from an away game in my favourite striker’s car.

I don’t think football was better then. It’s undoubtedly more skilful today and the players are much fitter. I just don’t feel as passionate about it as I did in those days - or as much a part of it. Back in the 1960s and 1970s the teams, from Corinthian Casuals to Walthamstow Avenue, were unique. And so were the fans.

Non-league teams tended to attract the misfits. Looking back at my fellow supporters in those days, I can see that we had several things in common. A contrary nature, which was necessary to resist the appeal of one of the bigger teams, irrational levels of optimism and a stubborn streak of independence.

Not to mention the knowledge that we’d probably get laughed at whenever we told people who we supported.

Bromley Facts:

Bromley were unique. Things happened to them that didn't happen to other teams - for example:

* Their record crowd was for a game in which the opposition played in bare feet.

* Their stand was hit by a hurricane. A few years later, it was burnt down.

* They would have lost 2-1 to Kingstonian a few seasons back, but a rabbit intervened and the game ended 1-1.

* They somehow contrived to win the Kent Senior Cup several weeks before the final was played. Even today, I struggle to work out how they managed it.

* The official club colours were black and white, yet they played in white and blue.

They also had the world’s most embarrassing nickname. While other teams had intimidating sounding aliases like the Red Devils, the Gunners and the Eagles, Bromley were known as The Lillywhites.

The Bromley Boys: The true story of supporting the worst football team in Britain by Dave Roberts is out now