What is it about football that grabs us, wrestles us to the floor and holds us down in a pincer hold from which we can never hope to escape?
It's the stories and the tales. 'Do you remember that time when...?' So much of the enjoyment derived from this game stems from being there in the flesh to witness the time when we scored, we won, we lost, we got cold and our feet froze, we danced on the terraces, we broke down on the way, we swore we'd never go again.
It's about the glory. When all those miserable hours spent in a car, on a bus, on a plane, on a train suddenly became worth it. When for once, your team were the best they could be and you watched your heroes lift a trophy.
It's about the memories. Memories are slippery, elusive things. Some of them remain permanently and can be summoned with ease. Others are less forthcoming and hide away, only to reluctantly present themselves when summoned by a trinket, a programme,a scarf, a shirt, a ticket stub.
All this is here in the heart of Nottingham. The stories are emblazoned right there on huge walls for all to see. The glory is in the centre of the room - stood gleaming on a plinth. The memories are there in the presentation cabinets.
Go and see them. You will smile. You might cry. You will remember why you love football.
Image courtesy of The Nottingham Post