After the match - I was sexually assaulted on a train while a dad and his sons laughed

Last month I took the overground to sit in my season ticket seat at the best football club in the country, in my home of north London. I sat with the middle-aged men I've learnt to love over the past three seasons, watching a team I've loved since I was a child and celebrated a buoyant 3-1 win over Brentford under the sunshine. So how come, 30 minutes after the final whistle, I was surrounded by police officers, sobbing my eyes out in a Transport for London office at Seven Sisters?

- Eve De Haan

I'd say there's always a sense of nervousness getting on the packed overground after a game, no matter if we win or lose. The trains come only every 15 minutes, the crowd gets frequently kettled into the small station, and being only 5ft 3in and packed into a crowd of men who have spent the last 90 minutes submitting to their territorial football mentality, I often have to meditatively breathe myself into being OK. But until now, I had been OK. Despite appearances, most fans in these situations still seem to have a generally altruistic and empathetic attitude to those less able, less comfortable, or just generally ... small.

When an away fan elbowed me in the face getting on the carriage that weekend I put it down to the intense crush as everyone pushed each other to get on in time. It's never nice, it's never comfortable, but it happens. It was just as the train was setting off that I realised I was actually being assaulted. The same fan was pushing into me, not in a packed-like-sardines way, but in an I'm-pushing-my-pelvis-directly-into-your-ass-on-purpose kind of way. Meanwhile, the man in front of me was grinning and licking his lips as my front was pushed into him from behind.