Disarming

Sheffield United v Watford

Saturday 28^th April

The coincidence of the meeting of Disarm DSEi (Defence Systems and Equipment international) at University of London Union, five minutes from home, with Watford’s long journey to Sheffield for a game which would have no impact on our season (bar our pride) had made the decision to write up some leaflets and go recruiting (as well as get some ideas for the “Stop the Arms Trade Week” of June 2^nd to 10^th) an easy one. I met Becky outside the ULU as police cameramen took pictures of the many people milling about, most of whom had nothing to do with the event. We went inside and took seats but a roar went up from outside indicating the arrest of one of the activists, who turned out to be a fourteen-year-old boy, and we went back outside to see if we could do anything and be photographed for our troubles.

The core of the spirally arranged ensemble were uniformed in black and the talk of action was restrained by the fact that this was a “public meeting” (about 30 people were there) and the fact that many of the actions the group planned would obviously be illegal. A woman at the back dressed in a summer dress pointed out that some of the people she knew who would like to be involved were put off by the presence of the police but implied heavily that it was the appearance of the activists that was also a problem. Dressed in a red T-shirt, I knew what she meant. I did put in a word or two about London Campaign Against the Arms Trade but inferred from a reaction or two that we weren’t hardcore enough. I saw a guy I knew from ISM London and the fact that he ignored me said a lot about the gulf between the “serious” protesters here and the people they were supposed to be welcoming. Non-violence is not an option for some.

Still, I did meet a couple of people I’d been in e-mail contact with in my role as co-ordinator of London CAAT, and a few people approached me for details and seemed keen to get involved so I think we took something more from the meeting than a distinction between those who’d been “failing to shut DSEi down for six years” and those who were hoping to be inspired to get involved for the first time. As well as suggesting that I could make a map using Platial or Google MyMaps as a resource for activists, I also offered to put in the time and effort to organise a public demo/protest for September 11^th, and will have to see if anything comes of signing up on the email list.

After a beer I came home and decided (with no plans for tonight – we went to Hampstead New End theatre last night to see a so-so play called Charlie and Henry) not to look up the scores but wait for MoTD. It was much more suspenseful that way and I enjoyed the matches in the race for the title (ManU™ won after going two down but Chelsea were pegged back after taking the lead) nearly as much as watching Clarke Carlisle almost getting sent off for two silly fouls, including an elbow to the face of Jon Stead. Marlon King hit the bar with a lob but that was after Chris Powell had deflected a shot in past Ben Foster and that was the only goal of the game, the first time in two seasons that a game between these two sides had ended in a home win.

That’s why we’re going down

Watford v Manchester City

Saturday 21^st April

Joss and I got in after kick-off again and I greeted the father and son immediately behind us who I’ve chatted with over the last couple of home games. Earlier in the season I pledged to make an effort with fans but have to report one home game away from the end of our Premiership campaign that I have not lived up to that. Although Joss and I started clapping and shouting immediately that we sat down, there was not much of an atmosphere today and I didn’t feel too motivated to take the lead in creating one until the second half.

The first half was poor: the City fans were louder but the game was mediocre. Our best chance came as Damien Francis pulled up injured and until we realised he had to go off we were disappointed that nothing had come of it. City didn’t seem too dangerous but neither did the Golden Boys. Marlon King started for the first time since October but unfortunately that showed, especially with a header in front of us that he directed yards wide.

Nil-nil at half time was a fair representation of a game lacking in most things that get fans involved but I resolved to shout throughout the second half and try to help create a twelfth man. I wasn’t alone. “Aidy Boothroyd’s Yellow Army” is a song that fits well with the “join in” ethos of the club and I led and led and led. However, less than ten minutes after the restart, Ben Foster moved forward to deal with a back pass and disaster. What looked to me like a failure to make a clear decision about whether to whack the ball or pass it to the left-back culminated in a tap into the path of Darius Vassell, who was able to pass into a semi-empty net. Foster, who’d been booed throughout the first half by the visiting fans (he’s a United player on loan to us, remember) suddenly found himself the object of “England’s number one” chants from the fans in blue. Ouch.

The fans, who are used to such adversity, responded to our falling behind by finally getting behind the team. In the absence of Curly (I’d already taken on the ideas behind some of his more abusive shouts) the usual suspects in front of us to our left (who are part of the “front row crew”) led some chants including “The football league is upside down”, which I haven’t heard for a while. I never tried my “land of harts and hornets” number, but contented myself with shouting along to “Yellow Army” etc. It took twenty minutes but a Douglas Rinaldi pass allowed Tamas Priskin to knock in his second goal of the season (2 in the last 4 games) and that only boosted the twelfth man. Unfortunately, that was not enough and another King headed miss meant it finished even and ended any hopes the most optimistic of the followers might have had. Championship football for us from August.

We clapped the players off (I wondered who, including the manager, we’d lose in the summer and think Hameur Bouazza and Danny Shittu (as well as Foster) are the most likely to be objects of transfer interest) and walked back a circuitous route because the police had cordoned off the bottom of Cardiff Road for some reason. Back at Kerry’s, Joss and I did some Spanish, played chess, connect 4 and air hockey and then I spent some time with my sister and her boyfriend. I’ve committed myself to another season ticket. More goals and more victories next season are assured, aren’t they?

An afterthought

Blackburn Rovers v Watford

Wednesday 18^th April

I sent a long overdue email to Rob in Doha and read through a pile of magazines and papers on the floor (pre-recycling) in order to make the place more presentable for our new lodger this weekend. Looking up the Watford score about midnight was almost accidental. All the goals were scored in the first half but Douglas Rinaldi got off the mark at Ewood Park. We went down 3-1 to the other defeated semi-finalists and defeat on Saturday could mean the mathematics finally catch up with the “facts” as we know them.

Blistered and hoarse

Watford v Manchester United (F.A. Cup Semi Final)

Saturday 14^th April

All talk of whether an F.A. Cup run is a good thing is long forgotten as Watford’s Premiership status slipped away (all but mathematically) games ago. Thus, it was with excitement that I woke up to make sandwiches and hot chocolate for the match at Villa Park. The Golden Boys have been in five F.A. Cup Semis (this was ManU™’s 25^th), and my attendance at this makes me a sixty-percenter. My first, twenty-three years ago, resulted in an expected win while my second, three years ago was a disappointing but not unexpected defeat. After ManU™ had thrashed Roma 7-1 on Tuesday of this week, Monday’s chant of “Bring on United” got put into appropriate context and this third semi was always going to require a surprise the likes of which we haven’t had since Luther Blissett scored two at Old Trafford in 1978 to win us a League Cup game when we were in the old Third Division.

I met Jan at the “Doric Arch”, the pub by the bus stops at Euston station and we had a couple of beers before we got on a train to Harrow & Wealdstone, where we disembarked for the specially designated train. There appeared to be only one other fan waiting and we chatted before he moved up towards the front of the platform. When it pulled in, we asked the guard if we could take First Class seats and gleefully did so, knowing that however many piled on at the next few stations, we would be comfortable. Trouble was, there was no piling on. Even at Watford Junction itself, the number of fans was in the tens and we had a quiet carriage (not just the First Class section) to ourselves. Watford’s ticket allowance did not sell out and the lack of atmosphere on the train was an obvious consequence: can we have cup fatigue? Are there fans out there seriously waiting for a final to “make a day of it”?

Jun had joined Jan and I at the pub and Joss got on at Watford (I’d posted his train ticket to him) so we had a little isolated sing-song. Jan, whose allegiance tends towards the Gooners, seemed surprised when I answered that I led chants at the Vic, but after I’d offered him a Watford shirt and he refused in order to stick with his Royal Blue “Suomi” T, Joss and I treated him to a round or two of “We support our local team”, which he took with good grace. I also tried out the chant I’d made up a good few weeks ago but haven’t used yet and said I’d put it to use at Villa Park. There was a short stop at Northampton which we took advantage of to stretch our legs and I greeted other fans on the platform with “we’re the first class, we’re the first class, we’re the first class over here”. One carriage down responded with “we’re the poor class” but other than that, spirit was lacking in the fans on the rails.

Jan slept. We detrained at Aston and sang the ten-minute walk to the ground in the company of the Yellow Army from cars and coaches. Inside, we had another beer (vodka and Stella had been imbibed en route) and took our seats ten rows from the front just as the Golden Boys (in yellow shorts as well as shirts again) finished their warm-up. The atmosphere was great - we were outnumbered and there were empty seats in “our” Doug Ellis stand, but the ground was echoing to songs from both sides - these were not the same ManU™ fans that were at Old Trafford in January. When the team emerged again from the tunnel we launched the Thomson Local confetti I had cut up this morning and half an hour’s scissor work was gone in seconds. Come on you ‘orns.

ManU™ had their big guns out (though Jun thought Ryan Giggs in particular looked bigger on TV) and within six minutes potato head Wayne Rooney had chipped in a goal to get us off to the sort of start I was fearing. Twenty more minutes blurred past and then Hameur Bouazza, who scored two on Monday and is our top-scorer, pulled off a fantastic overhead kick from a Tommy Smith header to put us level. We partied like it was 1999, a song I’d listened to in my pre-match build-up, but before we’d settled down Cristiano Ronaldo had latched onto a Rooney cross and we were behind again. From the position we were in it wasn’t easy to see exactly how effective Watford’s attacks were but we had our fair share and perhaps were unlucky to go into the break a goal down.

The second half saw the same Watford commitment to attack and try to win the game, which made for exciting viewing but plays into United’s counter-attacking style, not that it was immediately effective. We remained in contention but a second Rooney goal finished us off (we haven’t scored more than one away from the Vic all season). Kieran Richardson came on as a United sub and added to their total too and the only remaining heartfelt cheer was for our substitute Marlon King, who has missed the majority of the season with injury and who we’ve missed terribly. Apparently, there has been some interest in him from other Premiership clubs and I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that Bouazza was a summer transfer target too.

It was a great day out: the best atmosphere of any game I’ve been to this season, and no Watford fan could have felt hard done by or expected more. We left singing and were chatted at by an obnoxious Watford fan and then talked to a Dubliner who’d flown over to support United. I felt justified in my oft-sung “We support our local team” number. We queued for fifteen minutes or more to sit in a full First Class section for the train back and played “I spy” again to while away what seemed like a much longer return journey. As we pulled in at the Junction about two and a half hours later, a couple of lads sang “First Class give us a song” and I belted out the song I’d told Jan I would try to get people to sing today (but hadn’t). These guys at least seemed to appreciate my effort:

Land of harts and hornets

Since eighteen eighty one

Golden boys forever

Watford’s marching on!

At home my right thumb still hurt from the blister that cutting up the confetti created and I was hardly able to speak but we caught the end of the highlights on MoTD and felt that we’d had a good day out. Que sera.

Firsts

Watford v Portsmouth

Easter Monday, 9^th April

I got up earlier than I wanted to with legs and neck still aching from yesterday’s exertions as goalkeeper and defender in Regent’s Park (I had a great game: my team mates called me a “professional” keeper). After breakfast I pocketed my season ticket (with a little Post-It I’d written “gloves” on (the ones I used in the park are falling apart)) and cycled to Euston, trained it to the Junction and rode to Kerry’s. She made me a cuppa and Joss and I walked to the ground. I said I expected a draw today but felt that was hopeful after our defeat and their victory two days ago.

We didn’t start well and Pompey went about their business largely unchallenged so it was no surprise that Matthew Taylor had plenty of time to curl in a shot beyond Ben Foster with little more than quarter of an hour gone. The fans in blue, who’d already been quite loud, sang “Let’s all have a disco” and danced in the Vicarage Road end. Going behind did at least serve to rouse the Golden Boys and Tamas Priskin, who’d given the ball away in the run-up to their goal, dribbled well in their box and found himself tripped for a penalty just before the half-hour mark.

Joss pointed out that Darius Henderson’s absence meant someone else had to take our second league penalty of the season and it was Hameur Bouazza who stepped up. I shouted to their keeper, David James, that the achievement of a Premiership record number of clean sheets would not occur today and the Algerian international strode up and coolly proved me right. Further pressure from us followed as we howled at James whenever he had the ball (his facial hair was a tad excessive) but the final goal of the half was a complete surprise. The ball was knocked out of the area and our captain, Gavin Mahon, who has not performed at Premiership level this season, ran in threatening to unleash a left-footed half-volley that I fully expected to reach the back of the stand. Instead, he smashed it with glorious technique into the top corner of the net for his first goal of the season and perhaps the best Watford goal I’ve seen for many years. The kick-off was followed by the half-time whistle: a high to take into the dressing room.

We started the second half as we had ended the first and Priskin got his name on the score sheet for the second time since joining. Since the previous effort was in the abandoned game with Wigan, this goal counted as his first and he ran down the touchline to celebrate with Marlon King, who was sitting behind the bench. The fans went into celebratory mood and our players didn’t let up though Portsmouth had a couple of chances. “Boozer” Bouazza had a shot saved by James and later another shot was parried but he latched onto the rebound to get his second and give us four goals for the first time in the Premiership. “We want five”, we sang, and Boozer seemed especially keen to make that happen, with two long-range shots that went wide. Portsmouth’s sub netted one but when I led the “Let’s all have a disco,” chant a minute or two before the final whistle, the whole of the Rookery joined me in dancing and singing in merriment.

At the final whistle, “England’s number one” turned and threw his gloves into the stand and I caught the right one. Had the second been thrown in the same direction, it would have saved me a purchase and they would’ve been used in Regent’s Park this Sunday. As it was I gave the sweaty thing to Joss but made him promise not to use it/take it out of the house. We bumped into Jake and Matt in the shop and then walked back happy with our three points and the confidence boost ahead of the FA Cup Semi-Final on Saturday. Joss showed the glove to his mates in the close outside his house and his friend Louis exclaimed “Lucky bugger”.

Didn't turn up

Middlesbrough v Watford

Saturday 7^th April

This was a game I would have considered going to if Watford had still been in with a chance of survival but coupled with a trip to the semi-final next weekend, the long trip to the northeast didn’t appeal. Since Sky Sports News has gone from my cable service, I had to make do with the BBC Sport’s text update. However you followed the match, it didn’t make for Easter cheer. 1-0 down after five minutes, Damien Francis’ twenty-second minute equaliser was followed within two minutes by a second ‘boro goal. That’s how the scores stayed until half-time but John, my colleague at work, will delight in being able to return the taunts I dished out five months ago after his local team added another two and finished up giving us a 4-1 hiding. Betty made no excuses, calling us awful.

With the exception of the Hornets’ fate, the league has got more interesting. Charlton and West Ham have found form of late (the latter incredibly winning at Arsenal today) and Sheffield United have dropped into the bottom three. At the other end, ManU™ lost at Portsmouth this evening, which means there are only three points between them and Chelsea, with the teams yet to go head-to-head at Stamford Bridge. The UEFA Cup positions still seem to be up for grabs too. After 32 games and with just 6 to go, there seems to be only one certainty in the English Premiership: we are out of our league.

Almost there

Watford v Chelsea

Saturday 31^st March

Only the sports pages of The Guardian prevented me from heading over to Watford more than two hours before I needed to be there: I hadn’t been aware the kick-off was at 5.15. Still, I had to be there earlier than I would if Joss’ bike hadn’t been stolen a couple of weeks ago. Sarah and Ethan were around, but Kerry was in bed when I got there. Joss and I left just after half four and he chatted about his friends at school, his maths teacher, the films he watched in lieu of ‘drama’ and ‘discovery’ lessons and described a Spanish test he’d done well in that seemed to be made up exclusively of the only vocabulary and expressions he knew. It reminded me of when he said he’d had a test on capitals in September 2005 after we’d been learning some.

We were there early enough to enjoy a bit of pre-match atmosphere (a “bit” is all there is) and within three minutes of the game starting, Darius Henderson had left an elbow in the air that John Terry’s face moved to fill and we had a break that the Watford players used to continue their warm-up. Watford had early pressure that led to a couple of corners and Steve Kabba, working hard up front, had a fantastic overhead kick tipped over by Peter Cech. We certainly looked the more likely to score for the first half-hour, with Chelsea’s attacks relatively lacking in vim until Didier Drogba somehow picked up a pass behind our defenders just outside the six yard box and was still judged onside. His turn and stab at goal was blocked by Ben Foster with his left foot and the relief in the Rookery was tangible.

I’m not sure if it was just today but the Rous stand seems to have become increasingly vociferous and involved and I think that the variety of chants from the Rookery has increased over the season, but particularly since the turn of the year and the fun at Fulham. Curly was on good form next to us today, performing a Cossack-style dance he was desperate for Andriy Shevchenko to see but that had to suffice with laughs from the fans around him. We taunted Frank Lampard with his absence from England’s team for the midweek Andorra victory and chanted “Roman’s rent-boys” to the rest of the team and “Sacked in the summer” to the manager.

There were a couple more good saves from Foster before the break but standing in line for a pizza pod and a hot dog, we were inclined to feel that this was one of Watford’s best team performances of the season and to dream of three points (yet still be delighted with one). “Jose is a girl’s name” Mourinho made all of his substitutions within fifteen minutes of the restart but Watford still had the best chances of the game: Kabba rushed wide a shot from six yards and Damien Francis, who worked hard all game had a good shot stopped on the right before another Kabba drive was cleared off the line by Cech, who was matching Foster. We could and should have put one of those three in and won a famous victory. Instead, in the second minute of four added on, Shevchenko crossed for the substitute Salomon Kalou to rise and nod in.

The Chelsea fans who hadn’t made a noise most of the game were understandably overjoyed to have stolen it at the death to stay six points behind ManU™ and with West Ham and Charlton both winning again, the gap between us and everyone else just keeps widening. I resigned myself to relegation a few games ago, so that’s not the worry but it’s hard not to have taken anything from this and end Chelsea’s title ambitions at the same time. On the walk back Joss asked who I thought man of the match had been and I said Francis, but it had been a good team performance: at Stamford Bridge there’d been a gulf between the two sides that wasn’t evident today.

Having dropped off Joss, I had to rush off to get down to New Malden in Surrey for Kahori, Maya and Mina’s leaving party. We saw them on Wednesday but on Monday they head for a new life in Japan and this might be the last we see them for a few years. New beginnings: I think I am due one too.