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.