Champions

Watford v Newcastle United

13^th May 2007

It might have been the wrong sort of rain that delayed the train to Watford but I had to call Joss and tell him to leave and meet me at the Vic; Phil gave him a lift to the top of Harwoods Road and we met on the corner near the Red Lion, where I watched part of the Toon Army braving the rain topless in Hawaiian shorts. After locking up we got in too late to see the nurses lead the footballers out. I’d seen Noreena Hertz on the BBC News this morning and she’d mentioned that her campaign had the backing of more than 250 Premiership footballers, a fantastic success.

We took our seats for the last time this season and perhaps ever (Joss would like to sit higher up next year and I agree, though the atmosphere at the front is far better than in the middle). We sang “Yellow Army” and “Owen’s going home” (after Freddy Shepherd’s comments this week) and the Golden Boys, when they weren’t slipping over, had the better of the play. Will Hoskins, Douglas Rinaldi and Marlon King all got themselves into promising positions but failed to test their keeper, Shay Given.

Typically, Newcastle scored with their first on-target shot of their match as Kieron Dyer slotted past the onrushing Ben Foster, in his last game for us, after Jordan Stewart failed to cut out a through ball. The Newcastle fans in the Vicarage Road end didn’t seem that loud in celebration but maybe it’s because their singing before that had been so impassioned.

We went in at half-time a goal down and the best news of the day came when our girls’ team were paraded as champions of their league after a 12-0 victory. The Premiership title was decided in ManU’s™ favour last weekend (when Chelsea could only draw at Arsenal) and Charlton’s fight against the inevitable was over by Monday evening, so the real question today was who the third team to go down would be. After 45 minutes, West Ham were winning at ManU™ and Wigan were 2-1 up at Brammall Lane, meaning their hosts, Sheffield United, would go down if the scores all stayed the same.

Ten minutes after we’d eaten our half-time bananas, Lee Williamson unleashed a sweet half-volley that went just wide. A minute or two later, Adrian Mariappa came down the right and crossed. Newcastle’s Nicky Butt stuck out a hand and Watford had a penalty, our third of the season. It was Marlon King who stepped up to take it and slot it into the bottom left-hand corner to give us a one hundred percent conversion rate and him his fourth goal of the season, a tally second only to Hameur Bouazza’s, who has been given compassionate leave.

We had plenty more chances in the second half but they were just about all off target. Michael Owen was stretchered off with what was later diagnosed as mild concussion. My “Owen’s carried home” song was met by a “Shut up, mate” from the guy directly in front. “Fuck off” I replied sweetly. The whole ‘making friends with other fans’ thing never really took off. Theo Robinson came on to make his premiership debut (cue puzzled looks) and then, in the ninetieth minute, “England’s number one” was substituted and serenaded and Alec Chamberlain came on to play what was his last game for us too.

We deserved more than Newcastle from the game but a draw was not unfair. As the team took its bows and did half a lap of honour that didn’t really include the Rookery (much to the annoyance of some around us), we could reflect on a season that saw us do far better than when we were last up (1999-2000) but still not well enough by at least ten points. The half-time scores in the games that affected the relegation battle did not change and Sheffield United come straight back down with us.

“We’ll be back as Champions,” we’d sung as the manager, who signed a new, improved contract at the beginning of the week, thanked us for our support. Who will we lose, though? Danny Shittu has made noises and Hameur Bouazza could be too good to stay. Perhaps even Marlon King will be in demand. I don’t think we’ll have it as bad as the Blades or Charlton, but it’s unlikely to be the same Golden Boys next season. If it’s not promotion next year, there’s always the girls’ team.

Something from nothing

Reading v Watford

Saturday 5^th May

Jun and I picked up a waiting Joss at Euston and tubed to Paddington where we were commended by some passing Millwall fans for our “passion” in the face of relegation. After Rod and Air turned up, we commenced the half-hour train ride and then got onto a 79 bus for the impressive Madejski stadium. I predicted defeat since Reading are still playing for a place in the UEFA cup whereas pride was insufficient motivation to get us anything at Sheffield United last week.

Sat high up in the South Stand, we had an excellent view of the action, the first-half of which saw Reading attacking the goal below us. Ben Foster (“England’s number one,” again, we have short memories) made a couple of crucial interventions and the debutant Cedric Avinel was lucky not to concede a penalty that Leroy Lita was looking for. Watford started without Clarke Carlisle (suspended after the FA looked at his actions last week), Jay Demerit (given a break ahead of international duty) and Hameur Bouazza. Douglas Rinaldi went off injured after only ten minutes Avinel looked slow and clumsy and was carded before being substituted at half-time.

The atmosphere was better than at the Vic: chants often echoed around the whole stadium but it was the Reading fans to our immediate right that usually led. One of their chants involved the notion that Reading in Europe was “insane” but when the good-humoured Watford crew at the back of the stadium sang “Scunthorpe on a Tuesday night” in return, the reply “Europe on a Thursday night” was a tad unimaginative.

We went for refreshments but it took more than the whole break to get served so I missed the first ten minutes after the restart but not too much action, apparently. Jun had said she thought we could take them and I was inclined to agree if only because they penetrated but didn’t look capable of getting past Danny Shittu or Foster. So it was that a free kick led to Danny Shittu being in so much space he was able to pass the ball into a half-empty goal. The five of us celebrated but I still thought we’d be lucky to hold out for a draw.

Foster made another fantastic one-handed save at point-blank range and, coming into the last ten minutes, I feared the worst. I went to tell Rod about our propensity for letting in late goals but he said Joss had already told him and it was clear that the younger Watford Boy was enjoying sharing his knowledge. Five minutes before the end of normal time Tommy Smith weaved down the left and crossed. Their American keeper made a hash of it and Marlon King was there to head in from a yard or so out.

Two goals away for the first time all season and three points to the Golden Boys meant that Reading’s European tour seems highly unlikely if Spurs’ form remains consistent. The most vocal area of the home crowd erupted in fights as we sang “We’re shit and we’re two nil up,” to rub it in. At the final whistle, the Watford fans stayed longer than the majority of the Reading fans despite the home side doing a lap of honour. Then it was bus, train, tube and Joss was heading back to Watford and his dad, content with a victory and watching the scraps amongst the Reading fans.