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.