Catching complacency

Watford v Blackpool

Saturday 29^th September

Nobody was in when I rolled up to Kerry’s but a quick phone-call to Joss reassured me that he was just round the corner after catching a bus back from ‘town’ with a new pair of shoes and a bag of cat litter for their new kitten, Ollie. Dex died a month or so back and is buried under a new flowerbed in the back garden.

We walked to the ground predicting victory and sat down earlier than we have at home this season. So early, in fact, that we were able to see a section for wheelchairs very close to us that is either new or usually hidden by fans. It was the same starting line-up as last week and we were hoping that Marlon King would score his first home goal of the season. While he worked hard, he didn’t get many chances to shoot.

Like last week, there were elements of our opponents just trying to stop us playing, which is a compliment but one we have to learn to overcome if we are going to return to the Premiership. Blackpool played five in midfield and smothered us effectively. Nevertheless, a free-kick just before half-time gave the impressive Adam Johnson, who’d been booked for diving earlier, the chance to show he could curl a ball over a wall as well as he could go past defenders and we went into the break one up, like last week.

Ten minutes into the second half Betty took off Darius Henderson and Johnson, who’d gone down very easily right in front of us, for Nathan Ellington and Jobi McAnuff to boos from the home supporters. It didn’t do the trick and the Duke was poor while McAnuff’s failure to challenge for a ball is said to have led to the penalty Blackpool were awarded with twenty minutes left, which they converted.

The level of possession they’d had meant they deserved the draw they got but Watford, despite hitting the bar twice, seemed…what? Complacent? Passionless? For much of the game until the final minutes brought a desire to keep the one hundred percent home record. We walked back more interested by the Portsmouth v Reading score (7-4) than by any football we’d witnessed, though admittedly pleased to see we were still top despite two lacklustre displays.

It’s Joss birthday tomorrow and I’d been told there’d be a little party for him but Trevor and Sarah weren’t coming round and Kerry was still up the “town” when I rang her. Joss and I had a couple of games of chess and the younger Watford Boy won his first ever victory. Maybe complacency is contagious?

Singing when we're winning

Queens Park Rangers v Watford

Saturday 22^nd September

I directed other fans towards Euston Square station as I stood this side of the ticket barriers waiting in my yellow “Blissett” T-shirt for Joss. We followed behind them after the second train had pulled in and got on a circle line train to Edgware Road where we changed for a Hammersmith line train for Shepherd’s Bush. Joss was interested in the other fixtures in the paper and we talked about his French classes.

We got in half an hour before kick-off and took our seats in the second row over towards the corner flag. The teams were warming up and Marlon King and Darius Henderson were announced as starting, with Adam Johnson in for Jobi McAnuff, who was on the bench. This was my second time at Loftus Road and though there’s probably been terracing when I first came about 26 years previously, the ground seemed familiar.

Watford had one end but we weren’t really making that much noise even though the team had the majority of possession in the first half and the best chances to take the lead. QPR hadn’t scored at home this season and so we felt confident that this would be our day especially as their two best opportunities of the half were off target. However, there was frustration amongst us as we failed to convert and signs that the boss felt the same way when the team was sent out early to warm up before the second half got underway.

The tactic seemed to have paid off four minutes after the restart when Lee Williamson got to the by-line to cross for Johnson to head in for his first Watford goal. Relief manifested itself in volume aimed largely at the small bunch of rowdy Rangers boys who’d been banging out tunes off the back of the stand through the first half but when they equalised ten minutes later the same guys let us know that we were not consistent in our support…

Henderson came off for Nathan Ellington and he and King both had shots saved before the end. Rangers had a man sent off with nine minutes left and did their best to waste as much as they could of what remained of the ninety. The Golden Boys remain top despite a draw and QPR are still second bottom though they celebrated like they’d won more than a point.

We ate by the green after being directed the long way round and I saw Joss off at the station, as per, after whiling away the wait in the book section of WHSmiths.

Something to prove

Cardiff City v Watford

Wednesday 19^th September

There was never any way I was heading to Wales midweek so I had the BBC live text on as I caught up with Tim after his trip to South Africa and wedding ceremony. Betty tried his third different starting pairing up front in three games, this time Nathan Ellington started with Sunday’s supersub, Darius Henderson, and the latter put us ahead after 17 minutes with our first shot of the game. Cardiff had Robbie Fowler and Jimmy Floyd Hasselbaink as their strikers and it was the former Chelsea, ‘Boro and Charlton man who got the equaliser after the break. With twelve minutes to go, Hendo got his fifth in three matches and has shown that the competition has done him the world of good.

It had been mostly draws at the top in last nights’ Championship games, so our 2-1 win tonight took us three points clear of Bristol City, four of Coventry and Charlton five of West Brom, Burnley and Scunthorpe. Leicester City, the only team to beat us so far, languish in 20^th place, with only the one victory. There were fireworks outside my flat later that I imagined was to celebrate the point Doris is proving.

Never say die

Watford v Southampton

Sunday 16^th September

Got up late, ate and left, buying an Observer to read in first class on the train, where I was joined by another Watford fan and some neutrals going to the match, whose conversation I was mostly glad to keep my head buried away from. Stuck my bike in Kerry’s back garden (she was on the computer that Phil brought round) and Joss and I left soon afterwards and made it in with a patch of sweat on my retro Watford shirt just after Z-Cars again.

The results yesterday (most specifically 3^rd placed Bristol City (the Robins) winning 3-0 at top-of-the-table Coventry to pip them) meant that a home win today would put us on top of the pile at least until midweek and I considered putting money where my mouth was but feared jinxing the Golden Boys. Yeah, this rational atheist still succumbs to superstition where football is concerned. Which footie fan doesn’t occasionally wonder if their presence, absence or decision-making isn’t somehow connected to the fortunes of their team?

The only change from the last match was Nathan Ellington starting for Darius Henderson but that was probably predicted by many who saw the problems he created 2 weeks ago. Watford started well and had the first chances (Jobi McAnuff blasted wide) defending the Rookery end but it was a cross from Southampton in the tenth minute that Lee Williamson deflected towards his own net that was the nearest to a goal. Luckily our Latvian keeper Marty Poom got across to his right to keep it out and then we continued to apply pressure until we scored just after the fortieth minute, Danny Shittu steaming in to head in a Tommy Smith cross (with power reminiscent of his headed goal in last seaon’s Carling Cup game against Newcastle) that might otherwise have been Ellington’s first Watford goal.

Unfortunately we couldn’t hold on to the lead until half time. There had been obvious communication problems between Poom and both Shittu & Jay DeMerit, which tells me it is the keeper’s fault, but the ball that led to the goal was just played between the two centre-backs, with Shittu out of position, for Rasiak to slide it in. Joss and I went to look for Matt and Jake at half-time to talk about going to the QPR match together but within five minutes of sitting down for the restart Watford (Marlon King and Ellington) had had two excellent chances which had both resulted in powerful shots being put within reach of the goalie. I was just wondering why they couldn’t place it low rather than blast it high.

So it was that Southampton took the lead with a great looping shot from Dyer past Poom. The space he had, though, was probably again a result of Shittu making a decision not to close him down immediately. The frustration was tangible but I wasn’t feeling it. We had dominated the match overall and I said to Joss that we could still score. I joined in quickly and loudly with chants and started “Aidy Boothroyd’s Yellow Army” a couple of times, urging the lads on.

Henderson had come on for the tiring Ellington a few minutes before Southampton took the lead, and some nice passes led to Smith passing to a very-far-forward Lloyd Doyley, who crossed for the sub to even things up with ten minutes left to play. Into injury time the Saints’ fans “Let’s all have disco” songs had faded from memory when King, who the team were carrying to some extent, won a free kick that was cleared to Gavin Mahon, who pelted it back in for Henderson to have a bite at before toe-poking it into the net with his left foot.

3-2 at the final whistle a minute or so later and a thrilling game was won by the better team. What was really heartening was the desire they showed to win after going behind and the belief that they could. We walked back very content with the spectacle but most especially the result. If games ended after 80 minutes, last season we would have ended up in 14^th position (I read somewhere) but so far this season we are the team getting the late winners. That’s the mark of success.

Top of the League

Watford v Ipswich Town

Saturday 1^st September

Optimistic about our possibilities against a team a point above us, on the train I studied the table and fixtures in the small print of my Guardian to hypothesise positions come five o’clock. Ipswich outplayed us last season in the F.A. Cup but we beat them and I was confident we could repeat the feat. Watford broke their club record fee, paying £3.25 million (rising to £4.25 million) for Nathan “Duke” Ellington from West Brom and picked up a young Argentinean from River Plate on loan this week, which feel like good signings.

I cycled over to Kerry’s for two from the junction to three generations of Goodchilds. Trevor opened the door, Phil made us tea and I chatted with Mum and Brian, who are down for Mo’s Ruby (40^th) Wedding Anniversary Party. Trevor and Sarah had Beth and Kasey with them and the latter is beginning to recognise me, which is lovely. By the end of the day I was getting hugs and kisses.

Joss and I new-routed up to Willow Lane and then across the hospital car park and got in after Z-Cars, which seems to have been put back to its traditional time, and before the kick-off. The Golden Boys, made to play towards the Rookery in the first-half, started well and kept possession far better than in the match seven months ago, while Ipswich hardly threatened. After only 12 minutes, a cushioned header back from Lee Williamson to Darius Henderson resulted in a poor strike going under the recipient, after celebrations for the goal, of “dodgy keeper” chants.

Henderson had a couple of heading chances that went wide before half time but Tommy Smith seemed off the pace again while Marlon King didn’t seem to get in many scoring positions. It was really all us though until after the break when Ipswich had their predictable “period” and we defended “resolutely”. The Rookery were supporting well and the favourite “Mar-lon, Mar-lon, Mar-lon, Mar-lon, he is the King of Vicarage Road” was supplemented today by the presence of our honorary life president: “El-ton, (etc), he is the queen of Vicarage Road”. It felt great to be singing so affectionately when “poof” is still shouted at players who fail to prove themselves sufficiently manly to the seated beer drinkers watching.

Elton gave us a wave and a thoroughly professional performance was capped by Smith dancing between two defenders and smashing it home. Joss and I hugged and the guy in front appeared to start to join in. “Duke “ came on for Henderson, who got a long sing-off, and made a nuisance of himself a few times before the end, hitting the post. Man of the match, though, had to be Lloyd Doyley, whose defending was almost perfect and whose name was sung in celebration of us being top (at least until Coventry won their later game).

Voyage to Catalonia

Leicester City v Watford

Saturday 25^th August

I’d considered heading to the “Climate Camp”, hailed in some quarters as the most significant political protest of the year, but my attendance would have felt inappropriate given I’d chosen the end of this week to make cheap flights to Spain from another BAA airport, Stanstead. Joss came over early afternoon and after losing half the stuff from his suitcase and repacking in a backpack, we went up via Tottenham Hale. Queue followed queue and Joss experienced the reality of the glamour of air travel for the first time. Not long before we went to the gate I checked the scores on my phone to see that Watford had lost 4-1 at Leicester, Marlon scoring with a last minute penalty. The end of the winning run.

Sunday 26^th August

We arrived at Reus airport last night and got a taxi to Tarragona and our hotel, which was a long walk from the centre, where we went to find something to eat before sleep. Today we got a bus in and went to the Roman ruins before the beach, where Joss jumped through waves for ages. Later we walked up to the Cathedral before the long walk back to the hotel.

Monday 27^th

After checking out, we bussed through Salou to Port Aventura and stuck our packs in lockers before spending a few hours on the rides on offer, though we didn’t go on Europe’s largest roller coaster because Joss feared a repeat of Final Destination 3 or something. He couldn’t be persuaded otherwise and I made do with tame kiddie rides. Later we waited in the sun at the station for ages to catch a train to Barcelona and made for our hotel off the Rambla. There were a lot of people in the square out front and in the street next to it, but it was only after coming back out that it clicked we were right by the red light district. Hopefully, Joss never quite clicked. He enjoyed the Rambla though, and we watched an enormous ferry come into the dock.

Southend v Watford, Carling Cup 2^nd Round

Tuesday 28^th

Joss came with me to Gaudi’s “House of Bones”, Casa Batallo, and then to Parc Guell, patiently humouring my desire to “do” culture while we are here. We finished up on the Rambla again.

Wednesday 29^th

Beached it again and I ended up burnt with a neopolitan ice-cream arm: chocolate lower, strawberry upper and an inexplicable slice of vanilla between the two. Checked an English newspaper to see that Watford had gone down 2-0 the previous night. In the evening we headed up to the Nou Camp for the Joan Gamper Cup match between Barça and Inter Milan. I’d assumed, incorrectly, that there’d be tickets available but had to resort to scouring the streets. A guy who’d overbought sold me a pair at slightly less than face value and we were three rows from the front by one of the corners of the massive stadium with another 98,557 others to see the home side destroy the visitors 5-0.

Thursday 30^th

There was a little unpleasantness with a Euro and a can of Pepsi in the morning before we went to the Sagrada Familia and then to the chocolate museum. We ended the trip with a cable-car ride to the Montjuic castle and a visit to the Joan Miro gallery.

Friday 31^st

Despite using my phone as an alarm clock and forgetting that I hadn’t adjusted for the hour difference, we made it to the airport in time to be one of the last to check in (no queue) and Joss even got a window seat for the flight back.