Blowing it

Watford v Cardiff City

Wednesday 26^th December (Boxing Day)

Boxing Day train services are non-existent but I failed to learn this lesson from last year. Consequently, Jun and I had to shell out for a taxi from Wembley to Kerry’s, having left it too late to sit on a replacement bus service. Note to self: next year (if there’s a home game) get the jubilee line to Stanmore and then a cab. Joss told me about his share of the commercialism of the season as we walked to the Vic. Last year’s PSP was stolen recently, so now he’s got a slim white one.

WFC have not won at home in five matches and today’s game does not break the drought. We concede after 34 minutes in boring match that inevitably has people asking whether the players have had too much turkey. After the break, our new captain Jay Demerit (Gavin Mahon has lost favour with Betty, apparently) slotted home a pass from Nathan Ellington (his second assist in two games) but the Bluebirds went ahead again less than ten minutes later. It took until the last couple of minutes of normal time for Watford to get any sense of urgency but by then, many fans had given up and left.

Three minutes of extra-time were awarded and in the fourth of these, Jobi McAnuff got his second goal for the club, a curler from fifteen yards through a packed penalty area high into the top corner. Phew. A home draw against a middling side was suddenly such a relief. Meanwhile, WBA thrashed Bristol City at the Hawthorns, going above us on goal difference.

Kerry made us some food before Jun and I got our second and third taxis of the day (total £58) distributing presents to the nephews and nieces. Later Terri gave us a lift back to Stanmore station and I sang along to Alanis Morissette’s “Ironic”. I’ve always been uncertain about the examples she gives when delineating what the term means, but for a team who wanted to make the Vic a fortress to have the best away record in the country while struggling at home, perhaps we could use her version of the word, don’t you think?

Watford v Queens Park Rangers

Saturday 29^th December

I met Rod and Ticktock at the gates at Euston for what will probably be the little fella’s last game of the season as he is being sent away to boarding school. Not just for his sake (as he told me the Arsenal and Manchester United fans at school “hate Watford”), I hoped he’d see a home victory again, this time against the side second-bottom. I reminded him of the term “plastic supporter” in order to give him something to counter with. We met Joss while queuing to pick up their tickets and got into the ground in good time.

The game started signifivantly more up-tempo than Boxing Day’s had been and Watford had Rangers on the back foot. Then, with less than quarter of an hour played, Jordon Stewart brought down one of their players in the box, a penalty was conceded and dispatched and we were a goal down. “One-nil to the billionaires” the substantial visiting support sang. Supposedly the Rs are the richest club in the country, perhaps the world, since their takeover by Bernie Ecclestone.and Flavio Briatore and more recent investment from Lakshi Mittal.

The rest of the half provided good Watford pressure and two more QPR goals, one directly from a corner and another that was well made. Lee Williamson hit the post but the ‘Orns went into half-time without having replied. The Rookery, which was singing well today, was surprised to say the least but I don’t think I was alone in thinking that the way we were playing we could score four in the second half.

The four of us shared a ridiculously large “Dairy Milk” bar that Rod had bought and had a little hot chocolate from my new one-litre flask. I had to tell them that despite the size of the defecit, we were actually playing a lot better than in the last match.

Seven minutes after the break and Damien Francis had got on back for us and it seemed possible that we could get at least another home point but as we got closer and closer to the end without a second goal, that hope diminished. Not wanting to keep everyone waiting at the end, I went to the toilet with ten minutes left only to return to a tide of Rookery fans pouring out. We had conceded a fourth. I took my seat laughing. Within another two minutes, Darius Henderson had nodded the ball down for Danny Shittu to smash home against his former club but 4-2 it finished.

Joss and I directed Rod and Ticktock back to the station and walked to his place where I picked up my presents from mum. Later, on the train back, I overhead a Rangers fan describing it on his mobile to a mate as “A day that will go down in QPR history”.