England's Number Two

Tottenham Hotspur v Watford

Saturday 17^th March

From Euston to Seven Sisters, Joss and I talked about the match on TV last week and he commented on how good Bouazza’s goal had been. We talked about the subsequent drawing of ManU or Boro, who replay on Monday, and wondered about where we’d have to head to see the match. Jun and Faisel are already signed up but Rod will be in Mexico and therefore unable to make it. I’ll make a couple of other calls when the opponents and venue have been set to see if others want to get in on it.

We walked up the High Road, a few hundred metres from where I used to share a flat with Sue at Clyde Circus, and on amongst the stream of white-clad fans towards the Lane. Having decided against the programme seller with a small queue we were disappointed to discover the regular guy in the away stand was off sick. We were in early enough to see the guys training and hear that Spurs had left Dimitri Berbatov, who has been white hot, Aaron Lennon and Robbie Keane (each red hot) on a sizzling bench. They are replaying Chelsea on Monday after a 3-3 draw at Stamford Bridge. Early chants from our end included “3-1 and you fucked it up” in reference to the lead they lost that day.

More to the point, though, was the fact that they’d scored three against Chelsea in a run of hitting threes and fours in the League and a successful UEFA Cup run. This is a much better Spurs than we played four and a half months ago. They looked threatening from midfield but Jay Demerit and Danny Shittu contained Mido and the Jermaines – Defoe and Jenas – who were indisputably a second string. It was only when I had decided for sure that Jenas wouldn’t score that he did five minutes before half time and, although Ben Foster could do nothing about a header into the bottom corner, our boasts that he was “England’s number one” seemed blunted in the presence of his clean-sheeted rival.

We got our programmes and Joss went for chocolate in hot liquid and cold solid forms, with money from his dad, who’d taken him to Watford Junction. Watford looked as lacking up front as they have most of the season but it was a freak goal just after the hour that will make posterity. Robinson took a free kick outside his area and it looped all the way into our box. Under pressure, Shittu left it for a surprised Foster to deal with and he couldn’t. “That’s why you’re number one,” they chanted as the rest of the team ran back to congratulate England’s keeper. I only heard one fan mention Croatia…

That killed us, though we responded to their fans with a few rounds of “Yellow Army”. They didn’t look particularly like scoring again in the following twenty minutes but then Hossam Ghaly let off a deflected shot into the bottom corner and we had to go through the whole “Yellow Army” thing again as our own were deserting us for North London’s streets all around. By way of consolation for those of us who stayed, Tommy Smith ran to the goal line and crossed for Darius Henderson to get his third of the season and we got our biggest cheer of the game.

We walked out and back down the High Street. A guy in a passing car shouted “Going down with the Hammers” and I replied “Shut it”. When we caught up with the car at the traffic lights a bit further up he seemed rather aggressive in asking “Shut what?” but I smiled at the programme I was studying and ignored him. We got back to watch the second half of England’s defeat to Wales in the Six Nations with Mum (Nanny) & Brian (Grandad) and then went for pizza and bowling in Finsbury Park. Jun came second to me and I took a pound off Joss for his unwise bet as he slipped to third.

Away at Home

Plymouth Argyle v Watford (FA Cup Quarter-Final)

Sunday 11^th March

This is the first Watford game we’ve missed this year. I’ve been in bed, then working, watching an exciting Chelsea v Tottenham draw, messing around on the computer, doing a little housework and watching England beat France in the Six Nations rather than spending that time sitting on one of the 10am coaches laid on free to the fans by the club to compensate for the six o’clock kick-off. It is not technically correct to say we’ve missed it as it is live on BBC1, but Joss is at his home and I am at mine. If it had been a Saturday, I would have given it more consideration.

As it is, I sit down with a smoke, a cold beer and a warm wife to a better view than the Rookery affords me. The Yellow Army seems sufficiently numerous at Home Park but this is a big day for Devon’s Green Army, loud and proud and hoping to avenge their semi-final exit to us in 1984, which has been much in the news in the run-up to the game, when my dad took me to Villa Park to see George Reilly head us into a first ever Wembley appearance. Apparently, years later the striker was viciously attacked by an assailant whose only comment was “Plymouth”.

We start brightly and have more of it than the team from the Championship and within twenty minutes Hameur Bouazza has swept a pass from Damien Francis in off the underside. Bootiful Boozer. Going behind galvanises Argyle, though, and they are the better team for the rest of the half, forcing a number of great saves from the returning Ben Foster. Watford seem to be playing for time from very early and the referee adds more than a minute to the official extra two. Not good BBC1 viewing, but I’d take a semi-final appearance over pretty defeat.

The second half was more of the same. I’m not sure I would have felt the same if I had been there, but sitting at home I was confident we could defend against everything they threw at us. We’d won 1-0 at West Ham and been outplayed by Ipswich in a win of the same scoreline, so it felt inevitable that we’d get to the 94^th minute without conceding despite their twenty or so attempts. Ben Foster, Danny Shittu and Jay Demerit were seaside rocks, “Watford” written all the way through them. Semi-final it is then, Watford’s third in five years. I’d love another 1-0, over Blackburn say, the only team definitely through so far: ManU™ drew at Boro), and an appearance at the new Wembley.

Off the bottom

Watford v Charlton Athletic

Saturday 3^rd March

I’ve given up on our Premiership status and also made a decision not to buy tickets for the FA Cup Quarter-Final being shown live at 6pm on SUNDAY, March 11^th. I told Joss yesterday when I phoned him to say I’d got tickets for the Spurs game. We will have managed fourteen in a row, which isn’t bad for a fair-weather-fan.

Cycle, train, cycle. Joss, predicting a defeat or a draw, let me in before I’d knocked and I played with Kasey and exchanged pleasantries with Trevor. Kerry and Phil were in bed. Pumped up Joss’ tyre and then Ebury Way-ed it. Joss managed, for the first time, to cycle the length of the long slope off Cardiff Road to the stadium, with me alongside. Lock up, queue, turnstile, programmes, seats, shout. There was stuff to get right behind from early in the game: we looked menacing. Gareth Williams started and was effective in moving the ball around and Tamas Priskin seemed sharp again, though fired a good early chance straight at their keeper.

Nevertheless, Hameur Bouazza had scored after quarter of an hour. Then Damien Francis, whose header from Priskin’s cross had been deflected into “Boozer’s” path for the first goal, got onto the end of a Tommy Smith pass for the second and we were laa-la-la-la-ing The Great Escape at 2-0 after twenty minutes. We rolled out all the usual: “Going down with the West Ham”, “That’s why you’re going down” and offered to sing a song for the visiting fans.

Boozer was on fine form and deservedly played the ninety minutes. His run from our half to the goal-line to cross deserved better than being missed by Priskin and Francis. It could have been three at the break but we had hot chocolate and felt okay. Off the bottom. Nineteenth is probably the highest we can finish, so lets celebrate it. Second-half chances for both sides came and went but our substitutions had a negative effect on the team’s performance and goals for the guys in black went in within minutes of each of the departures of Francis and Priskin for Johan Cavalli and Damien Francis respectively.

Again, the draw was greeted with boos by some elements of the Rookery and perhaps beyond. It is really unnecessary. Our performance today was relatively attractive and effective though we should not have sat back as we did. It does not warrant booing. Still, this period has been disappointing: two points from the three home games that included two “six-pointers”. Because West Ham don’t play Tottenham until tomorrow, we are off the bottom on goal difference for at least 24 hours.

We cycled back and practised Spanish and I took pics of Kasey on my phone, each of which appeared more out of focus than the last, before leaving after half and hour or so. Realised, in passing, that I should have played Joss at chess. I’ve already knocked over my king for the season.

It's fun to lose and to pretend

Watford v Everton

Saturday 24th February

I cycled to Euston, locked my bike there and tubed to Speakers Corner to give out CAAT London leaflets about our March 19^th protests at the No Trident/Troops Out/Don’t Attack Iran march from there to Trafalgar Square. Jun and her friend K came down and we walked together asking if people were interested. We probably gave out two hundred and fifty and I met a few activists I knew and some I’d seen emails from.

I do not support an immediate withdrawal from Iraq but felt happy to offer my support to those calling for a diplomatic solution to the stand-off with Iran. As for replacing Trident with Trident Two, much was made of the number of schools or hospitals we could build with the money we’ll waste on replacing our nuclear weapons before such a decision needs to be made. The Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty, which the UK is a signatory to, calls for eventual disarmament and we are planning our nuclear weapons for the next generation. From Trafalgar Square and condemnations of UK foreign and domestic policy (the best was when a speaker suggested that British soldiers not be allowed to work anywhere they don’t speak the language, in an echo of government comments on “citizenship” in the UK), I got back to Euston and took my bike onto a new Silverlink train.

Kerry was in bed when I pulled up at four, and Joss didn’t come back until about twenty to five but it was the fact that I waited for the full-time results before we left that made us late for the game. The programme sellers were gone and we had to wait for half-time before we could buy them, by which time we were two goals down. In the twenty third minute, Richard Lee blocked a shot into the feet of two Everton strikers following up and Manuel Fernandez got there first. Within two minutes Andrew Johnson had sped through and been brought down for a penalty he converted. It was over and the Rookery was still warming up.

Most of the noise was reserved for Johnson, who may already have dived before we got there, calling him a cheat and lots of other names. Joss relished it and now faces back into the stand during the newly-adopted “We’re the front row,” geeing up the crowd but I stuck to facing forward and the Watford songs today. Tamas Priskin, brought on for Darius Henderson, made a lot of good opportunities for himself in the second half but none hit the target. Still, it was something to cheer.

We left early and were already cycling in the darkness of Cardiff Road when we heard a cheer that I took, correctly, it turned out, to be a third Everton goal in stoppage time. Charlton had thumped West Ham 4-0 earlier, so we know two of the three going down. Charlton must be feeling confident ahead of their visit to the Vic next Saturday. With one point out of our two home games this week, I am not.

Joss and I practised Spanish a bit before I headed back for Jun’s pasta and we went on to meet Julie and others in the Fullers pub on Tottenham Court Road near where we used to work. A pint there and we paid a fiver to get into the studenty Mean Fiddler for a bop on an empty dance floor before the band came on. Bussed it home for three and bought an early edition of the Observer that didn’t have our match report. I can just deny it.

That was the season that was

It’s been fun. I have, like so many before and with me, experienced these kinds of ups and downs before. I started supporting Watford in 1979 when my dad took me to a 2-2 draw with Rotherham in the old third division. Within the next 5 years I’d seen us beat all the big teams, come second in the league and make up the numbers at an F.A. Cup Final. A few years later we’d started much of the return journey. It’s been like that ever since, so obviously I’ve held out hope that we could scrape seventeenth this season. The Wigan game was one I said we must win before it was first played and abandoned. It was more obviously so today and a draw against ten men was a fair result.

That’s why we’re going down. Even against ten-man Ipswich at home in the FA Cup on Saturday there was only one beautiful piece of football, worthy of a Premiership team (from us at least). When I look back on the season so far, I see few others. Marlon King’s goal against West Ham in the opening home match; Ashley Young produced many of them before we sold him in January: runs and vision; Johan Cavalli looked like quality on his debut in the 1-0 victory in the Upton Park six-pointer, but has not shone in two half-games since. Hameur Bouazza has been up there and elsewhere, as has Tommy Smith. Our defence has stopped many good Premiership sides from getting onto the scoresheet, which speaks for itself about their quality as a unit. In my opinion, Ben Foster, who I regularly chant is “England’s number one”, has managed sublime (as in the double save that got him injured in the Wigan match) but has made a couple of costly mistakes too.

I am not on a witch-hunt. I disagreed with Steve Coppell when he said after Reading’s 0-0 draw at Watford’s Vicarage Road Stadium in early December, that commitment, effort and desire are ugly words. Watford have shown them aplenty and that is what the 12^th man responds to. I think they were only lacking significantly when Liverpool came to the Vic after their 6-2 hiding at home to Arsenal in the Carling Cup. We may have lost that game in the tunnel. A few fans have booed other patches of recent home performances against Bolton and Wigan. Not guilty.

I saw a comment on a West Ham site after our victory there ten days ago that conceded relegation for the Hammers, suggesting defeat by the worst ever team in the Premiership sealed it. I agree with half that sentiment. Charlton are dire and West Ham seem hardly to be functioning. They will both come down with us, statistics will decide the order of the fall. Watford may not be the worst team in the Premiership this year, let alone ever. We might be bottom of the league but three teams have lost more matches and five teams have conceded more goals. It’s just that no team has scored fewer.

On more than one occasion this season, our manager, Aidy Boothroyd, has used boxing similes to verbally portray Watford’s situation. “Muhammad Ali versus Jimmy Krankie” was just the most memorable. So, we have been punching above our weight. Not that well, though. If we can’t – at home – beat the only team it is statistically likely we could drag into the relegation battle should we have done so, and get off the bottom in the meantime, when they are down to ten men after 20 minutes, we are going down. I am throwing in the towel.

I know there are still thirty-three-theoretical points to play for and our season is far from over. The Wembley chants are not redundant yet, not with Plymouth away as our quarter-final draw, though I am not ruling out a “shock” on Sunday 11^th March from 6pm (?). We should probably notch up another two or three victories in the league too, especially with Charlton at the Vic in ten days. Nevertheless, I think I’ll be taking my nephew to Championship games again next year. At least there’ll be more league victories and goals. Yellow army! Yellow army!

Hasta luego

Watford v Wigan Athletic

Wednesday 21^st February

This has been the one. While the West Ham away match felt like it wouldn’t matter even if we won, it will if part of a run that includes victory today and against Charlton. I’ve had a strange feeling over the last few days, though, which evokes the Sheffield United defeat. Perhaps it’s the hope of an important victory. Maybe it will even become a good feeling. Back when the game was abandoned it felt like an important one to win, one we were going to win, but not like a six-pointer. Feel the power of that promise; I do.

Kerry walked Joss down and then took Dex around the stadium and home. We met, locked up and could hear Marlon King encouraging the fans to get behind the team and as soon as we got to our seats, a few minutes into the match, we started to give it our all. Joss mentioned beforehand that his head was alright and he shouted as much today as ever (he’s been quieter the last two matches). Wigan were good but I thought we looked like we wanted it more and when one of their players. Fitz Hall, got sent off for a two-footed tackle on Johan Cavalli after just 20 minutes, I was sure the six points were ours.

Doris Henderson poached one four minutes later to make it 1-0 and it was the icing on the rising cake. Hendo doubles his season’s tally in this match. When it matters. “Going down with the Charlton.” We joyously taunted. Then ten men broke through and Ben Foster made a fantastic double save that involved a challenge which left him injured and in need of attention. No keeper on the bench. “England’s number one” can’t walk properly or kick the ball. Adrian Mariappa takes three goal-kicks and something changes. Wigan break through again and Caleb Folan puts himself through and scores a good goal.

Something had changed. We were standing off, not passing well, not taking advantage of numbers but a few fans react too harshly. You can’t half-time-boo them at 1-1 against Wigan. Let’s get some sense of perspective. Anyway, as on Saturday, Hamuer Bouazza came on for Cavalli at half-time but didn’t produce anything telling. Hendo had a couple of good efforts go just over but they threatened too and a draw was fair. That’s why we’re going down…can’t beat 10 man-Wigan at home.

We did a little Spanish on the cycle ride home and went over stuff before he went to bed. Joss is clearly keen to be able to express himself in the language but hasn’t shown any enthusiasm for learning lists of words. So, we are practising questions and answers at the moment and his pronunciation is still improving. Not that mine is great but…Joss intende ensenar a Kerry un poco el espanol. I’ll have that checked before anyone reads it…

Que sera

Watford v Ipswich (F.A. Cup 5^th Round)

Saturday 17^th February

“Will you be playing a team of substitutes?” the Ipswich fan asked on the Silverlink at Euston.

“Nah, I think we need the boost of a cup run.”

“We’ll be the first team to win the cup and get relegated,” an unmarked fan laughed.

Unable to move the banter on, I returned to my newspaper and Russell Brand’s response to the Observer writer who spent a large part of last week’s Watford-victory match report on the hypothesis that there could be an inverse correlation between the comedian and West Ham, the team he supports. You can’t argue with Brand’s assertion that “Most football fans will have at some time in their life bartered with an indifferent God over the outcome of a match”, but I wouldn’t be offering too much on the result of this one.

This is Ipswich’s cup-final for the season if they don’t win but for us it is an aside, however much we pretend otherwise in order not to belittle the competition. Staying up is more likely than winning the cup, but is this a distraction? If winning really is a habit, then maybe I was on the button with my response to the Tractor Boy opposite me, but we cannot know that until after Wednesday’s game, so I’ll postpone judgement for the abandoned rematch.

Joss opened the door and Trevor was making rounds of fry-up sandwiches. Kerry made me a cuppa and Sarah came in with Kasey. I warned all to beware my flu germs and supped away while the males ate the lion’s share of the meat and bread then Joss and I cycled along Ebury Way asking and answering “Como se llama tu madre?” and suchlike with an emphasis on pronunciation. We’ve set him the target of being second best in his class (there is a native speaker in there) although it was the lowest score on his report.

Locked up, got programmes, moved someone on (again) before taking usual seats a couple of minutes in. Four thousand loud blue fans filled the Vicarage Road stand and I was too croaky for sustained shouts. Ipswich had the best chance of a mediocre first-half, hitting the crossbar, before having one of their players sent off for apparently stamping on Shittu just before the break. And breaks are what we seem to be getting at the moment.

However mediocre we were (Cavalli didn’t look as impressive today as last week, though there were good tackles, Shittu was back and effective), Ipswich with ten men should not have threatened us but they did again several times in the second half though we had what looked like a goal headed out without being given. Still, it took until two minutes from normal time for Damien Francis to hit the target (two good chances earlier from a similar position had gone wide) and put the Golden Boys into the quarter-finals. Smith did the hard work and made a cross that Henderson dummied for Francis to pass into the corner of the net in front of us. It was the only piece of attractive Watford football of the 94 minutes and we started singing of the long overdue London stadium that could be our destiny/destination.

Would I rather have won this or the Wigan match? Both.

Six points to the Golden Boys

The Premiership “six-pointers” got off to a surprising start with Watford’s victory at West Ham. The majority of observers, even ex-Watford (and England) manager Graham Taylor, saw this “must-win” going the way of the home team but, despite the Hammer’s unprecedented spending in January, Watford recorded their first two away wins of the season in a two-week period at Upton Park’s Boleyn Ground. Before the F.A. Cup Fourth Round match, most of the Yellow Army fans were saying that they would prefer a win in the league a fortnight later. Aidy “Betty” Boothroyd (after the House of Commons speaker), Watford’s ever-optimistic manager, said he’d rather win both. Betty’s preference prevailed.

There had been much talk of the run of three games in which the bottom three play each other, but such talk omits the fourth club in the relegation battle, Wigan. Whilst there is no certainty that it will be three of the bottom four that go down, especially in the light of Manchester City’s freefall into sixteenth place, the statistics would indicate that it is the teams with fewer than thirty points at this point that are most likely to drop down into the Championship. Omitting Wigan from the equation surely limits the discussion to being solely about the positions in which the teams go down.

Position	Team	Pld	Pts	GD
17	Wigan	26	25	-16
18	West Ham	27	20	-24
19	Charlton	27	20	-27
20	Watford	26	18	-22

West Ham and Charlton’s next match is their meeting at the Valley, and Charlton visit Watford’s Vicarage Road stadium the following week, but if you factor in Wigan games, there are three more crucial matches in the dogfight at the bottom of the table.

Wed 21^st Feb Watford v Wigan

Sat 24^th Feb. Charlton v West Ham

Sat 3^rd March Watford v Charlton

Sat 31^st March Charlton v Wigan

Sat 28^th April West Ham v Wigan

Beyond these “six-pointers”, if you look at fixtures against the “Big Four”, West Ham must be deemed to have the most difficult run-in, with games at Arsenal and Man Utd and home to Chelsea, while Charlton and Wigan “only” have to travel to Anfield and the Hornets face Chelsea at home. In all probability, this means there are two fewer games for West Ham to expect anything from than there are for the other teams at the bottom.

Where would your money be? A further look at the bottom end of the table shows that all of the teams play Sheffield United but only Charlton have them at home. Charlton and Wigan go to the City of Manchester Stadium, while Watford play Man City at home. Can much be made of such permutations? Will Watford’s run of three league games at home straight after a home tie against Ipswich in the Fifth round of the FA Cup (and the win at Upton Park) give them an advantage? Is the Cup a distraction at this stage, allowing the other three teams precious time off to recuperate?

There is much to debate for those of us concerned with our teams at the bottom, but the financial stakes are so high, we cannot help but ponder. West Ham’s spending in January was said to have totalled £17.5 million, Charlton spent between £3–4 million, Wigan spent a net £2.8 million whereas Watford have probably made around an £8 million profit in the transfer window, with the sale of their England under-21 winger Ashley Young to Aston Villa.

Certainly, Watford’s dealings seemed like preparation for the Championship, but bringing in eight players has also added some depth to the squad and galvanised players in all positions to fight for their places. Which of these four teams manages to overhaul the others may be something we are able to wonder about until May 13^th, but with players such as Lucas Neill and Matthew Upson reputedly earning so much, West Ham seem to have the most to lose and therefore seem to be the least well-equipped to bounce back should they be relegated.

In 2004/5, West Bromwich Albion, who were bottom at Christmas with 10 points, ultimately survived with 34 points. The same number of points would also have ensured 17th place in 2003/4 and 35 would have sufficed last year. In 2002/3, though, 43 points were necessary to retain premiership status. In the eleven years that there have been 20 teams in England’s top league, an average of 37 points has been the survival default. Who knows what it will be this year, but you can be sure that the point-counting has begun. And every six points matters.

A tale of two first penalties

West Ham v Watford

Saturday 10^th February

Never mind that we’d got on a wrong train and had to go back a stop from Aldgate, we made it to Upton Park for the second time in two weeks, with Joss predicting a 1-0 win, in plenty of time to join in the pre-match warm-up shouts. Joss, who’d been chatty on the train and quick to pick up the Spanish he was supposed to have learnt for today, had a bit of a headache from falling out of bed last night and didn’t shout as much as usual but I made up for him. We were twenty rows further back than a fortnight ago and amongst a loud bunch of kids who kept the shouting up all game.

It was the best of times on 13 minutes, when Henderson, who’d already looked better than he has been, was pulled back in the box by Anton Ferdinand and awarded a penalty. Our glee turned to apprehension when we saw he was to take it. In a long build-up, Calum Davenport was booked for encroaching but when Henderson stepped up, he calmly slotted it into the bottom left hand corner and the Horns were a goal ahead. It was Watford’s first Premiership penalty and Henderson’s first goal of the season. Such firsts so late in the term are amongst the reasons we are last.

Johan Cavalli, the French midfielder we signed on the transfer deadline day for free from Istres, made his debut and looked skilful and effective, shielding the ball well and weaving around players easily. Unable to read his name and not having heard it at the beginning, the deft touches he displayed led me to assume he was our Brazilian signing, Douglas Rinaldi. Anyway, I thought he was the most effective of the three midfielders who came in January that I have seen so far. He was playing where Hameur Bouazza would be, though, so I hope Betty can find a way to keep them both in the team. If so, it might have to be Damien Francis who makes way.

We were pretty resilient in defence, and when “England’s Number One” (who played his full debut for the national side in our lame 1-0 defeat to Spain on Wednesday) was called on to perform, he made a fine save from a Yossi Benayoun long range effort. Marlon Harewood missed a number of chances and we didn’t have too many more but we went in up at the break. Carlos Tevez came on in the second half and was their biggest threat for the next fifty minutes.

However, West Ham’s best chance came when our captain, Gavin Mahon, was adjudged to have fouled their captain, Nigel Reo Coker, and they were awarded their first penalty of the season. After we took our hands out of our heads, we joined in another bout of “England’s number one”. Foster, however, went the wrong way and could only watch as…Harewood hit it wide. I led another chant of “That’s why you’re going down” as West Ham had their worst of times. I do love this type of schadenfreude.

There was plenty to sing about and I led quite a few today. “Is this a library” and the Moses Ashikodi song after he came on, which was evidently new to many around. Steve Kabba also put a lot of work on and was rewarded with 2 chants. Mine (his name to the “Come on, come on” tune) was superseded by a “Super, super Steve, super, super Steve, super, super Steve, super Stevie Kabba”. We finished with “the Horns are staying up”. The Hammers next game is against Charlton, ours against Wigan. Then we play Charlton at the beginning of March. Nothing is absolutely ruled out yet. It is the epoch of belief.

We walked to East Ham, getting there a lot more quickly and easily than last time and a guy (Hammer) I play football with at Regents Park, Eric, was there by the ticket gates. I gave him a big hug, which he just loved. Joss and I practised more Spanish on the way home and he was remembering stuff well. I promised we’d take him abroad in the summer if he makes sufficient effort with the language. How do you say “bring on the FA Cup run” in Espanol?

False Starts

Watford v Bolton

Saturday 3^rd February

Hot chocolate break and with Charlton and West Ham losing, Wigan goalless and the Yellows in the ascendant, I was feeling hopeful. We are on 15 points and have played a game fewer than the Addicks and Irons who are on 20 each. On the 21^st we play our game in hand against the Latics who started the day with 22. Forget the ManUÔ game, back to back home wins will restart our Premiership season.

Scottish international Gareth Williams debuted as substitute for the debutant Lee Williamson in the second half but after a good chance for us, Bolton slowly gained the upper hand. The Rookery, however, was completing its conversion into celebratory mode. The shout was transformed to “We’re the back row” and “We’re the front row over here” (“right/left side” away) but it’s the first time we’ve had it at home and Joss was pleased. A few shouts in and the middle of the stand joined in too, resulting in a three-part round. On the field, though, threat after threat resulted in a Bolton corner that Ben Foster fluffed a punch at, resulting in a shot from 9 yards for Anelka to whack through the bodies and in. We were straight in with “Yellow Army” but then Bolton slowed the game and frustration began to set in.

Five minutes after the goal Hameur Bouazza was inexplicably substituted (the people wanted Henderson off) and another ten later Steve Kabba made his home debut for Francis. We had 3 strikers on the pitch but when the ball dropped for a shooting opportunity for Will Hoskins, he passed it (poorly) to Kabba and nothing came of it. There had been and were groans and moans and shouts and catcalls. What had happened to Moses Ashikodi? Why was Henderson still on the pitch? Why buy these attackers if you’re not going to use them instead of someone who hasn’t scored all season? In the final minute, their goalie Jaaskelainen handled outside the box; we called for a red card, got a yellow and a wasted free kick. Many fans left early and the team were booed off.

I didn’t join in. The performance was poor but there was a lot of heart. Bolton are in fifth place and renowned for making it hard for teams much better than us to play. To expect us to win was too much, even after the recent victories. Although there is some understandable frustration at Betty’s selection policies, the booing will not help a team in bottom place in the league. It is like a mother insulting her special-needs son’s intelligence. It ain’t helping matters. Charlton and West Ham lost 1-0 too but Wigan won by the same score. There are now 10 points and an eight-goal difference between us and safety. If we are to stay up, our season has to start

The mouse roars

Manchester United v Watford

Wednesday 31^st January

Drawing into Manchester Piccadilly Station at about twenty past six, Joss commented on the wet platforms. While much of the city has changed since I studied there between 1989 and 1992, the weather remains a constant element: reliably drizzly. We walked over to Piccadilly Gardens and got onto a packed tram for Old Trafford with foreign fans and a drunk local. I wiped my glasses dry again.

Joss (who already knew we’d drawn Ipswich at home in the fifth round of the cup) forecasted 3-0 to the Golden Boys for the night, the first time he’s been so unrealistic, in my view. I think this (and his refusal (a) to say whether he preferred Wayne Rooney or Christiano Ronaldo and (b) to be impressed by the stadium later) is a mark of his complete conversion to the yellow side. After the warranted abuse we hurled at their fans later, there can be no going back.

Outside the stadium we got talking to Anders from Sweden, a Watford fan who’d been converted after playing “Football Manager” back in 1998, and had spent £20 getting from Stockholm to Stanstead and a further £200 getting from there to Manchester. Al Gore would not be impressed at that ratio. To add to his expenditure, he’d put a tenner on Damien Francis scoring the only goal in a 1-0 Watford victory, at 35-1. He talked about our last stint in the Premiership and I explained a little to Joss about the victories over Liverpool and Chelsea in the 1999-2000 season.

We said our goodbyes (though he was just five rows in front of us inside) and took our back-row seats about 25 minutes before kick-off among fans who’d already started shouting encouragement to the team warming up. The rest of the stadium was quiet (due perhaps to the fact that it was mostly empty) and we could read the seats at the Stretford End but not the “big” screen. As though we’d willed him into appearing by mentioning his winning goal more than seven years previously in the 1-0 win at Anfield with Anders, Tommy Mooney was a few rows down in a flat cap (looking slightly Michael Stipe-like) and being celebrated.

Well, the Yellow Army’s enthusiasm far out lasted the resistance of the eleven men on the pitch. After twenty minutes Jay Demerit was penalised for pulling back Ole Gunnar Solskjaer in the box (though it looked like the hobbit had handballed it first) and Ronaldo dummied (meaning a bunch of players encroached) and scored from the spot. United toyed with us and perhaps thought they didn’t need to try too hard but we defended well against such nonchalance though hardly threatened them. United fans’ shouts for Rooney were hijacked by us for Mooney (turning into “Sign him up”) and we offered to sing for them as per. A minute or so before the break with the score still 1-0 (to the referee) I joined in the “Time for prawn sandwiches” chant and had to explain it to my nephew.

United were all over us to an even greater extent in the second half but it still took 15 minutes for their fans to wake up. Then Lloyd Doyley, who wears the same number shirt as Joss (but isn’t 12 years old) put his head on a cross and got himself an own goal. The lad played a massive part last season but hasn’t featured so much this. Painful to start here and do that. More painful because the inevitability of a goal had finally kick-started home support just a minute or three previously. Doyley’s almost seemed a response to that. I started a “We’re gonna win 3-2” chant, but it wasn’t until 11 minutes and two goals later that the idea took off. This time it was “We’re gonna win 5-4” and we got a laugh.

There were the usual songs for the team but with the competition over, the focus on the quiet of the stadium consumed us. “Your support is fucking shit”, “4-0 and you still don’t sing”, “We sing cos we love our team” and even two rounds of “United” (to do as we offered) were followed by “Worst support we’ve ever seen”. In addition, our support split to “We’re the right side over here” and “We’re the left side over here”, which has inexplicably been Joss’ favourite since the game at Craven Cottage. Aidy broke his rule and waved during the game to us when bid to, and we left still shouting.

The greatest disappointment was not the score but the fact that I never heard the roar of 70,000 people. Deyika picked us up and we had take-away pizza at his place on the eleventh floor in Moss Side, from the window of which you can see the ground. Miho and I watched Desperate Housewives on E4 while Deyika beat Joss three times at Pro Evolution Soccer 3.

Thursday 1^st February

The paper on the train home (and Aidy’s email) related the fact that we’d signed three more players (Gareth Williamson, Cedric Aninel, Johan Cavalli) and taken another (Douglas Rinaldi) on loan just before the transfer deadline. We may have resigned ourselves to going down, but the manager is insisting that we are preparing for the future (he doesn’t admit that this means promotion next year).

Magic

West Ham v Watford (F.A. Cup 4th Round)

Saturday 27^th January

Julie joined Joss and I at Euston and we got onto a Northern Line train and changed to the Hammersmith Line at Moorgate for Upton Park. We had fat chips from a chippie with the local team’s players posted on the wall and took a picture outside the turrets of the Boleyn Ground, with Julie in my hat. Our seats were in an almost empty section of Row B, with much of our bodies lower than the pitch.

West Ham started brightly and hit the crossbar but spurred on by the louder travelling fans, Watford pressured and created chances of our own. We had a goal disallowed for offside and a second shot was cleared off the line by a defender’s arm, unseen by the officials. We taunted West Ham’s latest acquisition, Lucas Neill with “Here for the money, you’re only here for the money” after he got a yellow card and generally outsang the home crowd. Just before the break, their keeper, Roy Carroll, made a hsh of a punch and the ball fell to Anthony McNamee, whose scissor kick bounced over the knee of a defender on the line and into the back of the net for his first goal of the season and third ever for the Golden Boys.

I tried to taunt the locals with “2-0 and you lost the cup” but nobody joined in and when they finally found their voice as West Ham had a spell in our half (“I’m forever blowing bubbles”) we just chanted “You’ve only got one song” back at them. During this period, Julie asked if we had a player called “Welling” after I had shouted encouragement to one of our midfielders (“Well in”)… Teddy Sheringham came on and, apropos of Celebrity Big Brother, I began a “Teddy’s girl’s a racist” that did get backing. Watford held out against the introduction of a third striker and frustration was evident in the claret and blue on the pitch. It finished 1-0 to the Golden Boys, our first back-to-back wins of the season and our first win away. We clapped them off and sang the manager’s name.

The Hammers have done a lot of business in the transfer window and injuries ruled out a couple of players today so we’ll have to see if this accomplishment can be repeated in two weeks’ time in the league when their new guys are settled. Clearly, the three points are more important than an F.A. Cup run but as we sang “Que sara, sara, whatever will be, will be, we’re going to Wem-buh-ley” in the street after the game, there could be no doubt that the cup retains its “magic” for many of the fans. Conjuring a win of any sort out can only be good for the players, too. Fingers crossed for a relatively easy home tie in the Monday draw.

Gutsy

Watford v Blackburn

Tuesday 23^rd January

We were locking up our bikes when Watford went ahead in the 12^th minute, this because I can’t take mine (actually Jun’s, after mine self-destructed last week) onto a train before seven o’clock. It had been an own goal by Emerton, heading in well from a Tommy Smith cross, and from what we saw of the rest of the half, Watford deserved it. Henderson was in the thick of it and Bouazza was at his best. However much we dominated, though, Blackburn looked fast and dangerous on the break but with no end product until after a ridiculous Watford throw-in, Benny McCarthy headed in seconds before the half-time whistle was due.

I have to admit that I feared defeat not least because Blackburn have been on a pretty good run and beat Man City 3-0 in Manchester on Saturday. I expected them to come out hungry but I think we managed to stop them playing the way they’d have liked. Meanwhile, the Rookery, in excellent voice tonight, took the piss out of Brad Friedel’s orange strip “Bradley’s got a gay kit, la la la la” and I started a “Bradley, Bradley, blow us a kiss” chant. Though race is off limits, casting aspersions about sexuality is still fair game (discuss). Al Bangura went in hard on Robbie Savage twice and the second of these challenges resulted in an injury for one of the league’s most-hated. We joined in a “Bang bang bang bang, Al Bangura” ditty in celebration. Not sure I’d have booed Savage off if I’d known it was a break, though.

We had a few half-arsed shots after the break but Blackburn looked livelier. Despite that, Jay DeMerit, who’d come on after half an hour for the injured Danny Shittu, rose to head in a Bouazza cross and put us 2-1 up with twenty minutes to go. Had Hoskins put away the golden opportunity from a Stewart cross a minute later, the rest of the time would’ve been a cruise. Henderson also had two headers go wide before Blackburn mounted a late challenge for an equaliser. We held on though, and got only our second league victory of the season.

We nipped into the ticket office to sort out a mistake with the West Ham tickets and cycled back happy and cold. I hadn’t joined in the “Who needs Ashley Young?” song, which was to the same tune as “We’ve got Ashley Young” on Saturday, but the £9.65 million that Aston Villa have paid for him is more than we’d get at the end of the season and good business sense. Neither had I been tempted by the “We ARE staying up, said we are staying up” number, but this result and the renewed promise of wins at home means I am back to hedging my bets.

Down and out in Witton and Aston

Aston Villa v Watford
Saturday 20th January

Engineering works meant the timetable I’d used to arrange Kerry putting Joss onto a train we were on from Euston for Birmingham New Street was about half an hour later than we thought. Still, delay aside it went smoothly and Kerry waved us goodbye from the platform after Watford Boy Joss took his seat next to Jun. Prepared with his PSP, didn’t fancy a sudoku and Jun and I read the newspaper and magazine. Joss and I changed to a Walsall bound train and Jun went to walk around the Bullring.

We passed through Duddeston, where we had arranged to meet my friend from Durrants School after the match, and many of the Villa fans got off at Aston. We detrained at Witton and bought very white chips from a tattooed female chippie and ate them outside the entrance we were directed to by a helpful local fan, who wished us all the best. Inside the stadium I recognised a few faces but my ‘pledge’ earlier in the season to make an effort to talk to fans has been relegated to a ‘consideration’. The guy to my right was running his own analysis on the match as though he had been requested to do so by his immediate neighbours.

There was more effort this week and our confidence grew as Villa seemed there for the taking after their poor run of late, putting passes astray and lacking any cutting edge, though Foster was there when they did get through. We had two good chances of our own. Young (who turned down West Ham in the week and has agreed terms with our opponents on a fee that could apparently rise to nine and a half million pounds) was left out; Hoskins and Priskin started together for the first time and the former Rotherham man had a good shot tipped over by Sorensen, as did Bouazza.

There wasn’t the atmosphere among the Yellow Army that there had been at the Fulham match, and I’m not sure that the shallow nature of the seating wasn’t partly the cause. The Villa fans weren’t much better but when they did all get involved very late on (a case of “singing when you’re winning”, unfortunately), the ground echoed impressively. I’ve been in different stands each of the three times I’ve watched Watford at this stadium but this is the first against the Villa. My dad took me to a 1984 FA Cup semi-final that saw us grind out a victory against lower division Plymouth. Twenty years later, with Joss, Luke, Jun and Faisel, I watched us concede our first goals in another run to the semis that ended that day against Southampton.

We failed to clear a corner properly a few minutes from the end of normal play and a double deflection off of Malky Mckay and Gavin Mahon put us one down. Our efforts to rectify this situation saw us stretched and Agbonlahor put them 2-0 ahead after Danny Shittu, who’d done his central defending well, slipped and let him through for a one-on-one with Foster in injury time. It seemed unfair and somehow expected. I finally admitted we were down and we started trudging out, breaking into a run when we saw our train waiting but got on with plenty of time for Joss to follow a guy, who unknown to me, had lost his wallet in the jog to a (different) carriage, and return it.

On the train there was a Villa kid enjoying the win and talking about “the clumsy one”, meaning Shittu, whose surname he enjoyed making a pun on. It was hard to listen to but almost forgotten after we’d met Jun at New Street, headed back on the same line to meet Tessa at Duddeston, and missed the station in the darkness and on the assumption we’d stopped on the line somewhere. Tessa drove up through the traffic we’d arranged our meeting to circumvent, picked us up shivering outside Aston station and took us to Star City for pizza.

We had a good chat, catching up and sharing news about the different friends we’d stayed in contact with. Both of us have narrowed that group down since we last met and I can only hope that we’ll stay friends however lax I am at maintenance. Queuing in the bowling arcade a little later, a kid half Joss’ size came over and commented “Yellow Army my arse”. “Shame,” Tessa commented from behind a hand shielding a laugh. Lanes were booked up so we had a couple of games of air-hockey and a Blues fan offered his regret at the result. Tessa dropped us off at New Street again and Brian and Mum picked us up at Nuneaton for the drive back to Bulkington. We all practised yoga positions and chatted until late and petted Nettle, their 14-year-old spaniel, who is big and slow but still affectionate.

Sunday 21st January

The five of us high-fived our way through two hours of bowling at Nuneaton bowl, where Joss got his personal best (96), before returning for a delish veggie moussaka and a trifle for the golden boys, only the bigger of whom was interested. We wound down and then trained it home, Joss meeting Kerry at the station just before seven.

It wasn't all yellow

Watford v Liverpool

Saturday 13^th January

After he’d shown me the corpse of a rat on the pavement (last week it was the skeleton of some animal I guessed had been a fox), Joss and I cycled down Ebury Way to the game (it was no ‘match’ today) and got in a couple of minutes late. There are certainly no regrets or a feeling that we might have missed anything. The first half was lamentable: we stood off them all over the park, allowing them to pass around us like it was a training match. Any hope that last week would provide new confidence died quickly. The reds put two in the goal in front of us though the first looked like it involved a foul on our keeper Foster. As the stand I was in collectively booed the players off at half time, we were as dead as that rodent.

It has been said that the Play-Off Final was won in the tunnel. One wonders if this game was too. Liverpool came off the back of a 6-3 midweek home defeat to a second-string youthful Arsenal team and though they didn’t shine, they looked determined. “I heard Rafa Benitez (Liverpool’s manager) is leaving Liverpool to work for Michael Jackson…because of his capacity to manage to get 11 kids to come and spank you at home.” It’s a shit joke but it is worse for Watford.

Betty has talked sometimes about “the Watford way” and this means primarily energy and work rate. What was lacking today was the “belief” that I have seen in matches, even our 4-0 mauling at Stamford Bridge. There were no yellow cards because there was no “heart”/“desire”/“soul”/“grit”. It’s hard to define. We tried harder in the second half from where I sat, and Jordan Stewart powered a long curling shot against the bar from about 30 yards but this after we’d let in a third at the beginning of the half. Yeah, it was even deader soon after we’d dragged ourselves back out.

A few minutes before the end Joss asked if we should leave, and we went to buy programmes and a T-shirt for me and jacket for him in the club shop. When we got back he joined Phil in the bedroom on the X-Box, I had a cuppa and cycled over to see Trevor, Sarah and Kasey in South Oxhey. I think Kasey is getting used to me a bit so she didn’t cry ALL the time I was holding her. Borrowed an eighties Name That Tune game and bought a Family Railcard at Harrow & Wealdstone in preparation for the away games ahead.

If we play like this next week at Aston Villa, our season has gone some way other than the Watford one.

Thou Shalt Score

Watford v Stockport County (FA Cup 3^rd Round)

Saturday, 6^th January

After a cup of tea, Joss and I cycled down Ebury Way in the drizzle of another Watford winter and got into the stadium to see this week’s (cup-tied) signings from League One Rotherham, Will Hoskins and Lee Williamson, introduced on the pitch before we take on League Two opposition. With 15 league and 1 cup goal for the Millers this season, striker Hoskins is just below Billy Sharp in the high scorers’ table and if he can get even a quarter of that total for Watford he’d be worth his share of the £1.2 million total fee. I’d told Joss that I’d only be happy with three goals or more and we are hoping that the debutant Moses Ashikodi can get his name on the score sheet. Boothroyd had left Ashley Young on the bench, perhaps adding a few pounds to his potential transfer value; apparently, Liverpool, Arsenal, Tottenham and 3 other premiership clubs have made bids. Will we be able to hold on to him?

We got to our wet seats but a glance around showed that there were many empty ones further back and out of the rain so we retreated a few rows, an example that was repeated over the next twenty minutes by tens of others as the rain got slightly harder. Stockport’s blue fans were enjoying it, loud and proud replete with flags but their “County” chant sounded like “Chelsea” to us. Although Stockport had a good first minute chance, our Biblically-named debutant had netted from a corner within seven minutes only for it to be disallowed. Another six minutes later and the 5’6” 10-stone Anthony McNamee had curled one into the goal but this was also ruled out, this time for a foul in the build-up. As the rain got harder, Joss suggested that “Maybe God hates Watford”.

Muddy Moses was already chasing everything and such hard work is bound to make you a crowd favourite: Curly and his mates, who’d moved to sit directly behind us, were wondering aloud about possible songs for him and the loudest voice in the Rookery (mine) was shouting encouragement. As we put on more pressure, County striker Poole broke forward, beat the offside trap and nutmegged Foster in the goal to put the visitors, 59 places below us in the league, 1-0 ahead. Cue “Premiership? You’re having a laugh” mockery from the away fans but we scored less than ten minutes later after Henderson flicked on a corner for Malkay Mckay to score with a very casual poke-in. Hot chocolate to celebrate and it was all even at the break.

Two minutes after the restart Henderson had got forward into a great position with the ball a tap-in away but somehow didn’t manage to get a shot off. The ball did get pushed out to Smith, though, who scored his second goal in 11 days. Both sides then missed good chances but after Young came on for Henderson there was little doubt we’d score more. Refreshments at half-time had provided the inspiration for Curly’s lot to come up with a song for Moses and a bunch of us at the front joined in as he continued working hard in chasing everything down. Our third came from a Jordan Stewart free-kick, which Mckay, injured in the process, met at the post in front of us. The rout was completed a few minutes later when a back-pass to the Country keeper resulted in a Paul Robinson moment: Spencer sliced at the ball, which he missed completely, and Moses, chasing it as ever, beat him to the loose ball, bundling it into the corner.

A yellow card followed his celebration: he headed straight for where his name had been shouted all game and in my efforts to help him mark the moment, I tripped over a step, taking Joss down with me. Lying on my back in the aisle, I could only feign serious injury and get carried away or laugh the embarrassment off. Joss, who’d been lamenting the fact that this game has no relevance to our Premiership struggle, accused me of being drunk. Maybe I was just a tad over-excited. Malkay obliged the chants with a wace after being substituted and we applauded the rest of the players off the pitch at full-time and began speculating about a possible knock-on effect in the league.

After we got back, with my socks on Kerry’s radiator to dry for a second Saturday in a row and the Liverpool v Arsenal match on the telly, I had a couple of games of chess with Joss on the set I gave him on Thursday. I taught him the rules last summer and he even got to take my queen in the first match. Perhaps more importantly, he has learned how to be a better loser (no sulking). Being a Watford fan, he has little choice.

The Dewey system

Fulham v Watford

New Year’s Day, Monday 1^st January 2007

As his mother had not returned from her New Year’s revelries, Joss, who’d spent the night at his friend’s, was home alone without the money or means to get to Watford Junction and onto a train for Euston. Fortunately, Faisel was able to pick him up and ensure he got safely onto a delayed Silverlink service. I met him there and we tubed it to Hammersmith and walked the twenty five minutes along Fulham Palace Road to Craven Cottage. After I told him they’d held Chelsea on Saturday, Joss thought we’d lose this match. I was hoping their exertions combined with our shorter-than-usual match meant we might have a little more in the fuel tank.

There were barcodes on the tickets, which were read at the turnstiles, but still a steward at the gate. Pointless rationalisation. We had tops removed from our bottles (I was rehydrating myself) and walked behind the length of the Putney Stand - vibrating with our fans’ enthusiasm – to our seats on the left side near the front. A couple of kids who sit in front of us in the Rookery were in front of us here too. We kicked off and the fans kept up the noise but in the sixth minute Fulham (bloody ex-Horn Heidar Helguson again – this time with his head) had the ball in the back of the net. The Fulham crowd to the left of us, silent until now, were up and celebrating but I joined the Watford fans in taunting them (for their silence thus far, I guessed).

Watford were having trouble maintaining possession and Danny Shittu went off injured after only thirty minutes. Helguson put the ball in the net again but this was disallowed for offside and again we taunted the Fulham crowd, which was so quiet that the chant “Is this a library?” had been asked by the travelling Yellow Army. Our best chance of the half was headed over by Tommy Smith. In the break, we drank hot chocolate from my flask and identified the flags in the programme denoting the players’ nationalities.

Smith didn’t come out for the second half (Boothroyd later claimed it was the worst half of football of our season so far but I am not convinced) but was replaced by Henderson to the dismay of some around us. There is an element which sings his name though, and had even done so as he warmed up on the touchline in the first half. It can only be based on previous form. His first shot was weak though on target and somehow he was penalised when Fulham defender and keeper collided, resulting in an eight minute delay and the stretchering off of Anti Niemi, who’d landed head first. I hoped the reserve keeper would be out of practice but even the thought is merely a triumph of naivety over experience.

With about 20 minutes remaining, Joss said he thought it’d end up 0-0. I frowned down at him. How could it, when it was already 1-0 to Fulham I harrumphed. It’s not, he correctly replied and drew my attention to the scoreboard behind us. The first “goal” had also been ruled offside, which is why our fans had been mocking the Fulham crowd. I’d spent almost the entire game thinking we were losing when we weren’t. It was a welcome relief as well as a bit of an embarrassment. Classify that under “not paying enough attention to the pitch.”

We urged the Golden Boys on for the nine minutes of rainy added time and Henderson produced a fantastic shot, reminiscent of Marlon King’s goal against West Ham, which thundered off the crossbar. It was certainly the best I’ve seen of him this season and you wonder whether it might have lifted his game if it had gone in. Fulham could also have won it at the death, when Ben Foster, who’d commanded his box superbly, coming out and claiming corners and through balls, was rounded by Collins John. Foster managed to push the ball out wide though and John could only hit the side netting. The game ended with Tamas Priskin, who’d looked quite sharp in the first half but quieter in the second on the right, got a second yellow.

On the train back we chatted with a QPR fan who got on at Shepherd’s Bush with his sister and who was so engrossed in conversation with us that when he got off he bade us farewell and ignored her. She called after him but was clearly then embarrassed by the event, sitting opposite those who witnessed her apparent insignificance. After pizza and pasta at home, we went bowling with Jun, Miho and Deyika and my form was so bad that big Watford Boy was beaten by smaller Watford Boy for the first time. Plus, I lost a tenner to Deyika, as I finished last of the five.

Tuesday 2^nd January

Today’s paper details a transfer I heard a fan talking about as we trooped out yesterday. Watford have signed the striker Moses Ashikodi, who was released by Millwall after apparently threatening a team-mate with a knife. “One for the future” is Betty’s verdict. Let’s hope we get some for now, too.