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.

One hundred percent

Watford v Sheffield United

Saturday 18^th August

Cycled to Euston and shared a carriage to the Junction with singing Blades fans. Back on my bike, I arrived at Kerry’s about quarter past two and Joss and I began the walk soon after but Doggy picked us up in the spitting rain and gave us a lift to the top of Harwoods Road. Z-Cars was going as we went into the shop, where we got Joss a new top with his name and 13 on. Missed the kick-off.

Watford were defending the Rookery end but the first half saw United with the better chances, one of which was off of Watford defender Jay DeMerit’s head. Mart Poom in goal was equal to the challenges though and Lloyd Doyley had the run of the half when he won a ball by our corner flag and made it to the other end of the pitch. Marlon King was out on the right for some reason, which didn’t seem to afford him many shooting chances though he danced around one of their men a few times.

In the second half especially, Lee Williamson shone with some great little runs and it was fitting that it was he who received a Tommy Smith pass and hit the back of the net with our only shot on target of the game. Watford bossed the second half and could have had another goal but Darius Henderson’s header was wide. Steve Kabba came on with twenty minutes left for Tommy Smith, who doesn’t look on his game but had cleared a James Beattie free-kick off the line as well as setting up the only goal of the match.

Knowing that the ex-Hornet Danny Webber had scored a last-minute winner in this fixture last year I was a little nervous as the clock wound down but he’d already gone off when we got to stoppage time and we deserved what we got. Six points out of six against two of the division’s fancied sides. Come on. As we walked out, we were able to check on the other scores of the day on the numerous flat screens the club has put up. At least some of the millions we’ve received over the last year have now been spent.

Today would have been Luke’s 21^st birthday so I wrote in a card that Kerry will take to the crematorium tomorrow. He is loved and missed.

Life is just a game

Watford v Gillingham (Carling Cup 1^st Round)

Tuesday 14^th August

When I bought the tickets on ebay, I didn’t think that Watford might be playing the same evening and so it was that Prince came first. This time I went with Julie. Prince has said that it will be a different show each night and began with 1999, which got the evening off to a more upbeat start than Saturday. The set was better too, with longer guitar solos that left Julie wanting to come back.

We went to the after-show party at Indigo2 and the purple one turned up about 1 and jammed and played some more of his tracks. We danced near the front for a couple of hours and left satiated about half four. It was only the following afternoon that I found out Watford had changed ten men in their starting line-up (Tamas Priskin remained from Saturday) and cruised 3-0 past Gillingham with Priskin, Douglas Rinaldi and Alex Campana scoring and Richard Lee saving a penalty at 0-0.

Joy in repetiton

Wolverhampton Wanderers v Watford

11^th August 2007

My brother Trevor and his girlfriend Sarah brought my niece Kasey over last night and we stayed in, chatted and played Risk. After a walk along the canal and through Regents Park this afternoon, we had a pizza at a chain restaurant near Euston and ended up resurrecting last year’s argument about the amount of money Watford earned from TV by being promoted. This time, Trevor claimed my position had been his, which I guess is a form of admission that I was right…

Anyway, afterwards I headed over to the Greenwich Pensioner, a pub in Poplar that I’d rung in the week and whose landlady had agreed to show the match live. I chose the pub for its location close to the O2 Centre (Millennium Dome), where I was heading for my second concert of three in a month. I turned up ten minutes into the game and felt the eyes of the locals on me. The game was goalless and Wolves slowly seemed to be having more of it, with a great chance being put high over by Olofinjana.

Just before halftime though, the Wolves midfielder made amends by lobbing Mart Poom after being put clear through with only our keeper to beat. The second half started with them threatening to increase the lead and narrowly missing twice. Jobi McAnuff had a chance too but fired straight at the keeper. The landlord, who I’d chatted football with, came and sat with me and I told him (a United fan) about Joss’ conversion (“Nah, that’s out of order as it happens”). In the meantime two other locals rehashed an argument they’d obviously run through before (Arsenal a foreign team) and one that I’d used on Trevor when he was being racist about Watford players.

Rod and Air turned up with about 30 mins to go and Rod proved to be a lucky charm again. The two live matches he’s been to have resulted in Watford wins and with three minutes left on the clock Watford won a free kick just outside the box that Jordan Stewart took. He’s got a mean shot on him but the deflection was probably what took this one in for his first Watford goal. Earlier today I’d read that the latest goal scored in the Premiership last season was by Bolton against Watford in the 96th minute. So it was that balance was achieved with the foul on Steve Kabba leading to a penalty at a similar time of the game.

Marlon King strode up to take it and blasted high into the net and I was up on my feet in the pub. One of the older locals smiled at me. I shook the landlord’s hand as I left a few minutes later. Football’s great.

Rod dropped me off at Canary Wharf station where I met Faisel and we caught the tube one stop to North Greenwich. I gave him the Prince ticket I bought on ebay and we went in to see the man, who opened with Purple Rain and played many of his hits but not all of them all the way through. His show is flawless but leaves you wanting more when once he delivered it all.

Franchise football

Milton Keynes Dons v Watford

Wednesday 1^st August

stadium:mk is so new that I had trouble locating it before leaving London and got off at Milton Keynes only to discover a taxi ride was required to complete our journey. Being driven between the new town’s roundabouts feels like a giant version of join-the-dots but it’s not a pretty picture that you’d see from above. I’d been told that tickets had been sent back when I phoned Watford and that we could buy them “on the door” but a queue of hundreds snaking round the car park indicates the length of the wait we’re in for. Several fans just decide against the debacle and leave but after about fifteen minutes’ in line, sections of the queue start to break for the turnstile on the other side of the ground, so we do likewise only to find we have joined another queue for a poorly-staffed and incomplete ticket office which runs out of tickets twice before I pay £10 & £5 to get in twenty minutes after kick-off. My frustration is compounded by the fact that one of the electronic ticket readers isn’t working but the steward standing next to it can’t even be bothered to tell people.

The tempers of several large men made to wait had been rubbing up against each other and the stewards but when some of the latecomers started singing “We’ve got too many fans”, the mixture of pride and humour saw off the resentment that lingered. The outside of the stadium was more impressive (though, in black, it felt a touch like an 80’s dream) than the unfinished inside which lacked easily-visible signs, seats in the upper tiers, a scoreboard and a home crowd. Watford, in their Beko sponsored shirts and black shorts, were defending the goal we were sitting behind and were forced to do so when Dons’ players broke through on a couple of occasions. The new keeper Mart Poom,, the Lativan international we got from Arsenal, looked steady (if old – Joss commented that he looked tired).

In the break Joss got Jay Demerit’s autograph on his shirt and there was a ginger guy in the stand signing too but I didn’t know who he was… The second half saw us in their area for long periods and we struck the frame of the goal twice and forced saves from their keeper. Although it was a friendly, there was a least one significant scuffle but no cards were shown. Tamas Prisking missed a second chance and was replaced with Henderson, who received a standing ovation from some fans which may have been down more to his devotion in refusing to consider going to Preston rather than his successes of last season.

Hameur Bouazzaa, who didn’t play tonight, has let it be known he’d like to go to a Premiership team and Fulham have shown a £4 million interest. Danny Shittu didn’t play either (Clarke Carlisle was in the centre of defence) and I am still wondering about him. We spent a million and three-quarters on Jobi McAnuff from Crystal Palace and brought in Matt Jackson from Wigan. This game ended 0-0 and although we were the better side, we hardly outclassed them. The Championship is a slog, though.

Afterwards, Joss and I walked past oversized stores to Bletchley station and practised Spanish on the platform. He can say “Would you like a pizza?” and “What nationality are you?”. We head to Barcelona at the end of the month, returning just before the Ipswich home game.

Could you be the next Attorney General?

Many of us will agree with Lord Goldsmith’s own assessment that “it is a particularly appropriate moment for [him] to move on” but perhaps he would not concur with those who believe his next position should be on a bottom bunk in a cell. In case you are thinking of applying for the now-vacant position, here are a few questions that may help confirm your suitability for the post.

1. Which of these is the best way to be noticed?

a. Work hard as a barrister and then obtain extensive political experience.

b. Be friends with a friend of the PM and make a donation to the Labour party.

2. The PM wants to start a “pre-emptive” war. Do you…?

a. Clarify the need for a UN Resolution that authorises such force.

b. Equivocate and then fall into line with the man who could sack you.

3. Honours may be being offered in return for donations/loans. Would you…?

a. Remove yourself from involvement in a political scandal involving friends.

b. Insist you will decide on any prosecutions and then take no action.

4. There is substantial evidence that a British company is bribing foreign officials. What is the correct procedure?

a. Allow a full investigation by the Serious Fraud Office to run its course.

b. Depends whether it’s an arms company or not.

5. The anti-corruption watchdog, the OECD, requests details about allegations of bribery. You should…?

a. Allow full disclosure. The UK Government must be seen to be firmly anti-corruption.

b. Order British investigators to conceal payments.

How was it for you? If you answered mostly (a), you could be the next Attorney General of a democratic government which does not think itself above both domestic and international law. But if you answered mostly (b), you are either Lord Goldsmith or you could be in line for a move to Buckingham Gate.

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.

Disarming

Sheffield United v Watford

Saturday 28^th April

The coincidence of the meeting of Disarm DSEi (Defence Systems and Equipment international) at University of London Union, five minutes from home, with Watford’s long journey to Sheffield for a game which would have no impact on our season (bar our pride) had made the decision to write up some leaflets and go recruiting (as well as get some ideas for the “Stop the Arms Trade Week” of June 2^nd to 10^th) an easy one. I met Becky outside the ULU as police cameramen took pictures of the many people milling about, most of whom had nothing to do with the event. We went inside and took seats but a roar went up from outside indicating the arrest of one of the activists, who turned out to be a fourteen-year-old boy, and we went back outside to see if we could do anything and be photographed for our troubles.

The core of the spirally arranged ensemble were uniformed in black and the talk of action was restrained by the fact that this was a “public meeting” (about 30 people were there) and the fact that many of the actions the group planned would obviously be illegal. A woman at the back dressed in a summer dress pointed out that some of the people she knew who would like to be involved were put off by the presence of the police but implied heavily that it was the appearance of the activists that was also a problem. Dressed in a red T-shirt, I knew what she meant. I did put in a word or two about London Campaign Against the Arms Trade but inferred from a reaction or two that we weren’t hardcore enough. I saw a guy I knew from ISM London and the fact that he ignored me said a lot about the gulf between the “serious” protesters here and the people they were supposed to be welcoming. Non-violence is not an option for some.

Still, I did meet a couple of people I’d been in e-mail contact with in my role as co-ordinator of London CAAT, and a few people approached me for details and seemed keen to get involved so I think we took something more from the meeting than a distinction between those who’d been “failing to shut DSEi down for six years” and those who were hoping to be inspired to get involved for the first time. As well as suggesting that I could make a map using Platial or Google MyMaps as a resource for activists, I also offered to put in the time and effort to organise a public demo/protest for September 11^th, and will have to see if anything comes of signing up on the email list.

After a beer I came home and decided (with no plans for tonight – we went to Hampstead New End theatre last night to see a so-so play called Charlie and Henry) not to look up the scores but wait for MoTD. It was much more suspenseful that way and I enjoyed the matches in the race for the title (ManU™ won after going two down but Chelsea were pegged back after taking the lead) nearly as much as watching Clarke Carlisle almost getting sent off for two silly fouls, including an elbow to the face of Jon Stead. Marlon King hit the bar with a lob but that was after Chris Powell had deflected a shot in past Ben Foster and that was the only goal of the game, the first time in two seasons that a game between these two sides had ended in a home win.

That’s why we’re going down

Watford v Manchester City

Saturday 21^st April

Joss and I got in after kick-off again and I greeted the father and son immediately behind us who I’ve chatted with over the last couple of home games. Earlier in the season I pledged to make an effort with fans but have to report one home game away from the end of our Premiership campaign that I have not lived up to that. Although Joss and I started clapping and shouting immediately that we sat down, there was not much of an atmosphere today and I didn’t feel too motivated to take the lead in creating one until the second half.

The first half was poor: the City fans were louder but the game was mediocre. Our best chance came as Damien Francis pulled up injured and until we realised he had to go off we were disappointed that nothing had come of it. City didn’t seem too dangerous but neither did the Golden Boys. Marlon King started for the first time since October but unfortunately that showed, especially with a header in front of us that he directed yards wide.

Nil-nil at half time was a fair representation of a game lacking in most things that get fans involved but I resolved to shout throughout the second half and try to help create a twelfth man. I wasn’t alone. “Aidy Boothroyd’s Yellow Army” is a song that fits well with the “join in” ethos of the club and I led and led and led. However, less than ten minutes after the restart, Ben Foster moved forward to deal with a back pass and disaster. What looked to me like a failure to make a clear decision about whether to whack the ball or pass it to the left-back culminated in a tap into the path of Darius Vassell, who was able to pass into a semi-empty net. Foster, who’d been booed throughout the first half by the visiting fans (he’s a United player on loan to us, remember) suddenly found himself the object of “England’s number one” chants from the fans in blue. Ouch.

The fans, who are used to such adversity, responded to our falling behind by finally getting behind the team. In the absence of Curly (I’d already taken on the ideas behind some of his more abusive shouts) the usual suspects in front of us to our left (who are part of the “front row crew”) led some chants including “The football league is upside down”, which I haven’t heard for a while. I never tried my “land of harts and hornets” number, but contented myself with shouting along to “Yellow Army” etc. It took twenty minutes but a Douglas Rinaldi pass allowed Tamas Priskin to knock in his second goal of the season (2 in the last 4 games) and that only boosted the twelfth man. Unfortunately, that was not enough and another King headed miss meant it finished even and ended any hopes the most optimistic of the followers might have had. Championship football for us from August.

We clapped the players off (I wondered who, including the manager, we’d lose in the summer and think Hameur Bouazza and Danny Shittu (as well as Foster) are the most likely to be objects of transfer interest) and walked back a circuitous route because the police had cordoned off the bottom of Cardiff Road for some reason. Back at Kerry’s, Joss and I did some Spanish, played chess, connect 4 and air hockey and then I spent some time with my sister and her boyfriend. I’ve committed myself to another season ticket. More goals and more victories next season are assured, aren’t they?

An afterthought

Blackburn Rovers v Watford

Wednesday 18^th April

I sent a long overdue email to Rob in Doha and read through a pile of magazines and papers on the floor (pre-recycling) in order to make the place more presentable for our new lodger this weekend. Looking up the Watford score about midnight was almost accidental. All the goals were scored in the first half but Douglas Rinaldi got off the mark at Ewood Park. We went down 3-1 to the other defeated semi-finalists and defeat on Saturday could mean the mathematics finally catch up with the “facts” as we know them.

Blistered and hoarse

Watford v Manchester United (F.A. Cup Semi Final)

Saturday 14^th April

All talk of whether an F.A. Cup run is a good thing is long forgotten as Watford’s Premiership status slipped away (all but mathematically) games ago. Thus, it was with excitement that I woke up to make sandwiches and hot chocolate for the match at Villa Park. The Golden Boys have been in five F.A. Cup Semis (this was ManU™’s 25^th), and my attendance at this makes me a sixty-percenter. My first, twenty-three years ago, resulted in an expected win while my second, three years ago was a disappointing but not unexpected defeat. After ManU™ had thrashed Roma 7-1 on Tuesday of this week, Monday’s chant of “Bring on United” got put into appropriate context and this third semi was always going to require a surprise the likes of which we haven’t had since Luther Blissett scored two at Old Trafford in 1978 to win us a League Cup game when we were in the old Third Division.

I met Jan at the “Doric Arch”, the pub by the bus stops at Euston station and we had a couple of beers before we got on a train to Harrow & Wealdstone, where we disembarked for the specially designated train. There appeared to be only one other fan waiting and we chatted before he moved up towards the front of the platform. When it pulled in, we asked the guard if we could take First Class seats and gleefully did so, knowing that however many piled on at the next few stations, we would be comfortable. Trouble was, there was no piling on. Even at Watford Junction itself, the number of fans was in the tens and we had a quiet carriage (not just the First Class section) to ourselves. Watford’s ticket allowance did not sell out and the lack of atmosphere on the train was an obvious consequence: can we have cup fatigue? Are there fans out there seriously waiting for a final to “make a day of it”?

Jun had joined Jan and I at the pub and Joss got on at Watford (I’d posted his train ticket to him) so we had a little isolated sing-song. Jan, whose allegiance tends towards the Gooners, seemed surprised when I answered that I led chants at the Vic, but after I’d offered him a Watford shirt and he refused in order to stick with his Royal Blue “Suomi” T, Joss and I treated him to a round or two of “We support our local team”, which he took with good grace. I also tried out the chant I’d made up a good few weeks ago but haven’t used yet and said I’d put it to use at Villa Park. There was a short stop at Northampton which we took advantage of to stretch our legs and I greeted other fans on the platform with “we’re the first class, we’re the first class, we’re the first class over here”. One carriage down responded with “we’re the poor class” but other than that, spirit was lacking in the fans on the rails.

Jan slept. We detrained at Aston and sang the ten-minute walk to the ground in the company of the Yellow Army from cars and coaches. Inside, we had another beer (vodka and Stella had been imbibed en route) and took our seats ten rows from the front just as the Golden Boys (in yellow shorts as well as shirts again) finished their warm-up. The atmosphere was great - we were outnumbered and there were empty seats in “our” Doug Ellis stand, but the ground was echoing to songs from both sides - these were not the same ManU™ fans that were at Old Trafford in January. When the team emerged again from the tunnel we launched the Thomson Local confetti I had cut up this morning and half an hour’s scissor work was gone in seconds. Come on you ‘orns.

ManU™ had their big guns out (though Jun thought Ryan Giggs in particular looked bigger on TV) and within six minutes potato head Wayne Rooney had chipped in a goal to get us off to the sort of start I was fearing. Twenty more minutes blurred past and then Hameur Bouazza, who scored two on Monday and is our top-scorer, pulled off a fantastic overhead kick from a Tommy Smith header to put us level. We partied like it was 1999, a song I’d listened to in my pre-match build-up, but before we’d settled down Cristiano Ronaldo had latched onto a Rooney cross and we were behind again. From the position we were in it wasn’t easy to see exactly how effective Watford’s attacks were but we had our fair share and perhaps were unlucky to go into the break a goal down.

The second half saw the same Watford commitment to attack and try to win the game, which made for exciting viewing but plays into United’s counter-attacking style, not that it was immediately effective. We remained in contention but a second Rooney goal finished us off (we haven’t scored more than one away from the Vic all season). Kieran Richardson came on as a United sub and added to their total too and the only remaining heartfelt cheer was for our substitute Marlon King, who has missed the majority of the season with injury and who we’ve missed terribly. Apparently, there has been some interest in him from other Premiership clubs and I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that Bouazza was a summer transfer target too.

It was a great day out: the best atmosphere of any game I’ve been to this season, and no Watford fan could have felt hard done by or expected more. We left singing and were chatted at by an obnoxious Watford fan and then talked to a Dubliner who’d flown over to support United. I felt justified in my oft-sung “We support our local team” number. We queued for fifteen minutes or more to sit in a full First Class section for the train back and played “I spy” again to while away what seemed like a much longer return journey. As we pulled in at the Junction about two and a half hours later, a couple of lads sang “First Class give us a song” and I belted out the song I’d told Jan I would try to get people to sing today (but hadn’t). These guys at least seemed to appreciate my effort:

Land of harts and hornets

Since eighteen eighty one

Golden boys forever

Watford’s marching on!

At home my right thumb still hurt from the blister that cutting up the confetti created and I was hardly able to speak but we caught the end of the highlights on MoTD and felt that we’d had a good day out. Que sera.

Firsts

Watford v Portsmouth

Easter Monday, 9^th April

I got up earlier than I wanted to with legs and neck still aching from yesterday’s exertions as goalkeeper and defender in Regent’s Park (I had a great game: my team mates called me a “professional” keeper). After breakfast I pocketed my season ticket (with a little Post-It I’d written “gloves” on (the ones I used in the park are falling apart)) and cycled to Euston, trained it to the Junction and rode to Kerry’s. She made me a cuppa and Joss and I walked to the ground. I said I expected a draw today but felt that was hopeful after our defeat and their victory two days ago.

We didn’t start well and Pompey went about their business largely unchallenged so it was no surprise that Matthew Taylor had plenty of time to curl in a shot beyond Ben Foster with little more than quarter of an hour gone. The fans in blue, who’d already been quite loud, sang “Let’s all have a disco” and danced in the Vicarage Road end. Going behind did at least serve to rouse the Golden Boys and Tamas Priskin, who’d given the ball away in the run-up to their goal, dribbled well in their box and found himself tripped for a penalty just before the half-hour mark.

Joss pointed out that Darius Henderson’s absence meant someone else had to take our second league penalty of the season and it was Hameur Bouazza who stepped up. I shouted to their keeper, David James, that the achievement of a Premiership record number of clean sheets would not occur today and the Algerian international strode up and coolly proved me right. Further pressure from us followed as we howled at James whenever he had the ball (his facial hair was a tad excessive) but the final goal of the half was a complete surprise. The ball was knocked out of the area and our captain, Gavin Mahon, who has not performed at Premiership level this season, ran in threatening to unleash a left-footed half-volley that I fully expected to reach the back of the stand. Instead, he smashed it with glorious technique into the top corner of the net for his first goal of the season and perhaps the best Watford goal I’ve seen for many years. The kick-off was followed by the half-time whistle: a high to take into the dressing room.

We started the second half as we had ended the first and Priskin got his name on the score sheet for the second time since joining. Since the previous effort was in the abandoned game with Wigan, this goal counted as his first and he ran down the touchline to celebrate with Marlon King, who was sitting behind the bench. The fans went into celebratory mood and our players didn’t let up though Portsmouth had a couple of chances. “Boozer” Bouazza had a shot saved by James and later another shot was parried but he latched onto the rebound to get his second and give us four goals for the first time in the Premiership. “We want five”, we sang, and Boozer seemed especially keen to make that happen, with two long-range shots that went wide. Portsmouth’s sub netted one but when I led the “Let’s all have a disco,” chant a minute or two before the final whistle, the whole of the Rookery joined me in dancing and singing in merriment.

At the final whistle, “England’s number one” turned and threw his gloves into the stand and I caught the right one. Had the second been thrown in the same direction, it would have saved me a purchase and they would’ve been used in Regent’s Park this Sunday. As it was I gave the sweaty thing to Joss but made him promise not to use it/take it out of the house. We bumped into Jake and Matt in the shop and then walked back happy with our three points and the confidence boost ahead of the FA Cup Semi-Final on Saturday. Joss showed the glove to his mates in the close outside his house and his friend Louis exclaimed “Lucky bugger”.

Didn't turn up

Middlesbrough v Watford

Saturday 7^th April

This was a game I would have considered going to if Watford had still been in with a chance of survival but coupled with a trip to the semi-final next weekend, the long trip to the northeast didn’t appeal. Since Sky Sports News has gone from my cable service, I had to make do with the BBC Sport’s text update. However you followed the match, it didn’t make for Easter cheer. 1-0 down after five minutes, Damien Francis’ twenty-second minute equaliser was followed within two minutes by a second ‘boro goal. That’s how the scores stayed until half-time but John, my colleague at work, will delight in being able to return the taunts I dished out five months ago after his local team added another two and finished up giving us a 4-1 hiding. Betty made no excuses, calling us awful.

With the exception of the Hornets’ fate, the league has got more interesting. Charlton and West Ham have found form of late (the latter incredibly winning at Arsenal today) and Sheffield United have dropped into the bottom three. At the other end, ManU™ lost at Portsmouth this evening, which means there are only three points between them and Chelsea, with the teams yet to go head-to-head at Stamford Bridge. The UEFA Cup positions still seem to be up for grabs too. After 32 games and with just 6 to go, there seems to be only one certainty in the English Premiership: we are out of our league.

Almost there

Watford v Chelsea

Saturday 31^st March

Only the sports pages of The Guardian prevented me from heading over to Watford more than two hours before I needed to be there: I hadn’t been aware the kick-off was at 5.15. Still, I had to be there earlier than I would if Joss’ bike hadn’t been stolen a couple of weeks ago. Sarah and Ethan were around, but Kerry was in bed when I got there. Joss and I left just after half four and he chatted about his friends at school, his maths teacher, the films he watched in lieu of ‘drama’ and ‘discovery’ lessons and described a Spanish test he’d done well in that seemed to be made up exclusively of the only vocabulary and expressions he knew. It reminded me of when he said he’d had a test on capitals in September 2005 after we’d been learning some.

We were there early enough to enjoy a bit of pre-match atmosphere (a “bit” is all there is) and within three minutes of the game starting, Darius Henderson had left an elbow in the air that John Terry’s face moved to fill and we had a break that the Watford players used to continue their warm-up. Watford had early pressure that led to a couple of corners and Steve Kabba, working hard up front, had a fantastic overhead kick tipped over by Peter Cech. We certainly looked the more likely to score for the first half-hour, with Chelsea’s attacks relatively lacking in vim until Didier Drogba somehow picked up a pass behind our defenders just outside the six yard box and was still judged onside. His turn and stab at goal was blocked by Ben Foster with his left foot and the relief in the Rookery was tangible.

I’m not sure if it was just today but the Rous stand seems to have become increasingly vociferous and involved and I think that the variety of chants from the Rookery has increased over the season, but particularly since the turn of the year and the fun at Fulham. Curly was on good form next to us today, performing a Cossack-style dance he was desperate for Andriy Shevchenko to see but that had to suffice with laughs from the fans around him. We taunted Frank Lampard with his absence from England’s team for the midweek Andorra victory and chanted “Roman’s rent-boys” to the rest of the team and “Sacked in the summer” to the manager.

There were a couple more good saves from Foster before the break but standing in line for a pizza pod and a hot dog, we were inclined to feel that this was one of Watford’s best team performances of the season and to dream of three points (yet still be delighted with one). “Jose is a girl’s name” Mourinho made all of his substitutions within fifteen minutes of the restart but Watford still had the best chances of the game: Kabba rushed wide a shot from six yards and Damien Francis, who worked hard all game had a good shot stopped on the right before another Kabba drive was cleared off the line by Cech, who was matching Foster. We could and should have put one of those three in and won a famous victory. Instead, in the second minute of four added on, Shevchenko crossed for the substitute Salomon Kalou to rise and nod in.

The Chelsea fans who hadn’t made a noise most of the game were understandably overjoyed to have stolen it at the death to stay six points behind ManU™ and with West Ham and Charlton both winning again, the gap between us and everyone else just keeps widening. I resigned myself to relegation a few games ago, so that’s not the worry but it’s hard not to have taken anything from this and end Chelsea’s title ambitions at the same time. On the walk back Joss asked who I thought man of the match had been and I said Francis, but it had been a good team performance: at Stamford Bridge there’d been a gulf between the two sides that wasn’t evident today.

Having dropped off Joss, I had to rush off to get down to New Malden in Surrey for Kahori, Maya and Mina’s leaving party. We saw them on Wednesday but on Monday they head for a new life in Japan and this might be the last we see them for a few years. New beginnings: I think I am due one too.