My sporting 2010 – It’s in your hands…

Apparently we’re through the worst of it. Whilst it still seems like the depth of winter to me, last Monday (February 1) is by all accounts the most depressing day of the year, with the highest number of sickies (Duvet days for the politically correct) being thrown on this date, year in year out. So, if we’ve all made it past then intact, we should be OK.

Despite refusing to succumb to seasonal affective disorder and the overpowering urge to stay in bed with season seven of 24, I do still need something to look forward to. I need things in the diary. I need to plan stuff.

It should be pretty apparent that I’m partial to watching sport. A lot of sport. A borderline unhealthy amount of sport. It therefore follows that much of my advance planning revolves around going to watch sporting events. Regular

I'm the Daddy

readers will also be aware that I am now a proud Father. Now, whilst life as a Dad has proved wonderful, exciting and rewarding, it also means that with reduced free time, I have to be increasingly selective with the sporting events I choose to attend.

I’ve been lucky enough to see a wide range of sporting events and with Fatherhood resulting in rapidly diminishing disposable income and time, I thought it best to channel my efforts into trying to go and witness sport that I have never seen live. This is where you come in. I’m asking for your help. I need advice and inspiration.

I have listed the sporting events that I have been to below, so you know what I’ve don and what I haven’t. What I need now are suggestions as to sports I have thus far missed, and where I should go to witness them at their finest. Whether it be hurling in the Highlands, Super Slalom in Kitzbuhel or turtle racing in downtown LA, I want to know what I should do next, where, and ideally, why.

There is always the possibility of building a family holiday round a sporting event, so location isn’t important. Seeing something that I have never seen before, is.

So, I’ll leave you with my list, a brief outline of my sporting CV, and trust that you fine people will help me fill in the gaps. Don’t let me down people. My 2010 sporting diary is in your hands…

Football. I’ve seen a lot of football. In a lot of places. I’m a Watford season ticket holder, so much of it has varied in quality, but have also been lucky enough to be at European Championships and World Cups. I’ve even seen live Australian “A” league. My football cup runneth over.

Rugby Union. My first rugby match was England V Australia at Twickenham in 1988. England won 28-19  and apart from rousing choruses of “Swing Low” the atmosphere was created by the (seemingly entirely drunk) crowd stamping their feet on the wooden floor. For an 11 year old boy this was intoxicating stuff indeed.

No subsequent visit to Twickenham has inspired the same thrill and excitement, and I’m now content with the occasional trip to Wasps or Saracens.

Cricket. As a youngster I played as much cricket as I possibly could. Then I discovered the healing properties of real ale and pork pies, and now I watch as much cricket as I possibly can. I’m a member at Middlesex and have heard the

My chum Boba Fett

sound of leather on willow in venues ranging from Bristol to Brisbane.

I still play a bit too, and my favourite claim to fame actually comes from playing cricket. I’m not one to name drop, but wouldn’t you if you had played cricket with the actor who played Boba Fett in Star Wars? I thought so.

Darts. Before anyone starts, it is a sport. Of course it is. It’s on telly and everything, you must have seen it. Phil the Power doesn’t strut his stuff live on a channel called Sky Hobbies does he? The clue is in the name – Sky Sports.

Anyway, I went to the spiritual home of darts, the Lakeside, to see the much maligned PDC darts championship some years ago now, and I have to say I loved every minute of it. I mean, what’s not to love? Any place where you see Andy Goram clutching a Bacardi Breezer to your left and Ray Stubbs interviewing the terrifying looking Colin Monk to your right is alright by me.

Tennis. I’ve only been once. To Wimbledon. It was back in the day when Number One court was bolted on to the side of Centre Court and at the back of the arena there was a place for standing. Well, that’s where I was on one of the hottest days I have ever experienced. I was a spotty schoolkid at the time too, so wasn’t exactly flush with cash. For those of you that haven’t been, Wimbledon isn’t the place to be without access to money and on a fiercely hot day I went hungry and thirsty, but did have the privilege of seeing Boris Becker and actor Jack Nicholson (only one of whom was playing tennis by the way…)

Speedway. I’m not quite sure how, but I’ve been to two speedway meets. Once to see Coventry and more recently to see the Poole Pirates. I actually quite enjoyed it. It’s noisy, fast, messy and generally pretty dangerous. I am a man. These things please me.

Horse Racing. Birthdays and stag-do’s. There is inevitably one such event each year that involves in a trip to the races. I have left Ascot, Goodwood, Newmarket, Kempton Park, Windsor, even the rather strange track in Budapest with a much lighter wallet but fantastic, if slightly hazy memories.

Oh, and if there is a more enjoyable way to get to a sporting event than the water taxi down the Thames to Windsor racecourse, I want to hear about it.

American Football. Anyone remember the London Monarchs? Well, I do. In their first couple of seasons season

The London Monarchs are no more

they played at Wembley Stadium, culminating in a “World Bowl” victory over the Barcelona Dragons in front of 80,000 odd fans. One of which was me.

Of course it was all downhill from there and the Monarchs have long since disbanded, (That’s Monarchs, not Monarchy – no treason here), but Wembley does still play host to Gridiron, and I have been lucky enough to be at two of the phenomenally successful trio of NFL regular season games, with the game last year hosting the newly crowned Superbowl champs the New Orleans Saints.

Ice Hockey. I was in New York City. As a sports fan, I was therefore required to go to Madison Square Garden. It didn’t matter what I saw there, I just had to be there for something. As it turned out, that something was an NHL fixture between the New York Rangers and the Pittsburgh Penguins. The Rangers were having a dreadful season and what really sticks in the memory is the home fans letting their team have it with both barrels. We are used to the occasional bit of booing over here, but in the Garden, where you’d expect the New York home crowd to be passionately behind their team, there was no support, just annoyance, and well, pretty poorly disguised disgust.

I was impressed that they clearly weren’t prepared to accept poor performances from their home town team, but the grief they dished out to their own team was a bit of a shock. I can’t remember the final score, but true to form the Rangers lost. And yes, before you ask, there were plenty of on ice fights.

Basketball. During that same visit to the States, I crossed the Hudson River to see a sporting franchise that were performing slightly better than the hapless New York Rangers. The NBA’s New Jersey Nets.

The Jason Kidd inspired Nets were due to play the Washington Wizards, and this was exciting on two counts. Firstly, a win for the Nets would secure the Divisional title and a place in the play-offs and secondly, the Washington Wizards boasted a certain Michael Jordan amongst their ranks.

Jordan - Crocked

As with all best laid plans, there was a hitch and Jordan sustained a knew injury in the week leading up to the game. Frail old sod. The Nets however stuck to my personal script and triumphed by 101 points to 88 and qualified for the play-offs. For the record, They lost four games to none against the LA Lakers in the Finals.

Golf. When the American ExpressWorld Golf Championships, featuring the worlds top 50 players is hosted approximately 20 minutes from your front door (It was hosted by The Grove in Hertfordshire in 2006), it’s a tough opportunity to pass up. So I didn’t. I was lucky enough to be one of about 20 people to walk round with Tiger on his practice round, and was also able to be there on the final day to see him win the trophy after a masterful four rounds.

Apart from being fortunate enough to witness some of the greatest golfers the world has ever produced, I was also privy to the slightly rarer sight of Vijay Singh attempting to kill a man with the power of his unblinking eyes, after an unsuspecting spectator stepped on and snapped a twig during the Fijians backswing. Vijay was not impressed.

Baseball. Of all the American sports I have seen live, baseball was the one I was most uncertain of enjoying. As it turns out, it was the one I enjoyed the most. I saw the New York Mets at Shea Stadium on a bright April day, and enjoyed it from start to finish. The crowd is usually big, and (during the regular season at least) pretty good natured and relaxed. You can drink beer in your seat and various food vendors meander their way bewteen the seats selling all manner of appallingly unhealthy food. Perfect.

Shea Stadium

Baseball is of course a game  full of traditions, and the seventh inning stretch is up there with he most random and enjoyable. The Americans, love them or loathe them, also know how to sing their National Anthem. The game lasts a good three hours or so, so there is a real chance to relax and soak up the gameas it unfolds. When I’m in the States next, tickets for a Major League game will be high on my shopping list.

So, there you have it. A quick run down of the sport I have encountered over the past fifteen years or so. What I want to know now is, what next? Over to you…

Who cares wins…

At the risk of opening by stating the obvious, it isn’t always easy supporting Watford. It isn’t even always fun. Having said that, I count myself lucky to be a Hornet.

We’ve had a brief stint in the limelight, we’ve been in Europe and played at Wembley. Not many fans of clubs our size can say that. What pleases me most of all  is that when all is said and done, we are far, far removed from the Sky Sports generation and all the ghastly hype that goes with it.

Alright, so we’ve had a crack at the big time a couple of times and continue to sail pretty close to the financial wind as a result. However, we have a three sided ground and when asked for their favourite player, most Watford fans would answer Lloyd Doyley. Watching Champions League football from a fifty quid seat we are not.

Occasionally I see Watford fans complaining that we don’t get enough coverage across the media. This has been an oft repeated complaint, and during our pomp in the 80’s, it was made with some justification. Now though, why should we have any coverage apart from that afforded by the Watford Observer and seeing goals on the TV? We are an average Championship club, and quite frankly that’ll do for me.

At our level, there is still just the faintest hint of what football should be like. There are still brick outhouse defenders, awful refereeing decisions and quaint grounds to visit. You can get a ticket. If you were so minded, you could probably get a couple of your heroes to sign your match programme. Who knows, you might beat a bigger opponent in a Cup competition (although judging by the celebrations when Priskin netted against Chelsea last year, simply scoring could be enough…) It’s all pretty straightforward really.

Tuesday night was a prime example. Anyone other than Sheffield United or Watford fans would probably have to have been paid to watch the game. Had they seen the first 20 minutes, they would probably have to be paid again to stop them from leaving. It wasn’t pretty, and Watford’s three goals came as a result of calamitous defending as oppose to breathtaking attacking. It wasn’t a great game or a great spectacle, but then again it didn’t need to be. We don’t, or at least shouldn’t suffer from the illusions of grandeur that seem to inflict much of the footballing world. We don’t need to qualify for the Europa Cup and to then pretend that playing in Europe justifies the ludicrous sums of money paid out in fees and wages. We don’t need to play slick one touch football to keep those football tourists paying £1,000 for a season ticket happy. We don’t have to put up with endless speculation about our mollycoddled, overpaid, undereducated players and their performances on and off the pitch. If our team turns up and wins, that’ll do for us. In fact scrub that. If our team turns up, plays well and loses that’ll usually do too.

I rarely watch Match of the Day any more. I find the whole thing so tiring. The endless analysis. The banal comments from players, managers and pundits. The inevitable highlighting of an awful challenge, constant diving and woeful refereeing decisions. I just don’t need it in my life, no matter what Sky Sports and Andy Gray tells me. I still love football, and I thoroughly enjoyed Manchester Uniteds’ demolition of Arsenal on Sunday. My view isn’t so jaundiced that I can’t recognise and enjoy brilliant football. I just don’t need to be endlessly told it’s brilliant over a Kasabian soundtrack.

Watford V Sheffield United didn’t matter to the wider footballing world. Watford don’t really matter to the wider footballing world and the coverage we get reflects that. But that suits me just fine. Why? Because Watford matter to me.

Football 0 Tennis 1

I reckon I’m about as grown up as I’m going to get. I own my home and I seem to be able to keep my daughter fed and watered. I read a grown up newspaper, I don’t understand what N’Dubz say in their songs  and I struggle with iTunes. I do my own washing. I even tie my own shoes. There is however one thing guaranteed to reduce me to throwing a childish wobbly. I still can’t stand it when Watford lose

Granted, I have mellowed slightly and am now less likely to hurl whatever is in my hand when the bad news breaks against the wall, but let us be clear – following a Hornets defeat, I still get the raging hump. The thing is, there is a knock on effect. After a Watford defeat I can’t tolerate any football. I forego The Football league Show (not a massive sacrifice I grant you) and can’t even bring myself to watch Match of the Day. Sky Sports News is out of bounds, and so are the sports sections of the bulging Sunday papers. Irrational I know, but there you have it.

Anyway, as the majority of you will know, having seemingly dodged a bullet off the pitch, Watford are now enduring a painful time on it – the most recent illustration being the last minute transformation of three points into none at Bloomfield Road. So, with Watford doing their level best to keep me off football, I have had to seek solace elsewhere

Melbourne to be exact.

Home to TV’s” Neighbours”, the world’s first walk through lion enclosure and the birthplace of Ozzie staple vegemite, for two weeks each January Melbourne also plays host to the Australian Open tennis, one of the four “Grand Slams” on the ATP tour. I, like most Brits enjoy Wimbledon every summer, watching on with a familiar resigned sense of amusement as the British entrants invariably fail to make it past the first round. I’ll keep an eye on the grand slams and various other tournaments that Sky Sports deem worthy of screening, but rarely do I afford tennis anything but a fleeting glance. Until now.

Whilst I try to divert my attention from where on this earth Watford are going to get a decent centre back from, I can’t think about football. It’s too painful. I do however need my sporting fix, and tennis has rather unexpectedly proved to fit that bill. The cynics amongst you will already be pointing to the relative success of Andy Murray as the reason for my conversion to tennis fan. Well, not so. As the tournament enters its second week, there have been some great matches, but it is the coverage of these matches that has really captivated me.

I’m lucky enough to be able to receive DAB digital radio in my car and last week, unexcited by any of my usual morning listening (Apologies to Messrs Moyles, Campbell and Ms Fogherty) I flicked over onto Radio 5 Live Sports Xtra. I knew the tennis would be on and was intrigued as to how such a fast moving sport would come across on the radio.

In truth I expected to be moving on through the dial pretty quickly. As it happened, I was late for work as I didn’t want to turn it off…

The commentary team of Jonathan Overend, Vassos Alexander and Alastair Eykyn, backed up my summariser Pat Cash were brilliant. It was pre-match and they were discussing a huge range of interesting subjects – the types of racquet used, training techniques, bits and bobs each of them had picked up from around the tournament. Fascinating stuff, for both the uneducated casual tennis fan and (I assume) those with a more year round commitment to tennis

The conversation was jovial and relaxed, a large dollop humour mixed  with truly insightful comment. I couldn’t help but think of the hours and hours of banal comment I have endured from some so called expert football summarisers, blithely stating the obvious, spewing forth what sadly can only be described as cliché ridden rot.

Back in Melbourne (not me, I was almost in Milton Keynes by now) the commentators were preparing to begin their commentary on Andy Murray’s third round match with Frenchman Florent Serra. Whilst I had enjoyed the build up, I was dubious as to how the team were going to verbally portray such a fast moving game in such a short amount of time.

I needn’t have worried. Jonathan Overend launched into commentary and instantly hit his stride, describing each movement, shot and close call with expert precision. As with a good book, the commentary was able to transport me into the thick of the action, my minds eye seeing each point as clear as if I was watching at home on TV.

As it was, Murray won the game at a canter, having to perform at no more than 60% of his undoubted ability to progress in three sets. The commentary team however were most definitely at 100% and as I clambered out of my car into the cold Milton Keynes morning, my mind was very much still in Melbourne, full of the vivid images so expertly described by Overend et al

As a British sports fan, I have since enjoyed Murray’s subsequent matches on Sports Xtra, but the biggest compliment I can pay to the BBC team in Australia is that I have also tuned in listened to matches featuring players that I had previously had no any interest in whatsoever.

The tennis finishes this weekend, and Watford have a home tie with Swansea. If they win that, my brief dalliance with tennis will be over and I’ll find myself once more submerged in the blanket coverage that the beautiful game enjoys. Nevertheless, if you’re sat next to me at Vicarage Road don’t be surprised to catch me checking for the ATP Tour news.

It’s rare for me to want to spend longer in the car in the morning, but over the past fortnight, with Sports Xtra and my new friends on the wireless there really was nowhere I would rather be. Apart from Melbourne perhaps…

Watford. It could be you…

Well if there is one thing you can say with certainty about Watford, it’s that there is never a dull moment (Saturday’s drab encounter with Derby the exception that proves the rule).

If it’s not relegation it’s promotion. If it’s not players being threatened with deportation, its players we can’t get rid of. Condemned main stand? Yep, got one of those. Acrimonious dealings with ex-Managers? Check. Boardroom battles and impending financial disaster. Oh yes indeed.

As the fallout from Tuesday’s AGM continues, things are looking increasingly bleak for the future of Watford Football Club. At the time of writing, the Russo’s are expecting the full repayment of their £4.8million loans by 5:30pm. Call me a cynic, but something tells me they aren’t going to accept Nathan Ellington and a job lot of WFC advent calendars in lieu of payment.

This correspondent doesn’t pretend to know the ins and outs of what is going on in the corridors of what little power is left at Vicarage Road, but it seems to me the Russo’s are our only hope. They have made an offer to buy the club outright, which includes the servicing of the much publicised £5.5million funding gap. However, the newly aligned axis of Ashcroft and Simpson aren’t playing ball for whatever reason, and are reluctant to sell. Presumably they have their eyes on Watford’s only tangible asset, Vicarage Road Stadium.

As it stands the Russo’s offer remains on the table, and my understanding is that if it isn’t accepted by close of business today, administration at the very least is inevitable. The implications of this are well documented and utterly terrifying for a club the size of ours. Clubs have been sailing close to the wind for some time and analysts have long predicted that a major club will fall. We can only hope and pray it isn’t ours.

There is no reason it shouldn’t be Watford – we’re no different to any of the other clubs out there, it’s just this time it’s us in the firing line and it really doesn’t feel like much fun.

I’m sure that many will argue it will take the collapse of a high profile club for the game and the various governing bodies to take the situation seriously and look at ways in which the future of football can be safeguarded. How that can be achieved is anyone’s guess, but what is clear, is that football in its current guise isn’t sustainable. The Top 4 clubs have driven up the cost of players and their wages to such a level that there is no hope of any club outside the elite competing with them. Try to compete and the financial strain will almost certainly eventually cripple your club. Don’t attempt to compete, and well, what’s the point? Your club will eventually lose its fans to the armchair and Sky Sports and ESPN.

I haven’t got the answer to either Watford’s woes or those of the game at large. Someone has to start thinking about it though, as soon it won’t be just clubs under serious threat of extinction, but the game itself.

After the Lloyd Mayor’s Show…

It’s so often the case. After memorable highs, come instantly forgettable lows.

Producing a performance to follow the extraordinary scenes we witnessed at Vicarage Road on Monday night was always going to be difficult, but I suppose it is a measure of how far this squad of borrowed players, youngsters and journeymen have come under Malky Mackay that Saturday’s home defeat to Derby was as disappointing as it was unexpected.

It was a cold day, and the sticky looking pitch was never going to be conducive to free flowing football. Add into the mix Derby’s hard working, tough tackling game plan and an early Danny Graham miss from distance, and it quickly became apparent that it was going to be one of those days.

Credit to Derby. From the first whistle to the last they didn’t let Watford have any time on the ball, and the previously effective Cleverley and Cowie were shut down time and time again. Derby battled, tackled, huffed and puffed, and whilst they didn’t look like scoring, neither did we.

As the game wore on it occurred to me that Derby were doing to us what we have done to so many other teams in recent years, and why so many opposition fans had derided us and our tactics. Effective, most certainly. Enjoyable to watch? Even an episode of X-Factor would have provided a tempting alternative.

Watford didn’t play well, but we shouldn’t be too downhearted. This was a well organised Derby team, desperate for their first away win. As much as it pains me to say it, Robbie Savage was a picture of experience and know how – marshalling the game from seemingly the same spot on the pitch for the entire 90 minutes. Additional footballing know how and niggle came from Lee Hendrie and the much travelled Paul Dickov. Compare the careers of these guys to those of Lee Hodson, Liam Henderson and Ross Jenkins, and you get an idea of what we are up against in this division.

More often than not, our youngsters have proved up to the task this season, and it is for that reason that I doubt many Hornets fans will have trouble moving on quickly after Saturday’s 0-1 defeat. This Watford team has already given us much to cheer this season, and despite the increasing spectre of financial meltdown off the pitch, on the pitch has in the main (unexpectedly) been a joy to behold.

Speaking of which, I can’t close without mentioning last Monday night. 7 December 2009, or “Lloyd-D Day” as it shall now be known.

Since the news emerged that Adrian Mariappa and Lloyd Doyley had been locked in fierce competition to be the first to break their goalscoring duck, the attention of many Watford fans turned from the duos defensive performances to their chances of scoring at the other end. Aidy Mariappa comfortably beat Lloyd in their personal duel, but since then Watford fans have been collectively willing Doyley on, and this season the performances of the team had allowed him to creep ever closer to his first ever goal.

Well, against QPR, it finally arrived. Described by the Sky commentary as looking as if he had been “fired from a cannon” Lloyd Doyley met Don Cowie’s cross with a thundering header and for a couple of seconds everything stopped. The massed ranks of Hornets fans exchanged looks and cautious smiles, seeking confirmation that what they had just seen was real and not some bizarre optical illusion.

Realisation dawned and then – bedlam.

A celebration of joy, of togetherness. A celebration that will live long in the memory of all that were there, and one that reinforces the good feeling that is back at Vicarage Road. A feeling that we are all in this together and are once again pulling in the same direction. There was genuine affection towards “Lloydhino” from fans and players alike, and the noisy, joyous, quite frankly bonkers celebrations felt like a truly shared moment.

Such moments are infrequent in modern day football, and this was an occasion to savour. I am relieved, proud and delighted to be able to leave you with the refrain…”I was there when Doyley scored!”

John Eustace

It’s not often that an opposition player scoring gives me cause to giggle. I think I had a bit of a chuckle when Heidar scored against England once, and some of the own goals that Keith Dublin scored were incredibly comical. More recently though, Derby’s consolation goal in the last game of last season put a smile on my face. Not because of the quality of the move or the nature of the finish, no, it was the celebration that made me smile.

Many of you will remember that it was our very own John Eustace who scored Derby’s goal that day. It was a fairly meaningless goal, Watford had as good as won the game and both teams were safely ensconced in the middle of the Championship table. John Eustace was pleased to have scored though, and having netted at the Vicarage Road End he ran full pelt towards the Watford faithful in the Rookery, jumped up in the air, planted his feet and raised both arms in celebration. All with a huge, goofy, slightly maniacal grin on his face.

In these days of mind games and arguments, money and moaning, diving and dishonesty, I was delighted to see a bloke playing football, and managing having a bit of fun at the same time. Granted, it was only a small thing, but I noticed it, and I enjoyed it.

What has given me greater pleasure is that John Eustace has since returned to Watford, and has played a significant part in our season to date. He’s been effective, combative, and a consistently impressive performer in our pleasantly surprising season to date. What’s more though, he’s done it in his slightly barmy, unhinged, enjoyable way. Eustace charges round the pitch like a youngster playing his first game on a full pitch, and I’ll grant you some of his challenges can be a bit, ahem, exuberant. But there is never any malice intended when he and a bemused and shaken opponent invariably end up in a crumpled heap on the floor, and I’ll tell you why. Because John Eustace is having fun. He likes playing football. He is enjoying himself, and it shows.

Here is a man who gets very little credit from the fans, has been on the transfer list at his parent club and shunted out on loan, yet still obviously loves his job. The majority of us fans would give pretty much anything to be a professional footballer, and If I  ever did get that opportunity, I like to think I’d embrace each game, each opportunity like John Eustace does.

Sadly, there are fewer and fewer players with which fans can feel any sort of connection, but I can relate to John Eustace. He covers ground for the team, he tackles hard, he passes the ball whilst looking the other way, he shoots, he tries stuff. Most importantly of all though,  he smiles.

Keep smiling John, and we’ll keep smiling with you.

We won some, we lost some…

Blimey. So, as the season continues to rumble along, I’m please to say that it is doing so in quite an enjoyable fashion. Since I last populated these pages, I have to concede that Watford have continued to, well, concede, but despite maulings at the hands of Cardiff and West Bromwich Albion, we’re more than holding our own.

An away win against Middlesbrough, a last gasp point at Ipswich, the dismantling of Sheffield Wednesday and the latest goal-scoring return of Heidar against Preston are four excellent examples of why supporting Watford this season is proving to be jolly good fun.

The away win at the Riverside was as unexpected as it was welcome. I can’t have been the only one who kept an eye on proceedings in the North East with slight trepidation, following as it did the home horror show against Cardiff, but Malky’s young charges did us proud, and helped in no small part by heroics from Scott Loach and a determined performance from ex ‘Boro employee Danny Graham, we returned home with our first ever win at the Riverside.

Another tricky away trip followed on the Tuesday, when we faced Roy Keane’s increasingly desperate Ipswich Town. It looked as if we were going to provide Keane with his first win as boss until deep into stoppage time when, of all people, Nathan Ellington smashed home an equaliser. I don’t know about you, but felt this was a big moment for us. We had won unexpectedly at Middlesbrough and had now rescued a game that looked beyond us away from home. It’s moments like these when you realise you have a team that is battling. Working. Trying. As a football fan, I don’t think I can ask for more than that.

There is always a slight worry when you nick late goals that you may have somehow used up your quota of luck. Against Sheffield Wednesday on a memorable Friday (thanks Sky!) night, we needn’t have worried. Thanks to inspired performances by Henri Lansbury and Tom Cleverley, Watford played some of the best football seen at Vicarage Road for some time, and won the game at a canter, 4-1. For heavens sake, Lloyd Doyley almost scored.

Whilst Lansbury and Cleverley understandably grabbed the headlines, our own players also shone, with Mariappa getting on the scoresheet and recent recruits Don Cowie and Danny Graham working their socks off for the cause. This was a good, and highly entertaining all round performance, with the only blemish the dreadful defending for the Owls consolation just before half time.

Watford played some blinding football, zipping the ball around crisply and with purpose, and four goals is the least they deserved. Those of us in the ground and watching live on Sky Sports were richly entertained and it was a fantastic feeling to hear the plaudits that Watford, so often derided as long ball merchants, rightly received. A great performance, one to really savour.

After the Lord Mayors show. I think that’s the best way of describing what happened just a week later at the Hawthorns. Whilst I hope people weren’t letting themselves get too carried away after our fantastic Friday against Wednesday, this result soon put our current place in the grand scheme of things firmly into perspective. I wasn’t at the game, so can’t comment with any great authority, but by all accounts it wasn’t quite as bad as the scoreline suggests, but in my experience very few teams deserve much out of a game that they lose 0-5. We created chances which is encouraging to hear, and perhaps if Danny Graham had converted his chance at 0-2 the day would have panned out differently. He didn’t, and it didn’t.

Whilst we’re on the subject of Danny Graham, I voiced my concern after he missed that wealth of chances against Leicester. Strikers are a funny breed, and they more than any other type of player rely on confidence. His extraordinary barren spell at Carlisle last year came after he had started the season well, and it was with this in mind that I was slightly concerned to see him waste 3 or 4 gilt edged chances. He hasn’t of course scored since.

Bizarrely though, I’m less worried now than I was after that Leicester game. His work rate is phenomenal, and he is clearly enjoying his football. His closing down of goalkeepers and chasing of seemingly lost causes is a joy to behold and he has played a huge part in all that has been impressive about Watford this season. The goals will come again, I’m convinced of that.

So. After a heavy defeat it was going to be interesting to see how we bounced back at home to what I assumed would be a decent PNE side. Our team is full of youngsters and inexperience – a good reaction was important for our season, but did we have any right to expect it? Well, after the first 5 minutes or so, it didn’t look like we were going to get it. Both Watford and Preston seemed incapable of completing a pass, with the ball disappearing out of play and players falling flat on their backsides at an alarming rate. Not a good start to the match, and indeed for a while there I was transported back to the meaningless drudgery of our games in the mid 90’s…However Heidar was back in the starting XI and as we all know by now, things are never dull for long when he is involved. 12 minutes in and the puffin eater directed a trademark header into the back of the net, and hey presto, we were up and running.

If Heidar’s goal was a thing of welcome familiarity, the 2^nd was a thing of absolute beauty. Henri Lansbury and Tom Cleverley combined to devastating effect, Lansbury easing away from several hapless PNE defenders before sliding a ball through to his fellow loanee who slid the ball home with precision and breathtaking ease. It’s stating the obvious to say that these boys are a cut above the rest of the squad, but they are clearly enjoying being part of this team, and our permanent players are clearly benefiting from their presence. Chants of “Sign him up” as Cleverley left the field are clearly wildly and unreasonably optimistic, but we should definitely make the most of him and Lansbury whilst we have them. We’ll be seeing more of them, no doubt, but it is likely to be in the Champions League, not the Championship.

The game ended 2-0 and we had our bounceback. We had our proof that this team of ours isn’t going to collapse and give in at the slightest hiccup, even if that hiccup did come in the form of a 5-0 thumping. They picked themselves up, dusted themselves down and made sure that this time it was they that would dish out the beating.

Tim Lovejoy famously coined the phrase bouncebackability. As Watford fans we’ve had to have it in abundance. It’s nice to see the team now have it too.

Watford 0 Cardiff City 4 – 3/10/2009

“Uncle Mike, why don’t they just, ummm,  shoot?”

I took my 8 year old nephew to Watford on Saturday, and whilst I could answer most of his questions adequately enough, I must admit his query about shooting struck me as being quite pertinent.

Whilst it is fairly obvious that our record of 10 goals conceded in our last 3 home games is causing us increasing difficulties, our reluctance to shoot has been equally evident against Leicester, Coventry and most recently in this horror show against Cardiff.

The sole encouraging factor is that wer are creating space and opportunities in which we would expect our strikers to shoot. I guess that’s half the battle. Oh alright then, a quarter of the battle, but we definitely have been playing some decent football in the final third, play that deserves more output. More shots. And perhaps even, whisper it, more goals…

For those still in any doubt, we were well beaten by a strong and competent Cardiff  side, and not even the most hardened, partisan wearer of yellow tinted specs could argue otherwise.

Anyway, you’ve probably gathered that all this talk about attempts on goal  is merely a futile effort to avoid talking about what is going on at the other end of the pitch. We’re now shipping goals at an alarming and potentially fatal rate. Admittedly we have had a tough week, with bizarre injuries and illness taking their terrible toll on our already thin squad, but the fact that the aggregate score over the last 3 home games is now 5-10 in favour of the visitors doesn’t bode particularly well.

I have used these pages to share my enthusiasm and excitment about the young players coming through and playing their part this year, and I maintain that the future looks bright. However, the past couple of weeks have left us in no doubt that we will need to work hard and stick together to ensure we make it to that future with our Championship status intact.

I’m under no illusion as to our sole objective this year, and you shouldn’t be either. We need to stay up. Nothing more, most certainly nothing less. Failure to achieve this single goal would be catastrophic to what is clearly a rebuilding process both on and off the pitch.

We have a team containing some decent players, some good loanees and more than a sprinkling of academy/youth team graduates. We have a management team in place who care about the club, and at Board level we seem to be as stable now as we have been for quite some time. This is a football club, a football team, that we should be able to get behind. A team that we can love, support and identify with. It’s going to be a tough season – they always are, but supporting a club like Watford is a two way process. You get out what you put in. If you turn up at The Vic expecting free flowing football, win after win, and a constant influx of high profile players – you’re going to be disappointed. If you understand where we as a club are, and what our objectives should be, you’ll (more ofthen than not) enjoy it.

Obviously there will be poor days in the office, and Saturday was undoubtedly one such example. I think my My nephew summed it up pretty well with another little gem. “Uncle Mike, I do love Watford, but they haven’t been very good today have they? When can I come again?”

And Graham must score…

Sometimes you just know.

It should have become apparent that we’d be in for a tough night when young William Hoskins defied physics, gravity and every other logic defining law to spoon the ball miles over the Coventry City bar from barely a yard.

A slightly more impressive effort from the ex Rotherham man - a smart backheel from a corner – elicited more groans from the Rookery end (which reminds me, follow www.twitter.com/rookeryend for interesting WFC “tweets“) and when Danny Graham missed wonderful chances either side of half time, you just knew there wasn’t going to be a happy ending.

And of course there wasn’t. We ended up beaten 2-3 by a very average* C0ventry, despite creating enough clear cut chances to win 3 games.  Initially, the overriding emotion was  frustration. Having managed to battle back from a goal down (again), it was disappointing that we ended up with nothing, and as I blathered on at my long suffering brother, all I could see was three points dropped and a season rapidly turning into what we all feared it might.

By the time I’d got to the car however, I was in more reflective mood.

The Watford FC class of 2009/10 isn’t exactly bursting at the seams in terms of numbers or experience, and when the squad was depleted further by suspension, illness and random injury (has anyone other than our American hero ever cut their eye with a contact lens?!) we looked mighty thin on the ground.

The result was that we saw the future. Admittedly Mackay’s hand was forced, but Hodson, Bennett, Henderson and Oshodi all featured on Tuesday night, and have to my knowledge all come through the Watford youth ranks. So have more established, experienced names – Doyley, Mariappa, Richard Lee. We should be proud and excited by that.

Our club has gone through an exciting yet turbulent decade, with two near-fatal dalliances with wreckless spending.  Whilst we struggle to right the good ship Watford, the emergence of these youngsters prove that somewhere along the line, our club is operating as it should be. Perhaps better than it should be – how many other clubs can boast such a successful conversion rate of their academy players to the 1st team?

Alright, so Liam henderson should have scored at the end, and young Eddie Ashodi looked a bit tentative. Who cares. With a name like that he can do no wrong. These are our kids, our future. And they are a welcome sign that there will continue to be an our Watford.

*Nothing average about Clinton Morrison though. He has to be the most sulky footballer I have ever seen. If he chanelled half as much energy into his game as he does at hurling abuse at his team-mates, his name might appear on the scoresheet a bit more. What a clown. Entertaining to watch though.

Dunne Deal

So, the transfer window has closed. Tommy Smith has gone to Portsmouth for a well deserved crack at the top flight, Jobi McAnuff has followed Rodgers to Reading, whilst John-Joe O’Toole (rejoining a certain A.Boothroyd Esq at Colchester) and Mike Williamson have also left stage right.

The Tommy Smith episode, whilst highly publicised was the definitive illustration of how a modern footballer can conduct themself during negotiations. Mike Williamson threw a bit of a hissy fit and eventually got his South coast move too, but I can’t help feeling that we did some good business there. Financially at least.

O’Toole and McAnuff I am sure we can do without, but we do now have a thin looking squad, no surprise to most, and survival is clearly the primary goal this term. However, with with the finances the sales have generated we can (hopefully) look forward to the future on something approaching a sound financial footing.

So, all in all a relatively quiet end to the transfer window for Watford, and it was the goings on a couple of hundred miles away from Vicarage Road that awoke me from my deadline day slumber.

At Eastlands, the home of Manchester City, Richard Dunne was negotiating his move to Aston Villa. The media reported this as a done deal at several times throughout the day, but it soon became clear there was a delay. Nothing out of the ordinary I thought, he is probably doing his exit interview and working out how many days leave he is owed. Not so…

Testimonial is a word not often used in football these days. In fact, I’d be interested to hear who the last top flight professional footballer to have one was. Anyway, for those of you unaware, a testimonial is an event organised to raise money for a player who has been at the same club for 10 years. It’s only fair – you are a loyal servant for a decade, you deserve a bit of a thank you. Even if you do earn twice the average annual salary of the working population every week.

Anyway, non Manchester City fans can be forgiven for not knowing that Richard Dunne has been playing for Manchester City for nine years. That’s right, next year would have been his tenth, qualifying him for a  testimonial. Now it isn’t hard to see why a money spinning testimonial is attractive, Premiership players can expect to earn a reported million quid. Not a bad golden handshake. It sure beats a carriage clock.

So, you can see poor Richard’s dilemma. On one hand, one more year with City and he gets his testimonial and pocketful of lovely loot to say thanks for your loyalty. On the other hand he wants to join Aston Villa on a lucrative contract and trouser a pocketful of lovely loot to say thanks for joining us.

You can picture the scene. Richard Dunne sat alone in his front room, barely noticing Sky Sports News blaring out of his 100″ plasma as he mulls it over in his tortured mind – “Testimonial or new deal, testimonial or new deal…” His face is contorted in confusion until BINGO! – he has his lightbulb moment. “I know what I’ll do…” Richard smiles to himself. “I’ll demand the money from the testimonial that I would have next year, and then leave for Villa! Everyone’s a winner”

And that ladies and gentlemen was the delay. Richard Dunne was holding out for a payment of money he would have earned from his testimonial had he stayed at City for another year. Money he would have earned for his loyalty, for committing ten years to the club. Not nine. Ten. Now I’m all for making sure you get paid what you are due, but come on…

I have no idea whether or not City paid up, but the deal has now through, so I suspect a deal was done and hard up Dicky Dunne got his golden handshake whilst Villa got their man. Now if you’ll excuse me I’m off to hand in my resignation and ask for next years’ salary in advance.