BSAD: Don’t be fooled by the times of the goals. Really, this wasn’t a game of two halves at all – Wolves dominated for long periods before the interval and the half-time score flattered our overall performance, if not our decisive finishing. Even so, the comeback was thoroughly disappointing. Having taken the lead, we showed a disturbing lack of resilience in letting it slip.
BSAD: Maybe expectations are too high, certainly nicking a point at Wolves would have been a great result a couple of years ago. But I have been thinking that too much lately and it is a touch depressing that our fleeting moments of fluency are enough to get us by, along with an uncharacteristic amount of luck, in what is a characteristically poor First Division.
BSAD report: Besides, we’re top of the league. Properly top of the league, not just keeping it warm for Fulham. All the other stuff still matters, of course…but the crap that life throws at you seems to stick less easily when you’ve got a league table to gaze lovingly at.
BSAD report: Today we sing, coz we love our team. They kept out a hard-working bunch of bastards who’d got an inexplicable grudge against us and interrupted our every attempt at complicated passing, which made us look like we either couldn’t get in the game or weren’t trying hard enough to do so.
BSAD report: All teams, including us, will go on a bad run at some stage during the season (as Fulham are demonstrating to a minor extent at the moment). We just have to hope ours won’t last too long, and that it doesn’t happen for a few games yet.
BSAD: Perhaps as close as a Watford side has ever got to the “total football” ideal. Two fine goals from a midfielder, wide players switching flanks at will and frequently coming back to help out in defence, full backs hurtling into the penalty area to get onto the end of flowing attacking moves, central defenders striding over the halfway line. Had we tried to play like this a few years ago, we would’ve seen the kind of chaos that would ensue if everyone ignored the highway code at a busy roundabout…but now it makes sense, it works so well, and there’s great joy in the knowledge that we can still improve.
I hate Gillingham. In an admiring sort of way. They’re a pain in the arse, obviously. We haven’t beaten them since the invention of the combustion engine and, on last night’s evidence, we’ll have seen a few more inventions come and go before we beat them again. They know how to make themselves unpopular, that’s for sure. Perhaps they’ve burst our bubble at an appropriate moment, though.
On the subject of our forwards, Gifton on an off-night plays depressingly more like a Harlem Globetrotter than Michael Jordan; and with a wall of blue meanies facing them, even Tommy Smith back in a central role couldn’t jinx a way through.
BSAD report: Saturday was great in every respect. Hell, even the second half tannoy announcement that trains were going no further south than Harrow proved to be insignificant – by the time I’d fortified myself for a nightmare journey with a suitable amount of Guinness, everything was running smoothly. And I have to mention the Irish Hornets, Pat and Joe, whose post-match contribution to the laughter and merriment and plain old happiness was second only to that of the team. It was a “top of the world, top of the league” sort of day. The kind that leaves you a million miles away from the drudgery and irritation of the working week, that feels like a very welcome holiday.