So, here we are, four games in, three wins and one defeat, and the manager’s job on the line. Notably, the pressure comes from inside rather than outside; these are questions being asked by the players rather than the fans. There’s no sense of mutiny around Vicarage Road, nothing more than a familiar impatient tetchiness, common to all modern football grounds. But you look at that squad – a winning squad, for pity’s sake – and you can’t see any structure at all.
When I entered the ground, Macca was being interviewed by Luther. What a joy to listen to my two all-time favourite players chatting. When they finished, I made my way around to the Lower Rous to give Don a bag that he had left in the West Herts. As I reached the disabled area, Don was coming to greet me and pointing rather urgently behind me. I turned and there was John McClelland looking exactly as he did in the 80s. I immediately turned into a gibbering star struck fan. I managed to blurt out that I’d loved watching him play and went to shake his hand and found myself being warmly hugged. It is quite possible that my feet will never touch the ground again.