Tag: Feb6

6th February 2006- Championship, Sheffield United 1 Watford 4

We were seated, for the first time in a number of seasons, in the lower tier behind the goal and whilst the view was still reasonable the lack of ceiling to trap and project the noise did little for the atmosphere in the away end. Nor did its sparse population, particularly out on the flanks where we were situated… the prospect of a longish midweek trip for a game on Sky in February had been enough to leave plenty of spaces in seats around us, giving the stand the air of our away ends during Kenny Jackett’s season in the Third Division nearly a decade ago. On the pitch, however, things have moved on quite a lot since then…

If the first half was a welcome surprise, the second half is nothing short of exceptional, perhaps the finest forty-five of the season. Within moments of the restart an excellent looping ball out of midfield gives Marlon something to chase and he charges past the hapless defender, brings the ball inside and crashes it into the net. 2-0! I am kneeling in front of the TV arms aloft, vaguely aware that Mate and Wife are probably making faces behind my back, but who cares. 2-0!

100 Greatest Watford Wins- No.66: The Blades were second in the table, ten points behind Reading but 11 ahead of Leeds. Watford were third, lurking but unfancied. Neil Warnock’s side were in for a hammering. Chris Eagles scored early on. After 25 minutes United had David Unsworth sent off for pushing Eagles in the face. Even against 10 men, Watford came under heavy pressure but they defended well and administered stinging blows on the counter attack.

6th February 2002- New Division One, Watford 1 Burnley 2

I don’t ever recall hearing the Flintstones Theme Watford chant being sung by the Rookery (see Hornets in Harmony pages 31-33)

guardian Watford’s manager Gianluca Vialli called on his team to win this game, and a second home fixture against Grimsby on Sunday, to haul themselves back into the promotion frame. But the plea fell on deaf ears here last night, and Marcus Gayle’s listening equipment must be of the cloth variety.

BSAD imageTen o’clock pm. Final whistle. Swift exit for the train station, through the shouting, grumbling, miserable hordes. Except those who’ve stayed behind to abuse the team, that is. Stride quickly through the streets, checking my watch and wondering if, deep down, I ought to be feeling rather more angry and disillusioned. I’m unable to figure that out. Or maybe I don’t want to try too hard.

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