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We waved to the team coach, standing on the grass verge of the M1 as they sped past our stricken Fiesta, more to keep warm than anything. To be honest, though, I couldn’t feel more affection for the club right now if they’d stopped, furnished us with as many rub-downs and isotonic sports drinks as we could handle, and towed us home. This Watford team works hard, has the right attitude, carries no one, features no mercenaries or over paid former superstars, and even has cup runs. Call me unambitious, but that’s pretty much all I wanted from the club.