We've made our way to Blackburn...
By Doug Lawson
...We don't know if we'll get home....
"The spirit of Dunkirk," Fincham said. Whatever, the spirits of fuel and
transport were in our favour. Food at Toddington, fuel at Rothersthorpe, and
arrival at the Fernhurst at 5pm. Four hours, not bad for V**xh*ll! The
Fernhurst, a fine "Star Lodge" establishment offering ridiculously tasty
food and cheap beverages. An up-market Harvester, the stuff of
awayday dreams. This was to be a night to remember.
Mark collected our programme early doors, a shiny affair to make Rupe's pulse
race but sadly rather thin. Inside, a pin up of Nick Wright's secret
half-cousin John Curtis!
While we were tucking into our 12oz Cumberland turds, news filtered through
that Vialli had been given the push - why don't we have a Chairman who gets
that involved?
So to the game - "Another 'Bored' Meeting" proclaimed the advert for Ewood Park
Conference Centre - no chance!
Watford play "we're rubber, you're glue" with the BRFC midfield, and concede
two early goals. The first an unmarked header by Dunn. The second again an
easy goal for Blake. Two-nil down and we are getting that Premier feeling
again.
Then the dream starts; Jansen goes down after colliding with Espen and is
stretchered off, Diawara comes on but the Blackburn "shape" is gone. Hyde
collects the ball outside their area and switches from his right foot to his
left (what???) then shoots. Two-one. Now the ball floats in front of their
goal again, Tommy Smith is inches away, we sigh as another chance goes begging.
Helguson comes to have a look at what's happening - "what was that?" he asks,
as the ball hits his head then the net and now it's two-two! Suddenly "We're
gonna win three-two" is looking like a reality! We all show the home fans
the score! Then five minutes later, Micah has the ball again. We're at home,
watching telly, it's just a replay? No, it's three-two. Ward puts it just wide
five minutes later. Half time, beer, Fulham losing, orgasms all round. We've
played forty-two minutes in our own half and three in theirs, but we're a goal ahead...
The second half beckons. We look better in the second half, but the midfield
is still Blackburn's territory. Then we get a corner. The ball rolls around
a bit near the goal, and ten Watford players score. The tannoy says it was
Steve, but Tom is celebrating...will we ever know? Several WFC
travellers become incontinent in the ensuing disco.
Later Blackburn break, the fairground music starts, Blackburn fire shots at
Baardsen like corks at ducks! One, Two, Three, Four each parried by Espen as
we laugh and soil our underwear simultaneously.
Still later, only a few minutes to go (please?!), the ref joins the carnival
atmosphere. Robbo and Berg clash heads, ON THE EDGE OF THE AREA REF! OI!
REF! He gives a drop ball in front of the goal, ten feet from our line.
Blake wins the scuffle, scoots past the melee and shoots. It's four-three and
the singing stops. The ref switches to the "Man Utd watch" and the last two
minutes stretch to fill an hour as the ball travels the length of the pitch
numrous times. Then the whistle blows and suddenly we wake up...
So 4-3...anyone know where we can fill up?
