So I went to watch Watford play Wolves in the FA Cup semi final. Armed with my circa 2012 Watford shirt, I was ready to sit quietly in the bar and not mess up anyone else’s night whilst cheering on the mighty Horns…
Kick off was 10pm over here, so I grabbed a quick kebab (It was terrible…) before the game started, then headed over to the bar to represent my hometown.
Wolves looked dangerous on the counter attack. We were playing a good attacking game but just couldn’t get any clear cut chances. Wolves on the other hand were clinical, and scored from a set piece which made me sulk and play a game of pool on my todd…
HALF TIME: WATFORD 0-1 WOLVES
In the second half we started brightly and were the more fluent of the two teams, but we just couldn’t break them down. I started to think it just wasn’t going to be our day. Then Wolves got a free kick, predictably outwitted out defence and and Jimenez – after great control on his chest – volleyed past Gomes into the back of the net.
Two fucking nil…
There was a hint of offside, but I didn’t think it was. Replays kept suggesting he was half a yard offside but his feet were way behind the last defender. Seemed like a good goal to me.
Then normality resumed; we kept attacking but Wolves were putting on a defensive masterclass. We had far more possession, but if I had to guess who was going to get the next goal it would have been Wolves.
Enter the Deulofeu…
Another corner, another clearance from the Wolves defence. This time it fell to Deulofeu in the box, who sorted his feet, then hit a sublime right footed curling shot into the top corner. It took me a second to realise it had gone in because of the angle, but I did an obligatory fist pump and declared to no one that we were back in the game!
I knew we just needed to score a goal then it was game on. We’d got it, but we needed to keep that momentum going to get the all important equalizer. At 90 minutes the bar owner impatiently asked me if I wanted another drink. I said no unless we got a second goal. She wasn’t really listening and turned away, as I nervously hoped a chance would fall to one of our players.
There were 4 minutes added on, but nothing was happening. We just couldn’t break them down. Then at 92 minutes Deeney was fouled by some Wolves player in the box. I forgot to breathe as I looked at the ref, then he blew his whistle.
“He’s fucking given it!!!” I exhaled.
There was no way I was sitting down now. I paced nervously as Deeney placed the ball on the spot. He spanked it as hard as he could and although Ruddy went the right way, the shot was too hard for him to be able to react.
Pande-facking-monium!!! 2-2! Extra time loomed and we had to be the favourites…
For the entire extra time I couldn’t sit down. Then I got distracted by a South American girl with frizzy hair that walked into the bar. Dilemma time; do I watch Watford or chat to the pretty girl? She was with a mate, and I thought ,”I can get rejected by a girl any time, but how many times is this going to happen to Watford…?”
It turned out to be the right decision, as Watford broke away and Deulofeu, with a beautiful little run, finished it off by dinking it past the keeper
3-2, AND THE ONE WATFORD FAN IN THE BAR WENT WILD!!!!!!!
Wolves predictably went on the offence, but they had nothing left in the tank and if anything we could have got a fourth goal a couple of times on the breakaway. There were a couple of scares, but the final was ours.