Watford 2nd Half

By: Tony Butcher
Date: 16/04/2001

The rain fell, hard and cold, blowing into Coyne's face and the pitch started to disintegrate, becoming divot city very quickly. You would have thought this would favour Watford. They're not interested in keeping the ball on the ground, are they?

Neither side made any changes at half time, which dismayed many in the Pontoon, who wanted Coldicott off as a sacrifice for Watford's goal. A sacrifice to the God of Groan. Watford started the second half at a very high pace and a slight variation on their game plan. Instead of simply knocking the ball up to Kevin Francis (sorry, I mean supposedly Gifted Noel-Williams) to act as a wall, they hit it early down the flanks attempting to "turn" the full backs. Didn't get them anywhere as McDermott is far too wily to fall for such simple tactics (he's been there, done that enough times), and Gallimore was extremely competent. Remember you read it here, eventually. Gallimore defended solidly. He played well. There, got it off my chest, I feel much better now. I knew this day would come. And Watford playing quicker meant that they gave the ball back to Town, er, quicker. I can't remember Watford stringing more than 3 passes together. The third pass was always awry. They should stick to high energy kick and rush, passing doesn't become them.

Town came out and tried to play faster too, well fast by Town standards. Fast translated as Pouton and Coldicott running around even more. The first Town effort came from that deadly marksman, Mr Alan Pouton. He surged forward from midfield and tried a low screamer from 25 yards. He slightly scuffed the shot and the ball hit Livingstone's heel on the way through. There was enough power left for the ball to roll through to the 'keeper, Livvo not quite being able to sprint forward and reach the ball before Chamberlain. This might have been the moment that Livvo attempted to recreate his thoroughly saintly, legal and not at all cynical goal creating challenge from last week. There was a slight hesitation from our saviour as he advanced, almost a pang of conscience? Anyway he didn't try and kill the keeper, so Chamberlain survived till quarter to five.

Around the 50 minute mark Town started to rack up the pressure on Watford, driving them back towards the Pontoon, literally overpowering them. The catalyst for this was Pouton, who dispossessed Nielsen just inside the Watford half and stormed down the middle, cut across to the Town left, performed a trademark step-over to create space and zipped the ball across the face of the goal. A couple of minutes later Town broke down the right, with the ball being laid off by Cornwall to Donovan, who ran forward from the half way line. Cornwall ran across Donovan, taking a couple of defenders to the right touchline, creating a big hole for Donovan to run into (ah, the hole. Donovan cannot see a hole without jumping in it). Donovan sprinted forward leaving three defenders in his wake. When he reached the edge of the penalty area he slid the ball out to Livingstone, totally unmarked 6 yards wide of the 'keeper's right hand post. He had all the time in the world, and Livvo took it. He advanced a couple of yards and tried to curl the ball delicately around the 'keeper in to the far left hand side of the goal. The 'keeper flung himself to his left and just managed to tip the ball a couple of inches wide, the ball bobbling slowly out for a corner.

The Donovan surge got the crowd really wound up and Watford seemed to crumble under the Wall of Noise that was the next 15 minutes. Like the Tranmere game, the crowd really lifted the team, you could see the players become more energised when the crowd got going. Conversely you could see some of the Watford players shrink. It was like the Pontoon was sucking the ball in. The game retreated closer and closer to the Pontoon, with Pouton standing in the centre of the pitch collecting every loose ball, running the game like a shaven headed Burnett. Town won corners and free kicks and generally forced the all back towards Chamberlain by sheer force of will. Campbell put in a couple of dangerous crosses from the left which were cleared with difficulty; Donovan started to run at the left back, which seemed to surprise and panic him (no, not Donovan). And finally Watford cracked.

Near the hour Campbell fell beautifully near the end of the Stones/Findus/Smiths stand, about 25 yards out. The Pontoon stood up and sang "Mariners, Mariners" as the kick was being taken (not petering out beforehand, as is usually the case) thus increasing the pressure and excitement. Gallimore crossed in to the centre towards Cornwall. The ball ricocheted out to the left hand side of the penalty area, whereupon Pouton ran across and hooked the ball back across goal from a couple of yards from the touchline, about 10 yards wide of the goal. The ball sailed over the 'keeper towards a whole bunch of players near the centre of the goal. HANDYSIDE headed the ball down firmly and the ball bounced in to the top left hand corner of the goal. The Town fans exploded with joy, not only because we'd got a deserved equaliser, but because of the identity of the goalscorer, who looked very surprised, to say the least. It felt like the crowd had created the goal. Supporting, rather than observing. People were actually dancing with joy in the Pontoon. The favourite seemed to be the running up and down on the spot waving the arms like you're climbing a rope quickly.

And the noise kept on coming for another 6 or 7 minutes. Wave upon wave of Town attacks accompanied the baying, singing and screaming. However, probably the defining moment of the game came immediately after Handyside's goal. Watford won a corner on Town's left. It was taken short and crossed to the far post, about 10 yards out. The big centre half, Ward, unmarked headed down firmly towards the bottom centre right of goal. Coyne threw himself across the goal and punched the ball away. Another great save. A game saving save too. And then we had 5 more minutes of Town, Town, Town. Chamberlain had proven himself to be a kicker of erratically Crichtonian proportions, with several slicing low to his own players. Just past the hour he fly kicked straight to Donovan about 30 yards out, who raced down the wing and crossed perfectly to the far post. Livingstone, alone about a couple of yards beyond the post and 5 or 6 yards out, completely miss-timed his header and cheeked the ball on to his own forearm. The ball plopped gently into the 'keeper's arms. Terrible miss, great cross. Whoops.

After about 67 or 68 minutes the ground suddenly fell silent, like the supporters were tired and needed a rest. So nothing happened. Like the first half it was a midfield fight. And then, glory upon glory, miracle upon miracle, it happened again in the 72nd minute. Watford build up play down the Town left was stopped by Gallimore, who ran down the line about 5 yards and passed to Cornwall, just inside the Watford half under the Stones/Smiths/Findus stand. Cornwall laid the ball off to Campbell who waited for Gallimore to surge past him and laid off an exquisitely weighted ball further down the touchline. Gallimore outpaced and out fought the Watford defender, who was shrugged aside like an irritating puppy. Our former shaky one continued his run and got to the bye-line, at the edge of the penalty area. He crossed low and hard to the near post. The 'keeper dived low to collect the cross at the foot of his right hand post. No problem. Except Ward lunged forward and managed to make the ball spin slowly over the now prostrate Chamberlain and roll across the face of the goal, about a foot out. COLDICOTT seized the day and finished brilliantly from a few inches out, just.

The jigging started again in the stands, the noise reverberated around the ground. Only 6,000 in Blundell Park? It sounded like thousands more. All the players descended on our new hero (the one large sections of the crowd wanted to be taken off at half time) and Watford shrank a little more. All the players except McDermott, who trotted over from right back to shake the hand of Gallimore as he wearily trudged back up the left hand touchline. That says a lot about the man, doesn't it? Macca has acted like the father of the team the last couple of weeks.

It was all very emotional and the crowd bayed at every tackle, every throw in, every back pass, every free kick. Sheer will from players and supporters got the Town through the remaining 20 minutes. Watford did have spells of pressure, throwing men forward and the ball even more quickly and directly (we didn't think that would be possible, but they did manage it). There were three or four potentially disastrous moments, principally through Mooney skulking round the back of the last defender, but Coyne placed himself perfectly three times to easily save shots. The rest was gallant defending, with Handyside and Groves forming an immovable barrier. Watford brought on a very small substitute who played as a left winger. He was extremely fast, but McDermott simply eased him in to corner or infield. And then Pouton or Coldicott crunched through him.

After 75 minutes Jeffrey replaced Cornwall, who received a thoroughly deserved ovation for his running, persistence and strength. All those things we'd never seen before from him. Jeffrey ran around and held the ball up a few times, generally being a bit of a nuisance to Watford. Not much of a nuisance, just a bit. There was a comical chase down the Town left in the last 15 minutes. A Town clearance sailed off down below the Stones/Smith/Findus and Livingstone "sprinted" after the ball with Page. This may astound you but Livvo won the race. It was the Race that Time Forgot, it was so wonderfully ponderous. Two Stegosaurs in search of a lunch. Despite the pressure from Watford, they just did not look dangerous. They were very ordinary and very half-hearted. It was like they had nothing to play for, a mid table holiday performance. They didn't have the individual technique to outplay Town, and their tactics were quite basic. If they'd played at twice the speed and twice the intensity they could have overrun Town, but they didn't. Not our problem, is it.

Two minutes of extra time were added and, after 1 minute 50 seconds of the added time, Watford got a free kick 25 yards out on the right touchline. It was swung over and the ball seemed to fall to a Watford player on the right side of the area, a challenge was made, the Watford player fell over and the referee blew his whistle for….the end of the game. The crowd erupted, the players leapt about - it was like we'd won a cup final. All the players stood in the middle of the pitch waving at the crowd for a minute or so, Coyne ran over and punched the air, as did Pouton. Happiness, an unusual commodity at Blundell Park. And then the other results were announced over the tannoy and you could say that the crowd were delighted with the afternoon. Who cares about the rain? What rain?

Fantastic result, and a great spirited performance. Not classic football, but like the Tranmere game the crowd and players fed off each other, the one encouraging the other to give more. It doesn't matter whether the crowd get the players going, or the other way round. It happened, two weeks running. The team and supporters are performing as one, making Blundell Park what it once was, a place the opposition fear coming to. Two teams have cracked under the pressure. It is like a cauldron.

None of the players can be criticised, they all gave what they had (although Campbell looked worn out, he still tried and tried). The central midfield was colossal, whenever the ball ran loose one of Pouton and Coldicott would get it. No matter where they were the ball was theirs. Some challenges were "30-70", but they still got there. Town looked solid in defence and dangerous up front. Livingstone and Cornwall look like a complementary partnership - presence and pace, aggression and energy. Goals don't seem like a distant aspiration, or an accident, now.

You know, it's been quite enjoyable watching Town this last week. Just a couple more games like those and ……..

NickO's Man of the Match - McDermott was superb, immense, impassable and a real rock, as was the whole of the defence. Gallimore attacked, and with purpose, being the driving force for the winner. Coldicott was wonderfully destructive - but really there is only one person. Pouton. He ran the game, stopped everything, started everything. Everywhere, omnipotent.

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