Spoilt child syndrome: the product of believing your own hype

Time to readjust expectations and avoid the temptation to throw a wobbly

On Friday I left Vicarage road with such a sulk on it would rival that of a 7 year-old having their chocolate biscuits confiscated by an overly diligent lunch lady. The team I had believed were going to sweep all before them with the consummate swagger of Ronnie O’Sullivan inexorably amassing a frame-winning break: although it hasn’t happened yet, you know that red will follow black until the routine clearance of the colours leads to smug placement of cue next to cushion, followed by wry smile, and, in a cheeky Essex accent, he mutters: “Right…just off for a piss…rack ‘em up.” As with Watford, win would follow win as we arrogantly dispatched the dross of the Championship to claim automatic promotion and a place in the Premier League; where our new, immensely talented squad would feel more at home. It was surely an inevitability; unfortunately not.

"Oi! Oid loik a few a them loan players oi would!"

The way in which Watford reeled in their rivals over the past few months, scoring a plethora of precision-crafted counter-attacking goals along the way, ushered-in the most exciting period of league table gazing I have ever indulged in. The rest of the league suddenly sat up and took notice. An increasing barrage of sly about “An army of foreign loanees” crept into the twitto-blogo-chatting-footy-breezosphere as – much like Ian Holloway in his post-match interview – in true childlike tantrum mode, people began wailing “It’s not fair!...They can’t do that AND win! They haven’t even paid for them! It’s just not…fair!” As if paying with promissory notes or signing up to a direct debit worth hundreds of thousands of Kuwaiti dinar, or trillions of Indian rupees, or oodles of Russian rubles, or, in Watford’s case, Italian euros over centuries, as seems to be standard practice these days, would somehow legitimise our rise up the table.

Regardless of the sniping, it felt as though Watford had become arguably the best team in the league. The only reason we were not alongside Cardiff, cantering confidently towards the Premier League, was the fact that we hardly won a game for the first two months of the season as the loan army were forced to watch videos of late 90’s football for hours on end and taught the subtleties of the meaning of the English phrase “Wing-back.”

Much to my dismay, however, the repetition of the New Year’s Day squad rotation fiasco against Bristol City last Tuesday sowed a seed of doubt in the back of my mind. Suddenly our rather short yet talismanic manager was fallible; suddenly the formerly mesmeric foreign loanees couldn’t cope with a wet and windy Tuesday night affair in Bristol; suddenly second spot was swiped from our grasp just as we stretched out our arms to seize it.

Frustration and confusion reigned: “That wasn’t supposed to happen” Confidence in the bottomless depth of our squad shattered: “Why didn’t we play our BEST players!?” With the monumental Palace clash looming ominously on the calendar it was a swift slap to the face which provoked an angry reaction that somehow insinuated that Zola had cheated us out of our eagerly anticipated prize like an Icelandic volcano had suddenly put pay to our holiday plans.

Last week’s recovery at home to Bolton somewhat steadied the ship, but I’m sure those little nervous demons still crept into the stomachs of even the most brazen supporters going into the televised super-blockbusting on Friday at Vicarage road. Which Watford would turn up? Who was going to feature in the starting line-up? Would Vydra be knackered from his midweek international exertions? Had Forestieri been told that he might have to work on a Friday?

15 minutes in to the game we thought we had our answer: Forestieri had found his way to the bench, Vydra was definitely knackered, but it didn’t matter because it was clearly the killer-hornets that had taken the field. A message was being hastily readied to sent to the rest of the league saying: “Bristol was a one-off. You can resume your sniping: two goals from two loanees with…more to follow #theornsaregoingup.”

Unfortunately, the game wasn’t killed off by half-time, the killer sting was lacking. Going into the break, despite the score line, there was still an irritatingly eyebrow-raising cacophony coming from the away end. “Do these deluded travellers not know when they’re beaten?” I thought to myself. The answer was a resounding “No!...We don’t.” As the incessant racket continued into the second half, a rejuvenated Palace started to press Watford into harried knee-jerk, disjointed football, denying us any space and time to play our pleasingly fluent yet languid passing game. The Eagles wanted the ball and, spurred on by their terrific away support, they were getting it.

The momentum of the game had changed completely and, eventually, two deserved second-half goals from Peter Ramage (former loanee) and Kevin Phillips (current loanee) delivered a second unwelcome and sobering slap to the face in the space of 10 days. This one, however, was truly a bubble-burster.

Watford are where they are in the table on merit; we are a very good Championship side who look comfortably top 6. What we are not, is a cut above the rest. At times it has felt like it – Huddersfield and Forest being the most obvious recent examples – but even during what has been a compellingly exciting run of form, we have perhaps flattered to deceive. Although there have been some fantastic performances this season, there have always been spells in most games where our rhythm has been lost.

Coupled with the occasional infuriating mistake, we can also get caught out tactically. There is evidence to suggest that teams are starting to cotton on to the fact that, if you press hard, or alternatively, invite Watford onto you, playing on the counter, there are discernible chinks in the armour. The shining armour that previously shone so brightly blinding fans into thinking it was perfect ended up raising expectations way beyond grounded reality. It was easy to think that promotion and even Premier League survival next season was not only achievable, but likely.

When you raise expectations to such a height, it is easy for fans to feel bitterly disappointed at the slightest hiccough. So disappointed you may act like a querulous child seeking to blame someone for letting you down. However, it must be remembered that this is a development season. Promotion was not even part of the plan. For now, it has to be enough that we are almost certainly going to be involved right up until the end of the season. It will be exciting, but it may well end in disappointment. The main thing is that the club is not only stable but on the rise, even if it is not as meteoric as it first appeared!