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[donotscratchyoureyes]

Vendilo, Gino

As you might be aware, I coined the phrase #parlacigino (talk to us Gino) back in March after the diabolical QPR match. It felt like a natural line in the sand after two seasons of what can only be described as attritional football played by uninterested players, too many head coach sackings, crass stadium measures, a tone deaf comms policy and, lest we forget, a badly executed and poorly communicated ‘fans forum’.

This lead to some fans feeling disconnected from their club and an air of frustration gave way to low level demonstration.

This was met by the club enforcing measures so draconian that it took everyone by surprise. A towel that had ‘Pozzo Out’ written on it saw it’s owner being ejected from the ground, spoken to by the police and then banned from buying any further tickets until he ‘came in for a chat’.

Another banner with the same message was met with the phrase ‘there’s no free speech in this stadium’ as the owner was frog-marched out.

Stewarding levels were ramped up in both number and snarly attitude and the PA volume was increased to 11 to drown out the very small pockets of ‘get out of our club’ vocal dissent.

The original family club, everyone.

This ‘Pozzo Out’ sentiment, I felt, was premature. We’ve enjoyed 5 consecutive seasons and some famous victories in the premier league under Gino’s tenure. We do have, at last, a fully completed stadium which had previously looked like a building site with a condemned stand. So what had changed for some fans to want the owner out?

It seemed clear we needed to see the whites of his eyes, hence one small hashtag posted on the ‘Do Not Scratch Your Eyes’ twitter by myself. Obviously I was expecting for it to be lost in the sea of ‘Pozzo Out’ sentiment that was permeating, but it got a small amount of traction and within a week we were gathering like-minded folk together to work out how to get Gino and supporters in the same room after the club cannily chucked it over to the fans to organise after their disastrous cock-up the previous season.

I’ll not go into the machinations of how the event in June finally happened as this has been discussed to death elsewhere and I don’t think my mental health could take it, but happen it did. Gino met the supporters.

And again, I’ll not go into details of what was said at the meeting, you can find the live blogs and the full transcript elsewhere. However at the end of the meeting it did feel like some air was cleared and that there was an understanding of what Pozzo was trying to achieve. We finally had a clue about his personality and crucially his philosophy after 11 years of his club ownership.

Four months later we have had a terrible (in my view) transfer window in terms of players coming in and we are watching what is now, worryingly, looking like relegation form football. Yes, we are sitting a few places off League One as this is being typed.

‘Oh’ say some supporters ‘but what about the January window? Maybe he’ll bring in the right players then!’ I doubt that. It hasn’t happened for the past, what, five windows has it? And now the person responsible for bringing in the talent has been sacked. Goodbye Ben Manga.

Enough now. Enough. The slippery slope we have found ourselves on since the 2019 FA Cup final shows no sign of abating; in fact it looks like it’s taking steeper turns.

Pozzo heard the hopes, expectations and concerns of Watford fans at that meeting in June and should have left feeling buoyant but also humbled having been handed a second chance whilst having to tiptoe on the thinnest of ice.

That ice is showing signs of cracking now. Previously staunch supporters of Pozzo are turning against him and if things on the pitch don’t improve dramatically (and the fan reaction to that isn’t handled in a more measured way by the club this time around) it could be that he is inching towards demonstrations that could well be more vociferous this time around, too.

So here’s a new hashtag: #VendiloGino (‘Sell Gino’). Sell whilst your legacy is relatively untarnished. Sell whilst the supporters might still think of you as the second greatest owner after Elton John. Sell before it’s too late and further damage is done. Sell before your bloody-mindedness sees our club drop down to the third tier of English football.

Sell to someone with a spark of enthusiasm. Someone willing to throw more than £50k on Tom Ince after reaping tens of millions in transfer fees. Someone who will hire the right recruitment team and not rely on peculiar looking deals with less than reputable looking agents.

We were here before you arrived. We’ll be here after you go. Don’t worry about us. We’ve seen all this before. But nothing changes until it changes at the top. It’s time for that change.

#VendiloGino

[donotscratchyoureyes]

Whatever happened to the entertainment?

Not the stuff being played on the pitch. That’s been AWOL for several seasons. No I mean the peripheral fun to be found at the football. Years ago, when I started attending football matches at Vicarage Road you wouldn’t just have multi-millionaire footballers running in relays ignoring requests for autographs, a video that’s barley audible about organ donation or a pitch sprinkler system as the visual appetiser for the main event.

No no. We had razzmatazz. Marching bands, on opera singer, Harry The Hornet prancing about to ‘Shake A Tailfeather’ in the centre circle or people parachuting onto the pitch before a game. The absolute minimum would be a three piece jazz band lolloping around the pitch perimeter strumming banjos and singing something or another about catching tigers.

In more modern recent times, men with large yellow cannons fired rolled up t-shirts into the crowd. It was always handy to have my 6’ 5” mate next to me when that happened as he caught more than his share.

It wasn’t just Vicarage Road that afforded such variety in a matchday programme (this presumably is why they are called matchday programmes by the way, as they used to give you an idea of what to expect and at what time during the afternoon, and weren’t just there as an outlet for local tax planner adverts or updates on the centre half’s hamstring injury). Anyway, I digress. On a junior hornets trip to Spurs in the 80s, Chas & Dave played a medley of their Rockney favourites pre-match. This was the equivalent of seeing The Beatles at Shea Stadium for an 11 year old me.

Half-time at The Vic had some extras too. Whilst men in wellies stuck forks into divots and re-sanded the 6 yard boxes, large hoops were often spaced out across the pitch, set on fire and before you knew it RAF German Shepherd dogs were jumping through them. Dangerous Brian made an appearance once. Demonstrations were put on by local amputee teams playing football on crutches. Oh, and does anyone else remember ‘The Hornettes?’

Alas this eventually got watered down into the half-time shoot outs and the Harry’s 50/50 draw. I mean whatever happened to that? Harry’s 50/50? Maybe Stake or Mr. Q couldn’t face the competition.

It was such a simple idea. Pay a quid, get handed a numbered ticket, some ex-player or celebrity would put their hand in a bucket after a brief ‘how are you’ interview and a lucky punter got a three figure prize. For me it was always the selling of these tickets I found rather irritating, though. No sooner had you squeezed through the turnstile someone would bellow ‘HARRY’S FIFTY FIF-TEH!’ at 90 decibels down your ear canal. No wonder I have hearing difficulties and am under doctors orders to swallow a blood pressure pill daily now.

These days however, there’s nothing really. Pre-match, someone will gamely ask kids via the tannoy who their favourite players are (usually it’s one that scored last or joined in the summer window) or what the score will be (usually it’s 2-0). Then it’s the Endean/Blissett/DeMerit/Deeney goal mash up on the big screens and the teams come out. I believe Warner Bros are bidding for the movie rights for this major entertainment.

In a peculiar way, having the beleaguered Al Bangura walk round the pitch in a bid to stop his deportation was more fun than what’s served up to us these days.

Is this all purely a financial measure? A bit of penny pinching that means ‘Armitage Shanks And His Peptic Two’ have to take their jangly tunes about big cats elsewhere?

Or is it that the pitch is so precious these days that even the slightest touch of a non-footballing Adidas Predator on it will damage it irreparably and spoil it for future generations to come?

Or is it that that kind of entertainment is just old fashioned? I can’t imagine Alsatians hurling through flames will ever be dated but who knows?

Maybe it’s all about the organ donation videos these days.

[donotscratchyoureyes]

It turns out the fans are the problem…

The fans need cracking down on and putting in their place. They need to be aware that showing dissent against the club will find them ejected from the ground and not allowed back in until they have a meeting with some unknown entity.

The fans are there to be drowned out with over amplified music at half time in case the cathartic booing upsets the delicate ears of the board.

The fans are there to be monitored by an over zealous stewardship, keenly keeping an eye on anyone dissenting and not enjoying the football in front of them. You will enjoy it. Hey you, sit down. Is that your seat?

The fans will be so undervalued that they can all do one and leave the stadium half empty for all we care. And if the club eventually fails it’s the fans fault for not sitting obediently with big grins on their faces singing songs about being grateful to the board.

The fans can forget about entering the ground with their own food and drink. They aren’t allowed to stay warm in our stadium during the winter. Make sure they leave any flasks at home. We have sausage rolls here priced at over £4 each, they have one of those instead.

The fans can have as many managers a season as they can stomach. They can bid on match shirts issued to players so utterly dreadful they will be shipped off mid-season and forgotten forever. Do we hear £50?

The fans will have their social media feeds flooded with arrogant drivel. We will drive a message so far removed from reality that replies of dissent will flood the comments underneath, none of which we will read. The brand message will go ahead without humility or any reference to reality.

Oh, and ultimately the fans can sort out this mess. If they DARE to want to meet us, we’ll leave it to them to sort it out, regardless of any EFL obligations or four figure fines for not facilitating a meeting ourselves. And if it backfires we can blame it on them. Win/win.

It’s all the fans fault, you see. Now shut up and renew your season tickets.

[donotscratchyoureyes]

What sort of thing is happening here?

It’s not just the performances. It’s not just the fact that we lost both matches to QPR, Swansea and Millwall this season. It’s not just the the poor quality of communication being sent out from inside the club, the continual sacking of managers or the way the ‘Pozzo Out’ protest banner was instantly removed and the fan unfurling it escorted out.

It’s not just the silence from the top, the prohibition of any food or drink being brought into the stadium, the worrying set of accounts, the sheer contempt of the Harry Potter buses, the piss-poor player recruitment or the unfathomable January window loan signings.

It’s not just the fans turning on each other, nobody knowing who Mogi Bayat really is or what Cristiano Giaretta does, the purchase of a £5m goalkeeper who doesn’t set foot onto the pitch or the Hokey Cokey of Pedro’s transfer to Newcastle.

It’s not just the constant smell of burning in the Ann Swanson stand, the ‘Hell Or High Water’ backing of Rob Edwards, the mid-season hamstring epidemic or watching Keinan Davis doing an impression of a statue on the pitch.

And it’s certainly not about an outrageous sense of supporter entitlement.

It’s the feeling inside as a fan. That intangible sense that the club you once bought into for its integrity, spirit and values both on and off the pitch is being reduced to rust.

It’s that rush of excitement of seeing ‘your players’ on the pitch being diminished by a group of mismatched misfits that go through the motions, seemingly unaware of what an unpleasant and frustrating experience it is watching them and the previously unfelt and hitherto unimaginable sense of wanting the entire squad moved on or retired in the summer.

It’s the lack of warmth emanating from the top, filtering its way through the machine of unfeeling and soulless communications. It’s the admins of the clubs’s social media channels, seemingly unable to read a room that illuminated with a thousand floodlights.

If the club can’t be bothered then why should the fans? Their loyalty has been stretched to breaking point over the past few seasons, and how are they rewarded? By the list that started this piece, that’s how.

This season could well be one of the most defining in our history. And for all the wrong reasons.

[donotscratchyoureyes]

It’s a default position

I realise I sound like a stuck record. But that’s because nothing is changing and we are plunged firmly into a worn out groove.

Last year, watching us at home to Arsenal, Carl was filming us talking in the stand. I said to him ‘there isn’t one player in our squad I would miss if they were sold’. Fast forward a calendar year and the feeling is the same. I wouldn’t miss any of them.

I can still remember the slightly sickened feeling I had when someone at school told me Nigel Callaghan was being sold to Derby. When Richard Johnson was linked to Leeds it felt almost impossible to envisage him in a kit other than the yellow and black.

Last year, Watford’s Player Of The Season was Hassane Kamara. Quickly and without resorting to YouTube can you remember ANYTHING that he did that made him stand out for this award? Tricky isn’t it? He picked up that trophy because he was the best of a wholly terrible bunch. Picking up POTS last year was akin to winning an award for having the best wasting disease. When he was sold to Udinese in the summer it barely registered. In fact I think I might have given out a small joyful yelp. Imagine my disappointment when he was immediately loaned back.

If the current squad can be compared to a steaming pile of dung (and, let’s be honest here, they can) Joao Pedro and Ken Sema are the two small shoots of something more green and pretty growing out of it.

When credible sources announced Pedro’s transfer to Newcastle was ‘a done deal’ in August, Peter and myself were guests on the ‘Loaded Mag’ NUFC podcast not once but twice to discuss how much he’d be missed at Watford.

But lately he seems to do a lot of running around getting fouled starting attacking moves 25-30 yards deeper than he should be. He’s not the ‘exciting number 10’ we informed Loaded Mag he was going to be at St James’ Park.

Sema huffs and puffs and does the work that you would expect someone in his position to do. The fact that he’s standing out like some kind of footballing wizard is actually more on the disinterested bunch of wallies he shares a dressing room with. He’ll probably get Player Of The Season this year.

Who will miss Keinan Davis, Hamza Choudhury or Henrique Araújo when their loans expire? Who will be utterly gutted when Sarr gets a move for 65% less than we paid for him?

Not me. And I was saying all of this about the Watford squad twelve months ago too.

[donotscratchyoureyes]

All The Gear And No Idea

A tortured musical instrument/Watford FC analogy 

Back in the day, when Britpop was at it’s peak, I played guitar in a local covers band. If you frequented small live music venues between 1995-2000 in the corridor between Hayes and Watford (centring mainly around the Uxbridge area) you might have seen me and four other struggling local musicians performing for a few quid and as much lime and soda as it was possible to consume in three hours.  

Often, we’d be on the bill with other bands, most of which were highly accomplished and showed us up to be the young pretenders that we were. Occasionally, however, we would look on in bewildered disbelief at bands who we termed as “all the gear and no idea”. 

One such evening that illustrates this was when we were one of four bands booked to play as part of a “mini-festival” at RAF Northolt. Two bands went on before us; a school band doing their first ever gig started proceedings, followed by a female duo one of whom was an excellent bass player clothed only in a skimpy bra. Whilst we were watching and waiting at the side of the stage the headliners decided to come across and introduce themselves. A more cocky and arrogant bunch of pricks it would have been hard to find. Their guitarist was quick to point out the thousands of pounds worth of guitars at his disposal, his hugely impressive rack of effects pedals (he scoffed that I only ever used one clean/overdrive switch) and their over-powering PA. Blimey, we thought, we’d better up our game here or these new superstars of rock n’ roll are going to make us look like right chumps. Such was their collective ego I was imagining that this was going to be a seminal moment in music history and one day I’d be able to tell people we supported them. 

Anyway. Our set went down very well with the crowd and once we had finished packing up we got ourselves crowd side to watch the headliners. 

What followed was 45 minutes of utter drivel. Out of tune badly played instruments accompanied badly-chosen covers and sixth form standard  “here’s one of our own” songs that concluded to absolute silence. In an act of self-preservation they fired up a 20-minute jam of “20th Century Boy” by T-Rex to round off the evening. Unfortunately this proved to be a poor decision and the crowd went mild. 

The promoter was understandably rather cheesed-off and asked us to unpack our less expensive, understated gear and do another set. So we did. Starting with a rousing version of “20th Century Boy” by T-Rex. 

“This is all marvellous” I hear you say “but what has all of this got to do with Watford?!”

Well. Is it just me or are Watford a bit...”all the gear and no idea” at the moment?

We have, on paper, a squad that most of The Championship would LOVE to have at their disposal. Every time we guest on other team’s podcasts there’s often a slight note of jealousy when they talk about our players. For every Argos £199 guitar and amp bundle in their squad, we can show them a 1958 Les Paul and Marshall JCM800 combo. Trouble is we seem to be missing our equivalent of Slash to get a decent tune out of them. 

Watford are a headline band, blessed with a rack of the finest instruments money can buy, but too often they’re only good for the odd chorus sing-a-long. Watching them week in week out you’ll quickly discover yourself in extended “RAF Festival Glam Rock jam” territory. 

Still, today, 26 years after the event, I get to tell people we supported that band. Only not in the terms that I suspect they would have wanted at the time.

[donotscratchyoureyes]

The DNSYE Curse

It seems we have developed a bit of a hex at DNSYE Towers. One that was as unwitting as it was unforeseeable. Unfortunately it seems every ‘current’ player that we interview goes on to be a complete dud.

Now to be fair this is taken from a sample of, erm, two. So it’s about as scientific as it is spurious BUT the fact remains: there is a Do Not Scratch Your Eyes curse!

Cast your mind back to the end of last season. Ben ‘smile for the camera’ Foster is off and there’s a flurry of excitement surrounding a new goalkeeper. The official Watford FC socials seem excited to show him arriving at the training ground, grabbing a plate of food and meeting his new teammates; all very exciting stuff. Then there was the usual club social media overkill of pictures, pictures, pictures. Pictures.

It was easy to get sucked into the idea that here was the new Tony Coton.

When we were offered the opportunity to interview him we jumped at the chance. To be fair to Maduka Okoye he is great to talk to and the resultant podcast was received well.

A few weeks later we got a chance to see Maduka between the sticks when we took on MK Dons in the league cup, and oh dear. He wasn’t very good that day was he? To be fair none of the team were, but it was disappointing to see our shiny exclusive podcast had a smear of tarnish on it. Not long after a clip surfaced online of him playing for the Nigeria B team. And oh dear. He wasn’t very good again. His next appearance was Reading in the FA Cup. And oh dear…

It turns out he’s more Tony Robinson than Tony Coton.

Kortney Hause. Remember him? Possibly not as his career at Watford seems to be a bit ‘blink and you’ll miss it’. Well, 90 mins before the announcement of the death of The Queen (not our fault, honest) we were talking to Kortney.

Again, the resultant content was all good. As engaging and entertaining guests go Kortney is up there. However if you try and remember which matches he’s featured in this season it’s only a matter of nanoseconds before you’re Googling the stats. He may as well have stayed in the midlands whilst we send the pay check up. At the time of writing his made a whopping three appearances for us.

So. Either we are extremely unlucky in our choice of interviewees or we are somehow influencing their chances of becoming successful at our club once they have spoken to us.

If you’ve got a player you’re fed up with watching drop us a line and we’ll try and arrange a podcast. Just to test the theory that it’s not us, it’s them.

[donotscratchyoureyes]

A day in the life of the DNSYE podcast

6:30am wake up, check the socials. Twitter seems to full of comments on an Uncle Ron post

6:50am make breakfast, see a post from the official Watford FC channel which contains ‘highlights’ of the latest thrashing at the weekend

8:05am create scheduled tweets in advance of the next match. Try to work out what time to set them for (90 mins after a 12:30pm kick-off). Send them in the WhatsApp group

8:10am change time of scheduled tweets as Peter points out the match finishes half an hour later than I worked it out to be

9:25am create scheduled Twitter Space to finish after next match

9:30am create new scheduled Twitter Space to finish after next match as forget to set previous one to record

10:00am sit down to edit a 45 minute podcast that we recorded a couple of nights ago

2:05pm complete edit and upload it to new hosting platform. Try to work out new complicated mid-roll advertising procedure. Realise artwork for episode not created

2:15pm add newly created artwork to episode and hit upload. Message: Error on episode. That’s helpful.

2:17pm realise Zoom link for tonight’s recording hasn’t been created. Set it up. Copy and paste it into WhatsApp group.

2:19pm edit time on Zoom link after Peter reminds me ‘we said 7:30pm not 7pm’ in WhatsApp reply

2:25pm try uploading podcast again. Forget what text I had put into previous attempt and use shorter and almost certainly less amusing text in new version

2:28pm episode saves correctly. Just as well as I seem to wiped the original raw file somehow

3:05pm make amusing meme for Twitter

3:07pm delete meme before posting as it probably isn’t actually that amusing

6:15pm finish reading through Telegram group. Look through fixture list and realise with nine matches this month we are going to be very busy

7:29pm start up Zoom. See Peter waiting, let him in

7:34pm message Carl in WhatsApp group to see if he got the Zoom link ok

7:39pm receive message in WhatsApp group from Carl. He thought we said tomorrow can we give him five minutes?

9:20pm the half hour podcast recording appears to have taken nearly two hours

10:05pm have another glance at the Telegram group. Only 220 notifications this time

11:07pm receive five notifications on WhatsApp group which I won’t see until 6:20am the next day as I’m fast asleep

6:20am read WhatsApp blurry eyed. See something about an exciting guest that Carl has secured out of focus. Put glasses on and start the day all over again…

[donotscratchyoureyes]

The modern Watford footballer guidebook

Congratulations on joining Watford FC as one of our players, it’s great to have you here. Whether you’ve been raffled in by ‘Mogi Bayat’s Tombola Of Shite’ or scouted by the butterfly man (whom for some reason seems untouchable and we’re not really sure what he does anyway) we hope that your career at our club outlasts most of our managers. On average you can expect to play for at least five of them during your tenure at Vicarage Road.

Don’t worry too much about supporter interaction as we have largely phased that out now unless there is a photo opportunity in a hospital ward or at a junior hornets event. We advise you to walk off the team coach looking ‘focused’ with an oversized pair of white headphones on to avoid the plebs that fund your lifestyle. We’d also like you give the impression that you’re in a hurry when posing for a selfie with a supporter.

Most of the current squad are holding a competition to see how many tattoos they can acquire before they turn 21 so please feel free to join in with that. If you could wait until you have at least a full sleeve and one on your neck before uploading them to your Instagram it would be appreciated.

We do have a list of post-match phrases that we’d like you to learn and use if you are interviewed after a game. These are:

* we go again

* we know what we need to do to improve

* obviously we aren’t happy with that result

* the lads tried hard but it just wasn’t our day

After a run of particularly poor results we tend to hold ‘a meeting’ where we get Troost-Ekong to pretend he’s a fan of the club and speak on behalf of the supporters. You’re welcome to ignore what he says and continue playing poorly.

If a head coach hurts your feelings after a match by pointing out how badly you played we recommend storming out of the dressing room and to go crying to the owners, so that we can consider sacking him. We can’t and won’t have you being upset, no matter what.

If we paid more than £10m for you, you will have your head turned by bigger clubs (usually Everton). Make sure you start to play petulantly as soon as the rumours start - this rule doesn’t apply to when you’re playing in international matches, however.

We do ask that you look as if you all like each other, and further, look like you’re actually trying in the training videos that we seem to film incessantly for our social media posts. A high five with the nearest player to you when you slide a two-yarder past Okoye is the bare minimum.

If you ever feel as if you’re not up for a match we advise you to do a ‘Feminia’ and apply to be excluded and/or subbed off mid match. In extreme circumstances you might be afforded what’s known as a ‘Hause’ where you can just stay at home with your feet up whilst we forward your salary on to you.

We do hope that you enjoy taking a ridiculously large wage regardless of the effort you put in during your time at Watford. Most of you will never get a chant created by the fans and you’ll never be regarded as legends - a lot of you won’t even be remembered - but it’s the way we, the current owners like it so the fans will just have to lump it. In fact we regard them as customers these days and no, the customers aren’t always right. We are.

Signed

The ownership of Watford FC

[donotscratchyoureyes]

Boxing Day fixtures

I really don’t like Boxing Day fixtures. For me, Boxing Day itself is the worst day of the year anyway what with it being the first of the comedown days from the Christmas festivities and another day closer to having to go back to work.

Trying to achieve anything other than sit in a large chair, find a ‘Carry On’ film on Channel 5 and nurse a hangover 24 hours after Christmas Day is always a bit of a struggle.

The thought of leaving the house and face watching 90 minutes of football isn’t one that I particularly relish, especially if it is a midday kick-off.

Further, I have several awful memories of matches played on St. Stephen’s Day from years gone by.

In the 2000/01 season for example there was a Boxing Day match away at Craven Cottage. Oh that was a proper belter that one. Standing on a cold terrace I witnessed a whopping 5-0 loss with a clueless looking Carlton Palmer running about in the midfield. Graham Taylor decided to retire at the end of that season and I always suspect it was this match that planted that particular thought in his mind.

The previous year (1999/00) we were in the premier league and playing Spurs away. Although there were very few positive results in that season on the whole, watching David Ginola tear us a new one in a 4-0 mauling made the tortured car journey/parking experience of White Hart Lane all the more painful.

In more recent times, watching an Eden Hazard masterclass in 2018 might have been entertaining for the visitors but the home fans must have been wishing they were at home tackling that large pile of washing up they’d not bothered with the previous day.

The 26th December clash against Wolves in 2014 ended up with us losing 0-1. To make it worse Watford legend Kenny Jackett was managing the opposition that day.

To really top it off, these matches invariably clash with some kind of seasonal family gathering that you arrive late to with everyone asking you ‘how did Watford get on?’ Pass me the Baileys, someone.

So no. I don’t enjoy Boxing Day matches. I think the ‘mid-winter break’ is a fine idea if it means scrapping this particular fixture. Perhaps we can start matches again for the FA cup third round in January, by which time the decorations are down, the players look a bit more up for it and the hangover of Christmas is long gone.

[donotscratchyoureyes]

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We have an announcement to make! 

The video above explains it all. 

To become a DNSYE Patreon (and get some exclusive benefits) click here: https://www.patreon.com/DNSYEpodcast

[donotscratchyoureyes]

Is He A Scummer Now?

Pretend it's 30th July 2022, the eve of the 2022/23 season. The bleach is dry on the toilet where the remains of the previous season were dumped. We have a nice new, young and progressive manager who is going to be backed come "hell or high water" by the board. There's a lot to look forward to for sure. 

Wherever you are at this time, I fly into view in a DeLorean time machine, and as the gullwing opens I say "by the third week of November Rob Edwards will be managing Luton Town' and then I vanish as quick as I appear. The news I imported upon you would be more shocking than the fact I have a time machine.

Yet, here we are living with this exact reality (not the time machine, the other bit). Our beloved Rob Edwards is now a 'scummer'. Or is he?

There was an enormous fanfare surrounding Edwards appointment, mainly it has to be said from Watford's official communication channels. In a previous piece I mentioned how it felt like too much at the time. "This had better work", we all thought, and until 26th September it seemed to. Then, from out of nowhere the 'Pozzo Push-out-a-tron 5000' fired up and he disappeared faster than a tube of Pringles at a Weight Watchers meeting.

  This caused, understandably, a rather negative reaction from the fans. "But" they cried "you promised to back him come hell or high water!" and before they could open their social media accounts to relay this dismay another announcement was made about his successor. All very unromantic and colder than pecker of a penguin.

The reason we felt Rob's sacking was harsh at the time was that he'd only been given 11 matches. The results were a bit 'meh' but when you buy into a new philosophy you realise these things take time. We'd probably even give him a couple of seasons or so under that premise, wouldn’t we?

A few months and a few decent results later, we find ourselves at the World Cup break fourth in the Championship. Slaven Bilic has now managed more league games than Rob and has to be fair to the guy caused an uptick in our fortunes.

Rob, bless him, ultimately, sits along side a bunch of managers that didn't cut it at Watford. He's milling about with the likes of the second coming of Quique Sanchez Flores and Claudio Ranieri. That sounds harsh but it's reality. He isn't likely to ever have a statue placed outside our ground, no roads will be named after him, he'll never be freeman of Watford Borough.

  Why then do some fans see his next employment as some kind of betrayal? Watford weren't loyal to him, why should he show loyalty to Watford? In fact he probably has every right to stick two very large fingers up at us. Further he is only 39 and the start of his managerial career. He could have decades left as a head coach, and only 11 weeks of that will he be remembered as being at Watford.

  Yes, at first the news was a bit "erm...hang on what?" but personally I hold no grudges towards a young and likeable manager wanting to progress his career further. Obviously if he pulls off a tactical masterstroke on April 1st I will be extremely pissed off and ignoring every piece of post-match media to the fullest extent. But some of the comments I'm seeing on various social media channels are way over the top. He hasn't left us to join them. He's been sacked by us and needs a job. Fair play I say. You need some balls to take over the local rivals to the team you were just in charge of, and, dare I say it, as much as we can't stand the guy, Nathan Jones is going to be a tough act to follow at Kenilworth Road.

  So is he a scummer? Only if they beat us on April Fool's Day and finish above us in the table come the end of the season.

[donotscratchyoureyes]

Derby Days

It’s been 16 years since the last ‘M1 Derby’ with fans in the stadium between Watford and Luton.

The root cause of the rivalry between the clubs is well documented and isn’t a subject I’m going to expand on here. In essence though, it literally comes down to geography. Every football team has a rival and Luton are ours.

These occasions are special. There’s a unique atmosphere in the ground. Every challenge made is magnified, each missed shot on goal bemoaned louder. The singing in the stands is amplified up to 11 and the teasing banter reaches a new level of wit and biting sarcasm.

But, it is important to remember that this is just a game of football. The result will rightly be remembered and used as bragging rights for years to come but it is just a game of football.

What it isn’t is an excuse to be personally offensive, violent or stupid.

There is a contingent of younger fans that won’t have experienced this fixture before. Sure, they will have heard the stories about the 0-4 victory in 1997 and the invasion of our pitch in 2002. They have heard the ‘What Do You Think Of Luton?’ chant in the stands and joined in with it. But do they really HATE Luton? What reason do they have to apart from being indoctrinated into that mindset by older fans. Thankfully they are part of the generation that hasn’t actually seen proper football violence and might assume it’s a bit of harmless fun. Let me dispel that myth for you, it isn’t. Hiding behind an anonymous Twitter account and being a dick to others with little to no consequences is light years away from calling a group of hatters out in real life and facing their ire.

Last time I visited Kenilworth Road was that match in ‘97. Travelling up on club transport the coach was stopped just before the Luton exit on the M1 and we were joined by the local constabulary. ‘Nothing stupid today boys’ was the instruction and we were escorted to the away fans entrance. Post-match we were lucky to escape Bedfordshire with all of the coach windows intact.

Look, this isn’t some kind of ‘hug a hoody’ diatribe here. I’m not handing out virtual incense or beaded necklaces. I’m not suggesting not to ‘be up’ for the match. God knows we need to hear some noise in the stadium at the moment, it’s like a bloody library most matches. Join in with the chanting, celebrate the win and mourn the loss. The rivalry is what makes this fixture special.

But do expect a slap or worse if you insist on taunting rival fans to their face or flaunting your colours post-match. You wouldn’t like it and neither do they. They are as passionate about their team as you are yours. Trigger points diminish fast when faced with (what you have been told) are the enemy.

Be sensible, get behind the team and enjoy the game.

[donotscratchyoureyes]

We’re not singing anymore

Which of the current crop of players do you REALLY care about? If any of them got a transfer to a different team would you be disappointed? Who even is your favourite player at the moment? Tricky isn’t it? You have to really think long and hard about that before answering.

We are living through a period where we don’t even have individual chants for players anymore. We used to raise our voices to sing signature tunes for the likes of Steve Palmer and Clint Easton for goodness sake. And they were really inventive songs too. During the period between 97-00 there were only a few players that DIDN’T actually have their own chant. Micah, Johnno, Stevie Palmer, Tommy Mooney, Ngonge, Ronny Rosenthal…you remember their songs, don’t you?

Why then have we stopped this tradition? Do the current squad have names too difficult to slot into a melody? Well no. If we really wanted to we could find something that fits. Getting Abdoulaye Doucouré into ‘September’ by Earth Wind and Fire would suggest that where there is a will there is a way. If we got really stuck we could adapt ‘Deeney, Deeney’ to become ‘Choudhury, Choudhury’ couldn’t we?

So why have the chants dried up? To my mind it’s to do with there being an extremely low level of connection to the squad. The players are, for want of a better word ‘unloveable’. None of them seem to wear the shirt with any sort of pride. ‘What about Pedro?’ you say. Well, he could be the exception that proves the rule, perhaps. But we haven’t exactly gone out of our way to find a new and exciting chant for him, have we? Simply adapting Odion Ighalo’s version of ‘gold’ isn’t that inventive.

The simple reason we aren’t finding ways to show our vocal appreciation for individual players at the moment is that they aren’t resonating with us. They’re on the pitch in our kit, but they aren’t ‘Watford’. They’re not out there on the pitch putting in 100% for the cause. They’re not hurting when we get our arse handed to us at Bloomfield Road. They’re giving stock soundbites to journalists like ‘we go again’ or ‘we know where we need to improve’ before firing up the Ferrari and heading to the west end for the night.

In my opinion there aren’t any players in the current squad that we would be absolutely devastated about if they got sold in the January window. Indeed there are a few whose departure would be welcomed. That’s not a healthy thing.

At ‘Do Not Scratch Your Eyes’ we are fortunate to be able to talk to former players. We get to relive great matches or famous goals with players that we felt (and still feel) attached to. I feel sorry for whomever is creating the equivalent of our podcast in twenty or thirty years. ‘Joining us today is Isaac Success’. Listeners will be switching off before the first question is even asked (which presumably will be ‘why did your arse spend so much time on the pitch?’)

When we talk to opposition podcasts they all point out Sarr as the player they’re most worried about facing. We then spend ages explaining to them that out of every 90 minutes he looks good for about 3 then spends the remaining 87 looking lost. That’s if he isn’t being taken off on a stretcher only to be miraculously jumping off the physio table when Senegal call him up. It’s only a matter of time before he has the name ‘Lazarus’ printed above the number on his shirt.

We could look to ourselves as fans and ask why we aren’t coming up with chants for players regardless of performance, but that’s not how these things work. Group singing in the stands is usually a reactive measure; the action on the pitch is reciprocated by the supporters, almost instantly. It’s very difficult to launch into an impassioned sing-a-long when the ball is being played slowly between the back four and the keeper.

Things weren’t always ‘better in the old days’ but we managed to be entertained enough to let the players know we appreciated their efforts. Lloyd Doyley was never the most technical or skilled player, but the deafening roar of ‘We’ve got Lloydinho’ when he stuck in a winning tackle was as spontaneous as it was utterly ridiculous. It is unlikely we will be trying to come up with anything for Mario Gaspar any time soon, however.

In summary then we find ourselves being largely silent in the stands at the moment. The chants we do tend to get going are largely generic and old; the ‘Watford Til I Die’ type or as reactions towards another terrible decision by the match officials.

How we long for a couple of players to show…something, anything that fires us up enough to show our vocal appreciation toward them.

[donotscratchyoureyes]

Podcast Mythbusting

This week there have been some unfavourable comment towards the podcasters and fanzines that follow Watford FC, the flavour of which appear to be that anyone who decides to open up an unofficial fan communication channel does it for some kind of higher elevation as a fan or worse still as a side hustle to ensure the family car gets upgraded to a Tesla.

Let’s dispel some myths that surround being a podcaster.

Firstly, our podcast was never intended to be a money making vehicle. How could it be? Our relatively small fanbase was already served by several other fine podcasts. When we started out, COVID was rampant so we weren’t allowed into matches, the football under Ivic was appalling and I spotted a potential gap in the market for a more conversational Watford FC podcast. After lots of dithering and false starts Carl and I decided to give it a go. If we felt after a few episodes that it wasn’t working or we didn’t enjoy it we’d pack it in.

In the two years that have followed, I have personally sunk four figures into our podcast, and have not seen any return thus far. I have had to upgrade my laptop, buy a microphone and a USB mixer, pay for Zoom, hosting platforms and graphic apps etc, etc.

Yes, we got sponsored by Manscaped for a brief period last year, and two of us got a t-shirt, some boxer shorts and a ‘gentleman’s grooming kit’ in exchange for talking about testicle grazing incidents a few times. Yes we have moved over to the Sports Social Network that places adverts on our podcasts but the amount of money per thousand listens is so negligible that in the one payout we have had so far we didn’t earn enough for a single match ticket each. I have had to put the order for an outdoor electric car charger on hold for now.

A typical week will also see us involved in several if not tens of hours of recording; either a combination of the (now) three of us or with other fans or ex-players. Then there is the hosting of post-match Twitter Spaces. Add to this the editing (which takes three times longer than the actual recording) social media posting, chasing guests or other podcasts, etc,

It can, if you let it, take over your life as well as your wallet.

There are nice aspects to it. It’s therapeutic to engage in Twitter Spaces with other fans, especially with recent events being what they’ve been. We do occasionally get bought a beer down The Bunker by listeners, we sometimes get asked to go to Watford related and wider community events. We are on nodding or in some instances first name terms with some former players, legends and the mayor. Our social circles have expanded but we’re not making Elon Musk any richer just yet though.

Carl, Peter and I are just three fans that want to share our experiences of Watford FC with a wider public. If you like what we do (and it appears that quite a few of you do) then thank you very much. We appreciate every nice comment (and beer) that we receive. We don’t consider ourselves different to any other fan that pays for a ticket and watches the matches. We don’t do DNSYE for adulation or financial gain.

We aren’t AFTV (we spent some time with them last year and let me tell you, there are in a different stratosphere to anything that we will ever be), we are Do Not Scratch Your Brand New Tesla, sorry, Eyes.

[donotscratchyoureyes]

A Sailor’s Tale

Many seasons ago I used to be one of those lads that threw balls back to players. It wasn’t a particularly arduous task unless you were placed on the Lower Rous in which case you would have to jump down into the void that existed between the two tiers in those days and take a lucky guess as to where you were throwing the ball back.

This was a role without any pay, but you did get a polystyrene cup of mystery soup at half-time and a programme which you could get signed by both sets of players (and Sir Elton) if you were lucky. If you were unlucky you could get shoved out of the way by an irate Bruce Grobellar or have Brian Clough insist you move the away bench a few inches to the left for no apparent reason. Further anecdotes from this period of my life will be revealed in a forthcoming autobiography ‘What Flavour Is This Soup…Anyone?!’ and any appearances on The Graham Norton Show that follow on from it’s Sunday Times Bestseller success.

It wasn’t just on first team matchdays that our services were required. Oh no. We were there for reserve and ‘junior’ (now known as under-23s) matches. You really haven’t lived until you’ve sat in a puddle for 90 mins on a Tuesday night, watching Jason Drysdale and Barry Ashby stretch in front of your face whilst looking forward to being bollocked the following day for not having done your maths homework. ‘But Miss, I was throwing goal kick balls to Mel Rees last night’ isn’t a reasonable excuse for not being able to calculate the area of a circle as it turns out.

The ballboys were organised by a chap called Arthur and his father-in-law, Percy who was affectionately known as Grandad due to his grandson, Richard, also being a ballboy. Rarely seen without his grey trilby hat on, Grandad used to always have a large white bag of Extra Strong Mints with him that he would offer us as we lined up to clap the teams out. “Keep ya warm that” he’d say as you took one.  

One of the other characters that used to be around at every match was an old boy known to all as ‘Sailor’, who was slightly bent over, always wore a tired old suit and, as I recall, had what I would describe as a country burr when he spoke.

Sailor’s sole job at The Vic was to fly and take down a huge flag from a mast that was positioned in NE corner of the Vicarage Road end.

On 85 minutes he would make a slow walk along the main stand, up the stairs of the Vicarage Road end, lower the flag, fold it neatly and make his way back. This ritual was more obvious at reserve and junior matches as there wasn’t a crowd on the terrace to obscure his work. Being kids we teased him about this errand taking longer to undertake each match but he didn’t seem to mind, a big gummy smile used to spread across his face and he’d put the flag away for another day.

Fast forward a few decades, I wasn’t prepared for how strangely moved I felt upon seeing it in all its glory at the 100 Years At The Vic exhibition at Watford Museum last week. Whilst others were oohing and ahhing over bricks and The Observer clock, it was this large piece of yellow cloth that brought back the strongest memories for me. When I took a picture of it and sent it to my brother who was also a ballboy with the text ‘Sailor’s Flag’ he replied ‘Awesome. Fond memories of that’. It probably seems peculiar that something as seemingly innocuous as a flag can bring back ‘fond memories’ unless you also remember the person and the ritual behind it.

On a recent podcast with the curators of the exhibition, I was asked if I knew why Sailor was known by his nickname. I assumed that as a man of a certain age he had served in the navy. This however is not the case. It turns out he was left at an orphanage in a sailor suit as a baby. You have to love the fans of our club for knowing (and passing on) things like that.

So when it comes to writing my book, chapter three (which will be titled ‘Can’t I stand down The Rookery tonight, Arthur - it’s raining’) I’ll talk about Sailor and his flag, and how it’s one of my strongest memories of being a ballboy. That and when one of the Janaway brothers patted and then whistled loudly into one of the long shaggy microphones they put out on the side of the pitch for televised matches. It was cruelly amusing to see a technician tear off a pair of headphones whilst swearing loudly.

[donotscratchyoureyes]

Here Comes The New Season

Well. It’s almost upon us. The 2022-23 season.

Are you excited yet? Well you should be and here’s why.

Last season we were punching above our weight before we even kicked a ball. We were in a league that frankly we weren’t even remotely prepared to compete in. We had an inexperienced manager in charge, players transferred in that frankly didn’t give toss for Watford FC and a gap the size of The Grand Canyon between club and supporters. 

When it became clear that Munoz wasn’t the man to take us forward we hired two highly experienced but ultimately badly appointed septuagenarian managers; one of which will probably go down as one of our worst ever due to the painful football he served up and his poisonous relationship with the fans. 

We had a goalkeeper making videos that angered supporters, a captain that couldn’t lead a sing-a-long, a left back that looked so unfit we were genuinely concerned for his health, a defence that had more leaks than a wicker canoe (leading to fewer clean sheets than a hotel’s laundry basket)...the list and the metaphors just go on and on. 

Then there are the cold hard statistics: 15 home defeats; played 38, lost 27, minus 43 goal difference and 23 points; 17 miserable goals at home all season...

Can the forthcoming season be any worse than THAT?! It’s pretty hard to imagine so. Only The Vic crumbling away before our very eyes could top that list of calamities. 

Of course, any football fan wants to see their team playing in the Premier League. It’s exciting to see your players compete against the best footballers in the world. But, and here is the rub, how many Watford players last season felt like ours? Did you REALLY complain when King, Kucka, Sissoko et al left during the summer? No, you didn’t, and you won’t be seeing any of that lot coming on during the inaudible ‘legends’ slot at half-time this century either. There will be a lot of shirts purchased in August 2021 with players names on the back of them that are unlikely to ever see the light of day again. 

If playing in the top flight means having to endure any of the above then I’ll happily watch Championship football, thanks (although obviously the aim is to fight to get back into the Prem ASAP - funny old world, innit?). 

Whatever happens, this forthcoming season CAN NOT possibly be any worse than the previous one. Get your scarves, get to The Vic and let’s enjoy the fresh start from Monday. COYH! 

.