I have my standards you know May 4, 2008

The last game of the season, my boyhood team Watford beside the sea at Blackpool. Something at stake for both of them. Weather forecast poor. Drive to The Tower poor : multi-car shunts, football fans confused with day trippers, in the driving rain or drizzle. This can be England for you.

The ground two-sided – the two ‘new’ stands already rusting, beside the sea. The tangerine seats faded. The huge area next to the club shop boarded-up (Closed? Never-been-opened?). The one end of the ground a skip. The Away side with temporary seating, no roof, rain.

Then the football. Not even football – the worst kind. No passing, no grace, no beauty, no tackling, nothing. Just shunting and a team trying to muscle their way to goal : should be laying rugby. Blame Watford.

Man-on-the-microphone comes on at half time (It’s A Knockout’s Stuart Hall no less) to lift the spirits : a £25k lucky draw. The contestants pin their hopes. The hysterical lottery winner screams what-sounds-like-obscenities to the sound of a pin drop. The man with the mike grabs it back and points it out that her father died 2 weeks before and she was in fact overjoyed and emotional – her Dad having bought the ticket.

More terrible football in prospect. Time to leave.