Something that still brings out the kid in me is the excitement of getting close to one of the players. The opportunity of speaking to them or just seeing them somewhere unexpected is enough to put me in a good mood for the rest of the week.
So I was more than delighted, upon my arrival at Clarence Park, to spot Kenny Jackett queuing up to get in. As ever, when you spot someone that you know but don't actually know, you have that slight doubt, what if its not them? You don't want to look a complete idiot by saying "Hello Kenny", and the person says "Actually I'm Terry". I looked around for other signs of recognition from my fellow queuers but they were all teenagers and none seem to be interested to be sharing the same line as a Watford legend, or even the Millwall manager.
He walked in and stood on the terrace opposite the main stand. I followed a short distance behind, still being unsure, but also rehearsing what to say if I got the great man's attention. Do I tell him that I used to have a keyring with his picture on it when I was small? No, that sounds too stalker-ish. Do I ask who he is watching? No, he might think I'm a journo. Do I say I met him once at an open day underneath the scoreboard? No, he's unlikely to remember.
So I go with "Alright Kenny", to which he replies "Alright Mate". And that's it. But it made my night, possibly my whole week. I've told everyone who it will mean something to and quite a few who it won't, and now I'm telling you. Kenny Jackett. Cool name, top bloke, Watford legend.
I decided it wasn't good form to then stand near him and hover like some groupie so I made my way round to the main stand. The stand is a gem of old football architecture. It looks like the kind of pavilion you find in immaculate gardens in seaside towns. It dates from 1922 (I'm no expert, I looked that up) and whilst most of the old seating has been replaced with plastic tip ups, at the back the old wooden benches remain, which is where I sat now. It has to be said that the view it gives you is complete rubbish. There were about 8 pillars and posts in my view but I'd had a long day, it was the only place to sit and the leg room was very generous.
The 'developmental' team was partly familiar. Jure Travner was included along with JJOT and Lewis Young in midfield, Liam Henderson and Will Hoskins in attack.
For the first time this season the game went as you would expect it to against a non league side. The first half we dominated but they lived with us and just about deserved the 0-0 scoreline. In fact they nearly went in 1-0 up after Eddie Oshodi almost scored a spectacular own goal as he tackled the St.Albans centre forward but facing the goal. The ball flew over North and looked like it was going in but just went the wrong side of the crossbar. We had several chances ourselves but our shooting was fairly wayward.
In the second half we exerted our authority and got what we deserved with Will Hoskins scoring two almost identical goals beating the keeper at close range within ten minutes of the restart.
There was then some lengthy dispute as the ref didn't allow one of the St.Albans subs on for a long while for reasons that weren't clear. For a good ten minutes we were yet again playing against ten men. Eventually it got sorted out, but all seemed very petty and it looked as if even David Kerslake got involved protesting that he'd rather be facing 11 than 10.
Then the rain fell as if someone had put a power shower on maximum soak. To their credit it had little effect on the players who still treated us to a decent display as if they were trying to outdo the elements for entertainment. Jordan Parkes got on the score sheet twice in the last 20 minutes with two low well drilled shots before a St.Albans player scored the most impressive goal of the night catching North off his line and lobbing the ball over him.
In the stand the old drains couldn't cope with the conditions at all and several waterfalls appeared obscuring the view even more. However the pitch still looked like the carpet it had been at the beginning. There were no obvious puddles. The ball didn't get stuck. I doubt ours would've coped as well.
At the final whistle the players dashed in rather than warming down. Alas, the fans couldn't do the same and after hanging about as long as the stewards would put up with us, we had to venture out into the rivers that had formed around the ground. I have never got so wet leaving a football ground. I felt like I'd been swimming. But it was worth it all to see Kenny Jackett
