Fan Stories: Huddersfield Town Away

In the first of our new series, Hornets fan Doug McCaffery recalls an angry Terriers fan after Watford’s 2-1 win at the John Smith’s Stadium

I enjoy our away games at Huddersfield Town. Living on the outskirts of Leeds, I can get to the ground with little fuss and expenditure on the train. They can also be relied upon not to take the proverbial with the price of admission. A lesson their neighbours at Elland Road could take note of.

Our game in October started as a bitty affair. Neither team wanted to do much of that football malarky until, inevitably, Town scored. Cue scenes in the home end. Unsurprising given Watford had beaten Town home and away the season above.

However, the lovely post-goal warmth that follows the explosion of joy at your team scoring was short lived. The Huddersfield Town fans were just lighting up their cigarettes and eyeing the bedroom door meaningfully when Fernando Forestieri capped a fine Watford move by curling past Alex Smithies.

Fessi just loves playing Huddersfield Town, which is saying something about a man that pretty much exudes glee in all cirsumstances. Seriously, have you ever seen him tweet about going to Tescos? Unbridled, childlike joy. In the three games he has played against them he has two goals and two assists. This has helped him become about as welcome as an unexpected letter from the tax man in certain corners of West Yorkshire.

In the end, Fessi was in one of his unplayable moods and tormented the Huddersfield back line before Danny Pudil stuck away the winner just before the half. We had chances to extend our lead but managed to walk out 2-1 winners. Job done. Happy Hornets.

I was making my way back up the hill from the John Smith’s Stadium when a Town fan decided to remonstrate with me about our Fessi. A large man, with no discernible neck, ploughed his way through the thronging crowds upon spotting the yellow of my shirt. Knuckling himself alongside me, he matched my pace and growled at me.

“That Foresterry is a cheating Flump.”

It is worth noting at this stage I am substituting some of the more colourful language used for famous British confectionaries. Vital Watford does not endorse any of the products mentioned in this story.

“The ref didn’t think so.” I replied, keeping my tone friendly and calm.

“Give over! The little Wagonwheel spent most of t’game on his Twixing backside!”

“He still managed to score though, eh?” I snapped back.

No-neck bristled at this. It is entirely possible that he’d forgotten the result in the four minute walk from the stadium. Reminding him was looking like a bad idea. He was big, angry and had a white rose tattoo on his neck that told me he liked a scrap. I watched him turn crimson, fully expecting him to swing for me. Instead, he decided to try and wind me up some more.

“Caramac me! Did I ever laugh at your playoff game! Best Snickering goal I’ve ever seen from Phillips. Boost you, Bourbon Foresterry and Bounty your team of foreigners!”

Upon finishing his tirade, No-neck ploughed through the crowd and away down a side street. There was an embarrassed silence as everyone within earshot relaxed now that he’d gone. I walked on for a few moments before another Town fan caught my eye.

“Ignore that idiot, lad. He’s just looking for a rise out of someone. That Forestieri looked a bit lightweight during last year’s game and, you have to admit, took a fair few tumbles. Looks like somebody’s had a word with him though. None of that today.”

I agreed with guy and asked him what he thought of Jonathan Hogg. The rest of my walk to the station was a pleasant one, chatting to a more typical example of an affable Yorkshireman about our teams and our chances.

In the end, we agreed that our teams could have a decent chance at the playoffs. Shows what a right pair of Walnut Whips we were.

– Doug McCaffrey (@semtexsports)

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