It’s often wise to expect the unexpected. Take last week, when my wife went out to buy her Dad’s birthday cake and came back with two Russian Dwarf Hamsters. Didn’t see that coming. Yesterday evening’s game pitched the best home record against the worst away one, so by all accounts this was a home-win banker. For those who used to do the pools, or enjoy accumulator bets on the footy, we know very well there is no such thing. You may well successfully predict the outcomes of many matches, but there’s always one result that scuppers your pay out. Who could possibly have foreseen Watford ending Liverpool’s unbeaten run back in February 2020? For that matter, who thought Huddersfield would run out 4-1 winners against Swansea a few matches back?

So, being a bit wise to this kind of thing happening, I did entertain the possibility of a shock result in yesterday’s match. The bottom club in the league could smash and grab three points at our place. Their recent form had certainly improved – of the 9 points they had garnered away from home, 4 of these had come in the last two matches – plus they had recently beaten play-off contenders Reading. Throw in our insipid performance in the reverse fixture (where we were lucky to land a point in a 1-1 duffing-up), plus our loss of two class acts in the suspended duo of Chalobah and Pedro, and the wise-headed may be tempted to incline their heads knowingly, a touch. An ex-Watford striker in Uche Ikpeazu, whose career with the Hornets spanned three years and six loans, but precisely no minutes on the pitch in a yellow shirt, might want to prove his doubters wrong. Especially with matches running out, and stakes increasing. After this game, only a dozen more to go. Zero wriggle room.

Home schooling has been a joy this last year, but its privilege is wearing a little thin now. Still, I continue to learn a thing or two. My lad’s Reception-year phonics homework focused on the trigraph – a sound consisting of three letters – ure. This trigraph – do keep up – is pronounced your, as in Midge, lead singer of Ultravox back in the last century. (I wonder if Midge and Reg, of Elton John fame, ever recorded together? A pairing to give Chas and Dave a run for their money, eponymously speaking). It’s tricky enough for a 47 year-old to say sure it’s pure, or lure, let alone a 4 year-old. But the testiest two words he had to identify were secure and manure. As I mouthed these words to my son just hours before kick-off, I wondered which one it was going to be tonight.

As it happened, things did go to form, and we were not obliged to land ungraciously in any pile of animal waste. As for being sure of the three points, I didn’t get that feeling of security until the clock ticked over the 90. For once, the final five minutes of extra time were not noticeably reducing my life expectancy by hardening the arteries.

I expect a lot of words will be written between clenched fingers about the man who scored both of Watford’s goals tonight. Andre Gray has been a divisive figure, both on and off the pitch, guilty primarily in fan’s minds for not justifying the then record pay-out of £18million to Burnley as a replacement for Ighalo. His recent off-the-field misdemeanours and senior moments have been well-documented, and I don’t think it is worth thinking any more about them. In my mind, Gray has always been fully committed when his boots are laced, and for many reasons, his chances to get a good run in the team, and therefore the confidence he so clearly needs, have been in short supply. For most of his time at the club, we have played with a lone striker, so he has been restricted to cameos off the bench or chances to impress in cup games in a weakened eleven.

I am chuffed for Andre that he grabbed two crisply finished chances tonight, albeit relatively easy opportunities. And for Xisco too, who has not simply sidelined a high-earning, low-performing player, but has decided, almost certainly on merit, and hard work put in on the training ground, to give him game time. Andre has been given ample support by the club, and tonight was another shot at redemption. By the way his team-mates celebrated with him, he is a fully accepted member of the squad with an important part to play in the run-in. It can only be good for us that we have another striker scoring goals.

Three changes were made to the team which started against Bournemouth, two enforced. Gray’s inclusion, given his goals, was entirely vindicated, although I was disappointed, if truth be told, not to see Perica lining up instead. Gray, regardless of his on-field commitment, represents the dying embers of a now failed Premiership Watford, and along with the PR baggage he brings, the potential to disrupt. Perica, with fewer minutes even than Gray this season due to suspensions and injuries, represents the new Watford we all want to see rise from the ashes. In truth, as a club in transition, we’ll need to rely on both for now.

Cathcart was rested for a returning Troost-Ekong at the back, with Zinckernagel preferred in the vacant midfield role, rather than Dan Gosling, who was missing altogether. If anyone needed a chance to prove their credentials, it was the Dane, whose assist and scoring stats in the Norwegian league had us drooling over our cornflakes back in early January, but whose inability until tonight to make the starting line-up had left us eating our soggy ties. Xisco implored those given a chance tonight to make the most of it, and I’m pleased to say they did.

I watched the match on the Sky red button again, all static camera, poor visuals, flat commentary and no replays. In many ways it is closer to the real thing, replicating as it does viewing the match from a single vantage point in the stadium, through blurry short-sighted eyes, with punditry provided by random spectators nearby who know about as much as I do, but state it more authoritatively. And when something pivotal happens, you can’t see it again. So I apologise in advance if some of my recollections are crooked.

Apropos of missing key things in games, I will digress briefly. When I went to our FA Cup 6^th round match against the then holders Arsenal back in 2016, a match we won, miraculously, 2-1, I mistook the identity of our winning goal scorer completely. The thunderbolt from Adlene Guedioura, after a perfectly judged roll-back from Deeney, literally tore a hole in the space-time continuum, so fast had it been hit. I believe I thought it was Capoue, probably because the bloke I was hugging shortly thereafter did too. Anyway, I was quite surprised to find out otherwise listening to the radio on the (simply delicious) tube journey home.

Before kick-off this evening, a tribute to former Hornet Glenn Roeder, who passed away this week aged 65. Both teams applauded warmly around the centre-circle, for a true footballing gent the news of whose passing was sadly received. Following this, the now familiar taking of the knee, which once a thing to inspire solidarity, now seems to have taken on an unforeseen divisiveness. All players took it this evening, leading to my son’s jolly question: “Who are we praying to before this match?”. Well, whichever deity will promise us three points son, not fussed.

Wycombe Wanderers, in their red and white quarters, looked more association rugby than soccer, with some large leading names in their ranks, the largest of which, Akinfenwa, was testing out the capacity of our away benches. I can’t help but like Wycombe, and I wish them every success in their attempt to escape relegation. Gareth Ainsworth looks like a thoroughly decent human being fighting against the odds, his laid-back appearance and long wavy hair missing from some biker pub lock-in. Unlike his bonnet-doppelganger, Brentford manager Thomas Frank, he doesn’t seem to have an uptight, antsy bone in his body.

We take charge from the off, as both teams settle into their roles of possessor and dispossessed, with Watford’s superiority somehow a shared, established mindset. Zinckernagel and Sema are linking up on the left, Cleverley, Kiko and Sarr making triangles on the right. Hughes, like a vacuum cleaner, sucking up every bit of lost possession. The only touch of sloppiness comes from Masina, who gives away the ball in the eighth minute, leading to a badly timed Zinckernagel tackle, and a Chairboys’ free-kick at the edge of our area.

Wycombe’s captain, and number 3, Joe Jacobsen, clearly has a good set-piece delivery, and is their most dangerous player. He blasts this effort off Sierralta behind for a corner, from which a subsequent strike following a team-mate’s blocked effort, sails harmlessly over the bar. The juxtaposition between our left-back and theirs didn’t put Masina in the best of lights – there have been some ponderous elements to his play in recent games.

We are defrosting into the game, rather than burning the house down. Our intensity seems to be caged until we unlock the Wycombe defence in the 14^th minute. In a mini spell of concerted pressure, following crosses from Sema, Sarr and Zinckernagel, a fast move involving Cleverley and Sarr puts Kiko in another crossing position from which he expertly feeds the onrushing Gray. His finish from two yards out is emphatic. As if a demon has been shrugged off, Gray sprints furiously and snaps into a high-press challenge immediately from the re-start.

Suddenly there are gaps everywhere, and Cleverley’s shot from outside the area on 16 minutes deflects away for a corner. With our throttle finally engaged, we are purring, with any splutters masterfully mopped up by Hughes. On one occasion where he engages, wins and waltzes away from trouble, I can’t help waxing lyrical to myself about how cultured he is, to which my son adds, wisely, “Oh, he’s so grown up, isn’t he?” Yes, yes, yes, he is.

Zinckernagel, contrary to my expectations, looks assured, nippy, and progressive. When he’s not thrown in at the deep end with the team clinging on to a one-goal lead, he looks much the better for it. Let others put out fires, give this boy the matches. He is bright, with great control, and although we lose some of Chalobah’s physicality, Zinckernagel has a livelier approach, with twinkle-toe feet, and tonight his passes were well measured. I am delighted to be put firmly in my place about his suitability to wear the shirt.

In the 23^rd minute, Sarr backheels to Kiko, who nearly plays Gray in again. A few minutes later, Sarr goes down after a blistering foot-race only he was winning, but penalty appeals are waved away. Masina heads tamely back across goal to no-one in particular when presented with a chance to score, and then a fine team effort started by Zinckernagel, with Sarr inevitably involved, leads to a Gray shot blocked, and then a must-score rebound that Stockdale does well to save when Sema looked odds on to double our lead. Sierralta at one point strolls all the way forward unimpeded to the edge of the Wycombe box – there doesn’t appear to be much appetite for closing us down.

Wycombe flare up dangerously every now and then from set pieces. A long throw is allowed to bounce in our box on 24 minutes, and Horgan finds space to cross from the left flank on 30 minutes. Troost-Ekong is very vocal and sure-footed, blocking and marshalling competently. Switching off against any team would be foolish – Wycombe managed to hit two past Brentford before the Bees stung back maliciously with seven of their own earlier in the season.

In fact, those five goals are the difference between Watford and Brentford in the fight for second place at the moment, separated as we are by goal difference – we really should be making our chances count for more. With better execution of the final ball we would have been more than a single goal to the good. Nothing is going to feel secure, until we score a second. Our 70% possession has yielded a single shot on target.

The faintest whiff of manuresque humiliation is whipped up inside the first minute of the second half as David Wheeler sticks the ball in our net from a long, hoisted free-kick into our box. Bachmann is hurt, but recovers. More importantly, Wheeler is adjudged to be offside, but we only just side-stepped that one. And Wycombe are mustering themselves a bit. I can’t help thinking that with the guile of Kashket residing on the bench, there is a more potent off-the-shelf Wycombe ready to deploy if it’s still 1-0 in the latter stages. We’d better get a move on.

Ismaila Sarr is involved in virtually everything we do. In the 54^th minute, he juggles the ball beautifully from a throw-in but delivers a poor cross. But in the 57^th minute, latching on to another Kiko pass on the right wing, he elects not to cross but to pass back to the central figure of Zinckernagel. His vision, and weight of pass, Messi-esque perhaps, cuts through the defense and leaves Gray with a simple job of converting under the onrushing keeper, again from a few yards out. Simple, exquisite football. The goal comes at the perfect time with Wycombe just beginning to grow in confidence.

Sarr’s ubiquitous involvement is inadvertently making a rod for his own back, in that inevitably a lot of things he does come frustratingly to nothing. This was a 4 or 5-nil home win for the taking, for the want of better decision-making in the final third. As Sarr is so frequently the player who must make that decision, the spotlight falls, a little unfairly I admit, on him. In the last quarter of this game, Sarr wastes a plethora of promising situations. His crosses go straight to Stockdale, or the opposition defence, through balls get cut out, and his focus seems to wane.

In the 78^th minute he is more or less ambling around in a central position, wandering, unsure what to try next, not probing or looking for a give-and-go anymore – weaponry at walking-pace. He lets fly a poor effort from distance as if he can’t really be bothered to try anything else, an air of being immune from criticism. The crowd would certainly have let him know their feelings about this wastefulness with a reverberating groan around the Vic. But it wouldn’t have been long-lived, the drums and cheers would have quickly risen again.

Our habit of scoring early in a half is useful – the count, according to our colleagues at Sky, is 22 goals for and only 4 against in the first 15 mins of either half. As such, Wycombe were never in this game, even if the paranoid fan’s viewpoint wisely suggests anything could have happened. My pulse quickened on a couple of occasions. Right-back Grimmer was tripped up just outside the box in the 65^th minute, the free-kick headed dangerously back across our goal from Tafazolli. 10 minutes later the tree-like Ikpeazu was tackled in the box by a succession of players and was eventually felled, but not illegally according to the officials. Akinfenwa’s introduction saw a headed half-chance, if that, from a Kashket cross. In extra time Bachmann collided with an offside Wycombe forward, bringing no penalty. Wycombe threw the kitchen plug at us, and it bounced off.

We’ll have to wait and see if Cleverley was injured in a tackle by Thompson with 10 minutes to play – he was subbed almost immediately for Wilmot. If so, that could be season-defining. Hungbo had a few promising minutes when he came on for Sema, emitting plenty of hunger and youthful desire. Perica once again had to make do with a snatch of game time which gave him no opportunity to impress. Success was named on the bench, and one can only hope he one day delivers on all that promise so richly suggested by his name. And Pochettino’s son on the bench, too, with a name to live up to – this time that of his father, the current manager of Paris St Germain no less. Somewhere in WD18 Dennis Bergkamp’s son is also plying his trade, no doubt trying to outstep a sizeable shadow.

I’ll save the last word for my lucky shirt. I first wore it for the home win against Norwich. Only once now have we not won when I’ve donned it for a game – the respectable enough 0-0 with Millwall. I was not wearing it for either the 1-2 home reverse to QPR, or the insanely depressing 0-0 with Coventry, the only match of football I can remember which compelled me to throw something at the telly. For those of a superstitious persuasion, I will make sure to be wearing the lucky shirt come Saturday’s lunchtime encounter with Forest. But I’m afraid a shirt that may purport to prevent losses just won’t cut the mustard if we want automatic promotion. We’ll need wins against ambitious opponents, and for that, we’ll need to play a whole lot better than tonight.

Watch the highlights here.