It’s been a week for all kinds of reflection, not just about lockdown – what we’ve lost, or gained, or had to re-evaluate – but also about the integrity of football. Back in October, when I reached out to Watford FC for help, they did not disappoint. They were there to support me, when I most needed it, showing a debt of gratitude for my support over the years. I’ve had plenty of cause to reflect upon this most positive of interactions with my club, more of which later in the post. Much to consider then.

Tuesday this week marked the one-year anniversary of going into lockdown. It’s been an unprecedented year, an awful one by all accounts. It’s robbed us of all the everyday things in life we take for granted: family, work, school, hugs, pubs, football. Many have lost loved ones, their livelihoods, their reasons for living. We have all led constrained lives, some broken by the emptiness of endless days on their own, others broken by physical and mental fatigue on the front line of the fight against the pandemic.

When football returned in June 2020, it was controversial. Despite a ban on crowds, and rigorous testing, many footballers and managers believed a return to action was reckless, compromising the safety of players and staff. The rest of us understood that it was most likely sanctioned because of the huge sums of money involved. It was certainly a bit of both. The decision to finish the season behind closed doors was manner from heaven for Liverpool fans, celebrating their first league title in 30 years – agony for Watford fans, whose players came back, but not as a team, and conspired to prize open the relegation trapdoor and jump right in.

The cessation of football was a small fly in the ointment, but reminded all of us fans how much we were invested in the game. How truly valuable it was when, suddenly, unthinkably, it could be taken away. Those used to the regular matchday experience, a social occasion to bookmark their week, felt it in sharpest relief, no doubt, but we all mourned its temporary departure, and then its tinny, hollow re-birth in empty, lifeless stadiums.*

In the wider context of the pandemic, football has become a welcome distraction, and a slice of normality, even if it is a surreal one. No-one is saying football has all the answers, but it does, undeniably, glue a lot of people together in meaningful ways. And it is meaning we all need right now.

In the past few days some clubs have rightly come under the spotlight for the parts they played in allowing abuse to go unchecked in their youth set-ups. Football’s Darkest Secrets has been airing this week, with heart-rending testimony from those footballers who were systematically groomed and abused by their coaches as youngsters. I’m staggered by the bravery these talented men have shown by telling their horrific stories, and the weight of the psychological scars they bear.

At age 11 I would have given my right arm to be taken in by a club’s youth system. These young lads were clutching onto a dream to be professional footballers, and many went on to fulfil those dreams of playing. But the price they paid was enormous. Instead of joy and happiness, they felt guilt and shame. Instead of the support of family, friends and the judicial system, many were to suffer in silence, or find the world, and the footballing family, didn’t really care.

No, football most certainly does not have all the answers, and it shamefully failed to protect its youngsters from these monsters. I am hopeful with the right safeguarding measures in place nothing like this will ever happen again in youth football. But we mustn’t let the actions of a few evil men taint the wonderful game itself.

Football is generally a force for good. Players can reach across the divide and connect with the fanbase. Clubs can help their communities. I’m proud that Watford is just such a club.

From a personal perspective, one of the things that has kept me going during lockdown has been the return of football. In 2020 I lost loved ones, my job, and during long spells, my mojo. There’s only so many PE with Joes you can do before even Captain Serotonin wants out.

Then from out of nowhere, my 4 year-old son’s Leukaemia diagnosis in September. As all parents of poorly children know, you become a bit of an expert in the condition they’re facing, because you want to arm yourself with knowledge. You throw yourself in, do anything you can. We’ve been wonderfully supported during a difficult time, but it’s hard to watch a child suffer, and keep a positive outlook when there’s so much uncertainty. The pandemic has not helped, keeping us apart from each other, an extra layer of complication.

I’m only writing about this because I want to put on record the massive positive impact a football team and its players can have. They are not all self-obsessed, vastly overpaid prima donnas. They are people like you and me, with families, and conflicting priorities, many living away from their home countries, with multiple challenges to their physical and mental well-being. Many are just teenagers who are, as we have seen, vulnerable to all kinds of influence. They are human beings, like us.

During a particularly dark week in October, I reached out to Watford FC to ask if they could help lift the spirits of a poorly young hornet, and received the lifeline of a video message from goalkeeper Ben Foster telling my lad to keep strong, and keep going. The club that I cared so much for, and had invested so much in, were there for me and my family in our moment of need. We eventually sent a little thank you message back to Fozzy via the club, but I’d like to stick it on the record again and say what a true gentleman of the game he is.

But I’m far from being an isolated case. Off the pitch Watford responded to the pandemic by reaching out to its most vulnerable supporters with the Hornets at Home scheme, now a permanent fixture. During lockdown more than 300 supporters volunteered their services – collecting and delivering groceries, mowing lawns etc – and more than 2,500 supporters received a call from the club to offer support. Watford FC has committed to providing ongoing additional support for elderly and isolated supporters, those who suffer with mental health problems, and families of bereaved supporters.

It’s no wonder I feel a stronger sense of connection with my club than I ever have done, for all the myriad reasons given above. There’s genuine cause for optimism in 2021, with the vaccine roll-out in full flow. And perhaps there’ll be a Watford promotion to cheer, and the tantalising possibility of bringing my boy to watch his first ever competitive game at the Vic. I feel sustained by these hopes, and this is why football really can be a power for good in these most difficult of times.

* Lockdown football is a bit like the habitual lot of the long-distance supporter. Us perpetual away-from-homers have always relied almost exclusively on radio commentary or the odd televised game to maintain a connection with our club. If we’re lucky we get to top-up on a real matchday experience every now and then, the memories of which can sustain our love for our clubs for months, even years at a time, but the norm is being one step removed from the action.

The coronavirus pandemic has made our marginalised experience a universal one. The remote fan has no less intense a desire to see their team perform well, even if it is geographically a challenging one. But not having fans in the stadiums reduces the enjoyment for all fans, banished as we are from witnessing or partaking in the vital interaction between players and fans. From the coal-face of the terraces, there’s no hiding place from praise or scorn alike.

The irony is, I have felt a closer connection to Watford during lockdown. I feel more invested than ever. Somehow, during this time when nothing else matters except the things that really matter, I’ve found my connection to Watford FC coming into sharp focus. A massive part of this is how inter-connected we all are by technology and social media.

Thanks to the excellent Hive Live, supporters can now watch most games, or listen, whenever they want, rather than being at the mercy of schedulers, or broadcast contracts which meant, amongst other annoyances, I could never listen to League Cup ties on BBC Three Counties digital radio.

The lads on the From The Rookery End podcast have become like a counselling session for me. I’m embarrassed by how often I refresh my podcast app to get the next instalment, even if I just need them to voice all the things I’m thinking. These fellas are obviously just as hooked as I am, and are unashamedly wearing their hearts on their sleeves. I feel, on a deep golden level, to be one of them. One of many thousands all being ground through the same delicious, turbulent mill.