I hate a sporting anti-climax. I was there to witness Sheffield Wednesday’s equaliser from the Rookery End on the last day of the 2014/15 season that denied us the cherry of being champions on the promotion cake. We’d still made it to the Premier League, but not as Championship table-toppers, thanks to an injury-time equaliser. Instead of us parading the winner’s trophy around the Vic, Bournemouth got all the pleasure with a (fittingly) replica cup.

That moment should have been ours. Wednesday had only three shots that whole game, but still managed to burst our bubble because we just weren’t clinical enough on the day. We’d already achieved the main aim of promotion after the Brighton game, so I suppose going for the jugular, and the title of Champions, was just an added extra. And so we were pipped by those spoilers on the south coast.

Saturday’s game at home to Wednesday bore many similarities in my mind. A summery affair in the sunshine, towards the end of a long, hopeful and yet arduous season. Back then a crowd not really engaged in the game, just waiting for the off-pitch celebrations afterwards which ended up a tad subdued. Now, no crowd at all, supporters physically removed, not just mentally, with much the same stultifying effect.

After the long international break, a lethargic spell seemed to settle over this match. In 2015 we were a little off our game but it was already job done, and the squad were probably nursing some sore and distracted heads. This weekend, far from job done, but a win would put us nine points clear in second. Now widely regarded by the sporting media as the team who will go up with Norwich, it feels like promotion is only ours to lose. Confidence is all well and good, but playing any less than 100% in this league and you’ll get punished. The memories of that Wednesday equaliser in May 2015 were never far from my mind as this game wore on. We should win. We should get promoted. We are the better team. But… maybe the owls were going to taint the narrative again?

Dropping points would not have been a disaster, just as finishing runners-up made no difference to our first season back in the Premier League. However, a victory would be more than just three points now, in the context of the season. Coming back after a break can alter courses, and destroy momentum. Might we come back all sticky and nervous, or completely unrecognisable? One only has to remember our return to play after the first lockdown – we were a shadow of the team that had steam-rolled Liverpool in February.

A win here would stretch our points distance to a disheartening degree for Swansea and Brentford, both of whom would have time to digest our performance before running out for their own games. Lose here, and you can imagine our rivals invigorated. Win, and they would tighten up with fear and pressure. A huge advantage for us to kick-off first and lay down a marker then.

This one really was less about the game, and more about the moment, the opportunity. Just as well, because the game itself will not live long in the memory. It was to be a sluggish performance, but we did not fluff our lines this time. You could say we seized this one, without ever grasping it.

The game was not entirely without note. Ismaila Sarr returned after injury, bookmarked by Pedro hobbling off at the end. Zinckernagel, too, was restored to the side, and Chalobah handed the armband again. With Sema rested after mid-week involvement with Sweden, Success was the beneficiary, Xisco giving the Nigerian another chance to live up to his moniker, putting him in the central striking role and nudging Pedro out left.

Wednesday were relegated from the top flight with us back in 2000 – and have not returned since. Now they languish in the bottom three, perilously close to relegation, a six-point deduction no excuse for what would anyway be judged an abysmal season. A new coach in Darren Moore has lent them a recent bit of steel, usually reserved for the red side of Sheffield. He was not in attendance because of a late positive coronavirus test, and his absence from the touchline was a blow for them. Would they be scrapping for their lives, snapping into us and trying to hurt us? Not really, as it turned out. Both teams with so much at stake, curiously flat.

The only goal of the game came early, and not without contention. Was Sarr offside in the 7th minute when he received, and beautifully controlled, Masina’s raking diagonal pass? Was Success interfering with play as he ran in behind Tom Lees towards Sarr’s whipped delivery? The defender certainly thought so, arguing that he would not have had to intercept the cross, and thereby inadvertently send it into his own net, if it wasn’t for the clearly offside presence of the striker coming in behind.

The goal was flagged off by the linesman, only to be overruled by the ref. Indecision and confusion by officials just adds fuel to the fire of any potential complaint. And complain they did, after the incident, at half-time, and they’re probably still at it. Nevertheless, it was the deciding moment of the match. And there was to be no sucker punch this time around.

If Wednesday want to focus on one moment, it should be Jordon Rhodes’ chance in the 65^th minute. The looping ball into our box was nudged on by Sierralta and landed at the prolific striker’s feet 8 yards out. As you would expect from such an accomplished poacher, he struck first time, but the ball sailed over the bar. It took a few moments to process why the net hadn’t bulged. Thank goodness for that most rusty of finishes from usually trusty boots.

Barry Bannan orchestrated most of Wednesday’s play, their most influential player by a country mile. His deliveries from set pieces were a menace, and his eye for a quick forward pass constantly unnerving as we retreated into our shell, especially in the second half. Just before a dangerous free-kick on the edge of our box, conceded after a foul on Bannan, he had to jettison one of his boots. Instead of changing both, he quickly put a new one on and headed back on the pitch with a mis-matched pair.

When you’re looking for omens, and portents, their best player suddenly sporting odd boots is alarming. Here we go, I thought. I’m going to remember this trivial bit of wardrobe malfunction forever now, because he’s about to lash this one into the top-corner, and from that loose thread our whole season will unravel. Fortunately, he lashed it into the wall, and odd boots will not become the stuff of unwanted flashbacks.

Hughes was making his 100^th league appearance for the hornets. With him in the team, disrupting, shielding and forging, we should have the necessary grit and vision to keep our poker face straight. He picked up a customary yellow card, tugging back Josh Windass with half an hour to play, but saw out the 90. The game was always in the balance, so withdrawing Hughes would have been too great a gamble.

The match would have been well beyond Wednesday, had Success been more clinical – but it’s just not happening for him in a yellow shirt. In the 23^rd minute Zinckernagel played a ball to his feet, after good approach play from Pedro, but instead of shooting first time, or squaring to an unmarked Chalobah, he tried to dink the ball through to himself over defending limbs and got muscled out as the ball span away. In the 31^st minute, the ball fell kindly to him at the edge of the box, but he skewed his shot wide of the left-hand post. Success was effective in winning free-kicks, and did get round the back of the defence early in the second half, but could only win a corner. Xisco hiked him on 60 minutes, giving Gray, fresh from duty with Jamaica, a chance to impress from the bench.

But Gray could not do much, along with our whole attacking line. Instead, we won this game with our defensive prowess. Sierralta and Troost-Ekong are consistently alive to danger and a match for most strikers in this league. The latter cut out a Windass cross destined for Rhodes’ boot on 54 minutes, the former winning every defensive header going.

Bachmann is solid, and dependable. He doesn’t get called to do a lot, but what he does he does well, and very decisively. Our new number one came out quickly to flap down a Josh Windass chance mid-way through the first half, brave and direct. A little later he punched away a dangerous Bannan cross. He did not have to be spectacular to record our 18^th clean sheet of the campaign. He is very vocal, marshalling the troops ahead of him, a captain in the trenches, barking orders, keeping the lads on their toes.

It’s just as well our defensive display won us the points, as a second goal looked elusive. Pedro played well, as usual, and brought a fingertip save from Wildsmith in the Wednesday goal. Zinckernagel took up a few promising positions, but did not test the keeper when spaces opened up for him on the edge of the box. On another day, a more ruthless display would have exploited Wednesday’s soft underbelly. Their goalie kept shanking the ball out and handing us possession, but we just weren’t at the races. The tempo was slow, our ideas not executed quickly enough to prosper. Some promising looking free-kick routines, no doubt worked on in training this past week, all amounted to nothing.

Insignificant fare on the pitch, but significant points on the table. A good Friday, this Good Friday, for the suited and sneakered Watford boss. He looks every inch invested, in every minute, and every pass. He looked concerned by the slow tempo of the game, but knew what was required to get us over the line. Gosling and Sanchez are great ballast for a wobbling vessel, even if they both conceded possession in dangerous areas after their introductions. We have strength in depth, and five substitutes allows Xisco to make telling and timely contributions.

There’s been a lot of talk this week in Watford circles about the point at which promoted teams feel they’ve done it. We’re all wondering whether we’re allowed to start vocalising our positivity, and to what extent. We certainly don’t want to unbalance the universe with some unguarded moment of complacency, but internally, at least, we want to start putting the champers on ice.

Some, like Micah Hyde on Hive Live, said it was not really about one game, or one moment, but more a steady feeling of being formidable. The FTRE podcast fellas all had different defining moments from the 2014/15 season, but mine was the game against Middlesbrough at the Vic that we won 2-0. Boro were vying with us near the top, and this game, just after the Easter break, got me believing – almost expecting – promotion. If we can beat Middlesbrough again on Easter Monday, especially if our rivals drop points, then promotion will start to feel tangible. Crucially, once more, we play ahead of the chasing pack, with the chance to pull, even briefly, a massive 12 points away. Yes, 12, with only six games to go.

We were the only team to win from the top six, our 10^th from 11 games, with 50 points now amassed in our home games. Swansea lost again, this time to Birmingham, conceding a very debatable injury-time penalty. Brentford couldn’t overcome Huddersfield. Even Norwich surrendered two points in extra time at Deepdale, and we now sit only six points from the Canaries, still to play them. We’re closer to the summit than third.

But we cannot get distracted. Take note, fellow horns. The seventh placed team did win, and could easily mount a charge into the play-off spots. That team is Bournemouth, who despatched our next opponents Middlesbrough in convincing fashion, 3-1. Forget anti-climaxes, what an unrivalled sporting disaster it would be to squander automatic promotion and end up at Wembley against the Cherries for the final Premier League spot. We all know how that would pan out. Sorry to put the frighteners on you, but we haven’t achieved anything just yet.