It was all tee’d up on Teeside. An unnecessary tackle in a dangerous area late in the game. A set-piece expert talked up by the commentary team who has yet to deliver. An ex-Palace danger man suddenly introduced from the bench. Minute 78: Ken Sema’s tackle; Paddy McNair’s delivery; Yannick Bolasie’s headed finish. Sometimes you see it all in hindsight. Other times events unfold in front of your eyes like Deja vu. I didn’t just see this one coming, I’d written the script in my head. I’d felt it in my bones.

Not winning is an uncomfortable feeling, thankfully an unusual one for us in our current form. If Boro hadn’t grabbed a late and thoroughly deserved equaliser, we would have been 11 wins out of 12, and seven wins on the trot. All winning streaks have to end somewhere, so I suppose a point away at a decent Middlesbrough side isn’t the worst way to mess it up. Swansea losing again in injury time makes this point look a lot better than it did at 3pm on Easter Monday.

But we’ve been riding our luck of late with contested goals, taking all three points from close matches. And we’ve not had any of the usual banana skins of serious injury, early red cards, or calamitous own goals to contend with – although they could all yet click around on the wheel of Championship misfortune. Our previous promotion campaign – acting as a bit of a barometer for all of us – saw us take 4 points from 6 across the Easter weekend in 2014/15, including an incredible 2-2 comeback draw against Derby which, as we were down to 10 men for a large part of the game, felt like a win. It was 4 points from 6 again, but this time around, losing the lead instead of a man, it felt like a loss.

Chalobah’s lunge on Sam Morsy was the kind of borderline reckless challenge that could have resulted in a red card, with a different ref, on a different day. If that had been in an England shirt at the World Cup, for instance, Chalo would’ve been walking. In his defence he took the ball, the whole ball, etc, and although his legs were fully extended, showing some studs, there were not too many complaints from the men in red. Nate’s 11^th yellow card was the right colour, but edges him a little nearer to 15 which, if accumulated in the next four games would rule him out of the last, potentially crucial, fixtures against Brentford and Swansea. We can only hope they’ll be dead rubbers by the time they come around in early May.

Chalobah’s lunging tackle ended Morsy’s involvement in the game before the half-hour mark. It was the one moment of absolute commitment displayed by anyone on the field up to that point. In a way, it’s what you need the captain to do. His rush of adrenalin, and a full-blooded tackle executed just within acceptable margins, was a spark, and you could argue the catalyst for a goal which followed minutes after Boro’s number 5 had limped off the park.

The host’s game plan, as you’d expect from an old-timer like Neil ‘Colin’ Warnock, was to mark us tight in key areas, hoping to get something on the counter, or from a set-piece. The Kiko/Sarr axis down the right wing was always outnumbered, Sema could find no wriggle room down the left, whether or not Pedro or Masina was in support. Warnock’s charges overloaded the wide areas when we attacked down the flanks, and made it congested in the middle of the park. The only space afforded us seemed to be in our own half, where Sierralta and Troost-Ekong strung endless sideways passes as they nudged up the pitch inch by inch.

Initially this looked promising – Boro didn’t seem to want to press us too high, and our centre-halves were operating in acres of green space. But their forward passing options were virtually non-existent. So time and again the ball would end up with Kiko chipping one hopefully down the flank, or Sierralta carrying the ball deep into Boro territory, looking for a more incisive pass through the middle.

Warnock’s plan to nullify us was extremely effective. He doesn’t always have the rub of the green against Watford, having lost his last five encounters with three different clubs. But he was a manager even before ours was born, and with eight promotions under his belt over 41 years, and 40 previous encounters against the hornets, he’s got plenty of experience to draw from. Post-match, Neil’s assessment was that Watford would be walking into the Premiership. I do hope his wise old head is right about that.

It’s OK to talk the talk, as Warnock is famed for, but it’s about walking the walk, to max up the cliché factor. Well, there was plenty of walking in this game. It was a sedate affair. After 20 minutes my notes say QUIET. Were the teams just feeling each other out? Probably. We were very comfortable in possession (all 71% of it at this stage), but unable to do anything with it. We’d mustered two efforts on goal, a Zinckernagel pop deflected over in the 10^th minute, followed by a Sema shot, blocked by Fisher with no corner given. Boro were so focused on containment, they offered virtually nothing going forwards, although Masina was in the right place to cut out a dangerous looking Spence cross moments before our captain’s crunching tackle on Morsy.

Our 32nd minute goal was lucky in several respects. One, because Zinckernagel’s shot appeared to brush his left arm as he controlled the ball, and two, because the ball bounced off a static Sarr’s toes deflecting it wide of a committed Bettinelli. Boro’s players, almost to a man, started barking up the wrong tree, claiming Sarr was offside, when in fact he had been played on by two defenders, Spence and Fisher, too slow to get back as the Dane struck from the edge of the box. The build-up to the goal came from some trademark Pedro tenacity and skill. He tamed a shanked clearance into the box, setting up Sema for a fierce left-footer which Bettinelli did well to parry, before a defender half-cleared out to a lurking Zinckernagel.

We deserved the goal for showing some attacking endeavour, conspicuously absent from our opponent’s game. But the goal did spur them into life, with their game-plan fractured, if not exactly broken by our goal. Kebano was more lively, and after a neat twist or two sent a cross into our box, albeit overhit. They grew stronger as the half wore on, winning a series of corners. Lengthy periods of treatment, to Morsy and later, Sema, meant 7 additional minutes to negotiate. Every Boro ball into our box met a Watford head, be it Chalobah, Hughes or Pedro. Sierralta was sliding in to block crosses, or thumping them – no-nonsense – into the empty stands.

Several counter attacking opportunities fizzled out, one after some delightful ball juggling by Chalobah to beat his man, although too often Pedro was found on his heels, our passing game slightly off. From one late Boro cross, Bachmann clutched gratefully from Spence’s lobbed dink back to the far post from a tight angle. Troost-Ekong was guilty of playing a few careless forward balls when other routes were blocked, inviting more pressure. Boro finished the half with a corner, and we were the happier by far to hear Tim Robertson’s whistle.

So the warning signs were there. We had the goal, but weren’t doing nearly enough to prize open the Boro defence. The second half continued in much the same vein. It was all becoming a bit Iviccy – that is to say we looked like we were banking on another clean sheet to get the three points. It seemed likely that such a ploy would be enough, if lady luck continued her benign influence on our play. The lady was certainly smiling on us when Watmore stuck the ball into our net in the 50^th minute. Saville’s header from a Bola cross was on target before it struck the clearly offside Watmore, who turned it in past Bachmann to no avail. The linesman’s flag saved the prospect of an 11^th clean sheet in 18 appearances for the Austrian, who was soon to be clattered in the 60^th minute as Fisher piled in to contest a lofted ball. Big Dan absorbed the impact, and after another delay, the game resumed.

I never doubted we’d hold on for three points until the introduction of Bolasie. In fact, we had a little period of sustained pressure from around minute 60, with Sarr slinking to the by-line and teeing up Pedro for a fierce snapshot just wide of the near post. A corner followed, then a Chalobah cross which Masina rescued at the corner flag. Pedro worked hard to recycle the ball out to Sarr, culminating in another blocked Zinckernagel shot. By the time Bolasie was stood by the technical area waiting to come on, we’d just produced our best flowing move of the day, with Sarr feeding Zinckernagel, who found Sema, laying a perfect ball into Pedro’s path who opened up his body to fire inches wide of the far post. That was more like it.

But the substitutions had an instant impact. Once Akpom and Bolasie were introduced, we took our foot off the pedal and sat in. Boro’s new impetus had Xisco concerned, and within minutes he’d subbed Zinckernagel for Gosling, another indication that we just wanted to shore things up.

Yannick Bolasie, once the right half of Palace’s fearful attacking symmetry, mirrored by Wilfried Zaha – our old foe – on the left, looked like he wanted to hurt us. Attacking is in his DNA, just like his ex-colleague Zaha, so sitting off was about the worst thing we could do.

Bolasie, surely not, I thought. How far his star has waned since a high-profile switch to Everton. How on earth has his career trajectory landed him here, at this moment, about to take the pitch against us, with all his ex-Palace jinxery and chicanery? I simply wrote his name on the sheet, followed by one exclamation, and one question mark. BOLASIE!? It was an invitation for fate to trump luck.

If I half expected then, by the time he’d equalised 6 minutes after coming on, I was in full anticipation mode. A couple of early touches showed us his intent, as we tensed up. A free-kick from Paddy McNair in the 74^th minute ended in a scuffed half-chance for Boro. Don Goodman, commentating for Sky, was talking up the Northern Irishman’s set-piece proficiency, only to be underwhelmed by his execution. Paddy had taken part in all three of his country’s internationals during the break, so perhaps this was fatigue? Don’t you believe it. Then the 75^th minute, and Masina’s foul on Coulson gives McNair another chance. Ominously this time, although the free-kick comes to nothing, Bolasie gets his head to the ball first. We’re giving McNair plenty of chance to find his range.

Lady luck could do nothing to intervene when Sema’s decision-making was found wanting. Facing his own goal, 30 yards out near the touchline, the Swede inexplicably tried to play his way out of trouble between two Boro players, rather than hoofing it clear. A poor first touch surrendered possession and tempted him to lunge in to retrieve the lost ball. Cue McNair’s suddenly sumptuous delivery curling at pace towards the back post into a crowd of onrushing heads. Cue Bolasie’s head being the one that made contact, inexplicably finding space between Sierralta and Troost-Ekong for the crucial touch. Knew it.

In full Ivic mode, this was now ours to lose – somehow – Boro having scored with their 1^st shot on target. Bolasie remained a threat, winning another corner in the 81^st minute, but you sensed Boro had ‘come’ for a draw and were reasonably happy with a point, belying their play-off ambitions. Warnock said after the game they treated this one like an away fixture. Instead of the home team full of possession, trying to break down a counter-attacking away team, roles were reversed at the Riverside. And honours, in the final analysis, were even.

Our late introduction of Success for Sema at least gave them something new to think about, and the Nigerian made some good contributions. But once we’d been pegged back, a draw was the best we could hope for. Naturally, a disappointing result, given how close we were to all three. Although we remain 10 points clear in second, Warnock has shown others how we can be nullified. After another Swansea defeat, all eyes now turn to Brentford, only four points behind us if they win their games in hand, with us to play. There can be no more daydreaming about overtaking Norwich – not now. The prize is too delicious, too momentous, to take our eye off the ball.

I refuse to panic, but I do admit to having plenty of background jitters. Even if we were in Norwich’s position, I’d still be working out all the possible ways in which we could be undone. And it really isn’t going to be straight-forward. There are six games to go, four of which are against top six sides (against whom our record is not convincing), one against tough opponents in Millwall, and another against, historically, our most bitter rivals, Luton. There’ll be no coasting to the Prem with this run-in. We’ll need to be at it from the first minute in every game, starting with Friday night’s visit of in-form Reading. Potentially the most winnable of the six games, it would save us all a lot of anguish if we could brush them aside, or nick it by one dubious goal – don’t care. At least the Royals are unlikely to sit in for a draw, so let’s just hope we can out-luck, or out-Joao them. If they turn us over, it’s surely open season again for second spot.