Exams
May 31, 2006
Author: Golden Hornet

I had exams last week, one in Financial Analysis, one in Organisational Management. They didn’t go well.

I’ve always thought that success in exams is dependent on two things - preparation, and performance on the day. It is important to spend time understanding the subject, practicing questions, and working harder on the problem areas. With good preparation, you can normally know the eventual outcome with some confidence, before the event itself. You sit a practice exam or two, and the chances are a similar result will follow in the real thing. But you have to put in the preparation first, spend the time practicing, and then make sure you carry that performance into the exam hall. Only then can you be sure that nothing has been left to chance.

I had the week off work prior to these exams for my preparation. I prepared and prepared. My exams were Tuesday and Wednesday. I got my wires crossed and focussed my preparations on the previous Sunday.

While trying desperately to concentrate on the intricacies of a consolidated balance sheet, I found myself drawn to news sources, previews, message boards and mailing lists. I found myself checking my tickets for the game every half hour. I still haven’t received my train tickets. Nerves and excitement, and a little feeling of impending disaster regarding my exams, did not make for much rest. My attention drifted from website to website, and my exam preparation was getting nowhere. That balance sheet would have to wait. There are more important things.

And so to Sunday. The day of the big examination. Tickets safely stowed, and somewhat bleary eyed from yet another sleepless night, off we set for Paddington. I had to find “David” from the train company to tell him what Marlon says and ensure my passage onto the “Hornet Express”. I read the papers, I got even more nervous, and we finally arrived in Cardiff.

Walking around Cardiff, the grey sky, drizzle, and wind contrast with a sea of Yellow, apparently standing out far more than our friends in White. It was an eerie sight, and did nothing to calm my nerves. After a few beers both outside and inside the stadium, we made our way to our seats with about twenty minutes to go. A bunch of Royal Marines messed about with some flags, a firework scared the socks off the Leeds players, and Watford looked relaxed. Calm. They knew they had done their homework, Aidy had had them very well prepared, they were ready to answer the questions. All that remained was performing on the day.

The emotion of the day has made what follows something of a blur.

Kick off, and we are immediately attacking, retaining possession well, and the majority of play seems to be far away from the gathered mass of excited yellow, in the Leeds half. The swarm of Hornet’s faithful are awash with colour and noise, co-ordinated singing is difficult in the atmosphere of a closed-in Millennium Stadium, but there are pockets of chants and song, occasionally spreading around the Northern half of the ground. The first few questions, and we answer them well. We’ve prepared. We’re performing. This is fun.

25 minutes. Another set-piece, in comes Jay. Thump. 1-0. The north side erupts into a blur of joy and celebration, voices already hoarse. We might actually do this! We’ve prepared. We’re performing.

Half time, and my brother calmly reminds me that we have not yet finished the exam…45 minutes of probing questions remain. The time to celebrate will come, but not yet. Concentrate.

The second half begins and Leeds have come out fighting. They are moving the ball well, and retaining possession. We’re comfortable, but not quite as comfortable as we had been. The latter parts of the question paper - the tougher questions. The yellow-clad army continues to sing and shout, nervous excitement growing with anticipation. Watford begin regaining control, and play flows smoothly between attacks. We look in control again. We’ve prepared. We’re performing.

55 minutes. Chambers smacks a ball from another long throw from Mahon. It loops off Lewis…and Sullivan saves. No wait…he’s dropped it…30,000 Watford fans simultaneously hold their breaths, as the ball appears to hover on the goal line for what seems like an eternity. Finally, the ball trickles across the line. Cue complete pandemonium….we are surrounded by tears, shouting, cheering, singing, and everywhere, beaming smiles. We’ve prepared. We’re performing.

The rest of the game is awash with emotion. The delight at how we’ve performed. The preparation has paid off. The party has not quite begun in full, but we all know it’s on its way. We won’t let this slip…not with our team…not with Aidy. We’re dominating anyway, and the Leeds attacks crash against the rocks of Jay and Malky…there’s no way through. We know. They know.

84 minutes. Spring, running with intent through the Leeds middle, passes to King. Our golden-boot winning hero, as is the norm, controls beautifully. As he squares up to shoot, Derry slides into him. Penalty. No doubt. Once more the crowd up the decibels, and as Doris converts calmly, I find myself standing open mouthed, not celebrating. This is too good. We were expecting a tougher exam. My brother embraces me and allows himself to finally celebrate our achievement, I feel a lump in my throat. That’s it. We’ve done it. We prepared. We performed.

The final whistle blows and the entire Watford contingent - fans, players, manager, board directors, chairman, and staff - celebrate wildly. This is heaven. The tears are streaming down my cheek. I try to shout and sing, but the sound gets caught in my throat. I pull myself together only to be set-off again by the presentation. I look around and all I can see, beyond the beaming face of my brother, is smiles, tears, un-restrained joy and happiness. This is what it’s about. Brilliant. Just brilliant.

On the train home, the guy I am sitting next to is grumpy because the Watford fans aren’t singing. I understand his frustrations and so join him in trying to rouse a chorus of a song or too. We are partly successful. It’s just all been too much I realise, the journey that Aidy has taken us all on this season. We cannot celebrate fully - because we are still trying to work it all out, we still don’t quite understand. That did just happen, didn’t it?

And so it was back to revising, back to preparing, hoping I could prepare and perform as well as Aidy and the boys.

Sometimes the journey is more important than the destination. The premiership has always been the target, but this achievement is all the more beautiful for the journey we have taken, the people we have proved wrong, the unbelievable turnaround. The premiership is a fantastic prize, but this was made better by the unlikely story told along the way.

I watched the game again the day after. The lump in my throat returned. Just so proud.

It’s likely that I won’t have passed my exams. It doesn’t matter.

Watford passed theirs. With full marks.

Nothing else matters.

Chelsea? Arsenal? Liverpool? Man United? Newcastle? Tottenham?

Bring it on.