Preston North End 2 Watford 2 (14/02/2026) 15/02/2026
Posted by Matt Rowson in Thoughts about things.
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1- It’s crisp and cold in Preston. The rare sunshine, such a treat after weeks and weeks of grey skies and rain, had refused to cross the Pennines; we’d seen the cloud cover delineating the border as we headed across from Leeds. We’re early – we’re always early – but not that early and yet it’s very quiet in the spacious Deepdale concourse. Quiet in that there’s not many folk (though Don’s here of course, hell hasn’t frozen over quite yet) and those that have made it in are… not sombre exactly, but passive. Low key. Waiting to see what happens, perhaps exhausted by Everything.
In my case specifically, the quietness is also borne of my discovery of the Butter Pie, a delicacy that had so far escaped me but which is unlikely to do so henceforth. On an afternoon where expectations weren’t high – this my eighth visit to Deepdale, not a hint of a win before today – such highlights weren’t to be taken for granted.
It’s natural to feel deflated by Everything though. To whatever extent you think that whatever is wrong, whoever and to whatever extent you think someone is to blame, culpable. Whether your approach is to be relentlessly positive or unremittingly negative or anywhere in between. What we all agree on surely is the desire to have something identifiable to support. Every time things are chucked up in the air you have to reset, that is compromised – for all that we don’t support a particular player or a particular manager, not even that one. It’s surely more than a nameless anonymous entity at any point in time. You need something tangible to cling to.
2- And yet here we are, at Deepdale of all places, venue of countless sorry defeats and unmemorable draws on a bleak February afternoon. It’s half term of course, which may be news to folk who aren’t at school, or aren’t parents or carers of kids at school, or who don’t work in education but for me, personally, in the latter and (just about) the second but last camp it’s a highly significant consideration. I have a little bandwidth, no lessons to deliver for over a week and so here I am.
I’m aware thast BHaPPY is missing a critical chapter. That, if and when an intelligent alien lifeform studies the human race’s evolution via the prism of this blog they might reasonably wonder what the hell happened between a dismantling of Birmingham City on New Year’s Day and here to precipitate all that has changed since. The future of the human race might turn on the absence of that chapter. Apologies in advance if things turns out badly as a result.
Beyond that possibility, not going to apologise for radio silence. No point… life has taken a massive turn, and I’m loving it to be honest but I am, as my brother put it, “no longer as time rich as I used to be”. Nor can I promise to up my game, much as I’d like to. Subscribe to the blog and you’ll be notified when another report comes up if it matters to you, I hope it’s very soon (but midweek reports are definitely out during term time…).
Meanwhile, here’s Ed Still. Not just out of left field, not just someone we’d never heard of but the brother of the bookie’s favourite. Surely there’s been some mistake? Is this the old “did Milan get Luther when they wanted Barnes” thing coming back to bite us? And yet his manner is immediately disarming. Candid, likeable, intelligent. Intelligent enough (or well-advised, and intelligent enough to pay attention) to hollow out a window for podcast interviews before his feet have even touched the ground, and to meet both the Bayat link and the nature of his appointment head on. It’s still a bit weird, but you’re already rooting for him.
3- His first team selection reflects the pragmatism suggested in that interview; four massive blokes across the back, in part necessitated by a knock to Ngakia but also mindful of our hosts’ physical threat. Saba Goglichidze will spend much of the hour of his full debut beating the crap out of Daniel Jebbison who, partly as a consequence perhaps, puts in one of those listless, misunderstood poet performances so characteristic of his time at Vicarage Road. Goglichidze’s superpower appears to be to be able to time his two handed shoves to his opponent to maximum effect… exacting optimal disruption to his opponent without attracting the attention of the officials. Jebbo, of course, gets pulled up immediately the first time that he tries something similar in response.
Goglichidze also does a nice line in clipped passes up the line out of defence, and will end his contribution well in credit, his take-no-shit nightclub bouncers partnership with the returning Mattie Pollock in the centre already looking a fine thing.
It’s a pretty turgid half of football though. Mundane stuff played out by mundane teams on a terrible pitch. Ed Still’s stated determination to play on the front foot is welcome, but inevitably leads to some hairy moments at the back, as does the experiment of playing Edo alongside Papy in one of the holding midfield roles. Meanwhile we’re playing very direct in attack, lots of long balls towards Luca who is isolated and not really a target man despite looking a bit like one sometimes. That he’s being dealt an impossible hand is lost on several around us, particularly a vocal gentleman to our right who loudly chastises Kjerrumgaard for not being a hybrid of Erling Haaland and Robocop.
Preston are ahead at the break, and probably deserve to be. James Abankwah, as Will points out, can be relied on to put maximum effort into everything asked of him. He is also made of solid iron… on two occasions an opponent simply bounces off when attempting to muscle him off the ball, a lesson Oli McBurnie had to learn at Hull. He doesn’t have the awareness to be an effective attacking full back though, twice giving the ball away in promising positions through ill-judged passes inside. At the other end, the hosts have identified him as a weak link and much of their attacking is down his side. They bypass him far too easily in a good move that sees Dobbin turn Whiteman’s pass past Selvik.
4- One-nil down to a mundane team in a mundane game at half time. The mood in the concourse isn’t any more buoyant than it was beforehand, and the chants about Pozzo were audible towards the end of the half, albeit with limited takeup. North End stalwart of times past Lee Cartwright is presented on pitch; he’s working in a children’s care home, doing a bit of football training with the kids on the side. “Did you never fancy getting into coaching, Lee?”. “Naaah, gotta have a passion for what you do, haven’t you?”. Another crumb of pleasure to put on today’s list along with the Butter Pie. Lee Cartwright is a top fella. Also, every Preston team should feature a player called Cartwright.
Meanwhile. I don’t know what Ed Still said to his charges at the interval, but if we extrapolate the improvement to first half of to the second into the rest of the season and beyond (which may or may not be a reasonable thing to do…) then Watford can expect to challenge for the World Cup in the summer, let alone promotion.
The turnaround is extraordinary and almost immediate. The most visible tactical change is the removal of Giorgi in favour of the bristling figure of Kwadwo Baah on the right touchline, Maamma switching to the left. The gloom is lifted for the first time. “Baah will tear you apart again” comes the chant, almost tentatively with a question mark implied. But I’m surely not alone in regarding Baah, of all the precocious talents in our squad, as the one… if not with the highest ceiling, then the one I’d choose to watch in full flow. This is the Baah appearance off the bench of your mind’s eye, aggressive and positive and irresistible and pretty terrifying whichever side you support. I’d happily drive to Preston or Middlesbrough or Plymouth every weekend to watch him do this to a full back. Blood lust, yes. Sue me.
But as we’ve discussed before, two evil wingers is more than twice as useful as one. Yes, yes, you need to feed them and they need to track back, at least up to a point, and so on. But where do you look? Where do you look? And so it’s Othmane Maamma who pulls us level, released by Imran Louza who has cut out some space via a neat 1-2 with Kjerrumgaard before spreading the play to his compatriot. Maamma turns inside Offiah to cut across the edge of the area and the rest is inevitable, his balance is perfect and the ball is rolled past the keeper’s dive. Maamma heads straight for the bench – to Karim Belhocine, it appears on replay, which is a good sign – and in the away end everything has changed.
Two minutes later and Baah is snarling down the right, defying anyone in white to challenge him. It’s bloody wonderful to watch, if this wasn’t already clear. I’d write a song about it if I was into that sort of thing. And the ball is across and it’s undefendable; officially it’s an og by Offiah but if the maligned Kjerrumgaard didn’t get the touch then he forced it by attacking the cross. Cornell in goal can do nothing either way and the game has been turned on it’s head.
5- Everyone needs a reset. The vanquished Jebbison departs as part of a triple change by Paul Heckingbottom and Saba Goglichidze exits too, his job done. In his place we see Formose Mendy and, not for the first time, whilst holding Javi Gracia in the highest esteem you do have to wonder about the amount of talent that he sidelined. Papy Mendy has already proven his mettle with a couple of fetching and carrying and snipping and snarling Johnny Hogg performances (another here), and Petris will once again provide yet another set of high speed legs off the bench late on. Big Mendy is surely the poster boy for this little bomb squad though, our “priority target” in the summer discarded despite our need for centre backs becoming urgent. His half hour here is pretty magnificent, we are no clearer on what went before.
Unfortunately for the Hornets, North End’s triple sub features the return (from suspension, obvs), of irritating psychopath Osmajic. With a degree of inevitability it’s his (excellent) finish after a break and good work from debutant Lang that draws North End level. We are destined to hold the lead for only thirteen minutes of the afternoon, a disappointing return.
Since the half is characterised by North End being run ragged, they end the game utterly exhausted as every passing minute brings the possibility of victory closer. They’ll argue that the blocks and the deflections and the bodies earned their point, but nobody could have argued if one of the many chances had gone in to decide the game, least of all a sublime volley from Formose Mendy which span off the inside of the post, rolled along the goalline, by-passed the far post and went out for a goal kick. By this time a fine chant (new to my ears) had gained traction, celebrating Big and Little Mendy in turn to the tune of 2 Unlimited’s “No Limit”.
Another breathtaking Baah run causes carnage which concludes with a fierce drive by Kayembe that flies just wide of the post – replays reveal that it was heading for the bottom corner before a well-judged Lilywhite foot sends it wide, a deflection spotted by the officials but not us at the time. A series of corners suggested that our new-found army of big blokes gives us a huge threat, Louza’s deliveries finding first Pollock and then Big Mendy to direct headers with increasing violence towards the same top corner, a vital interception denying each to the detriment of the defender’s health on each occasion. Mfuni, excellent again, has already demonstrated potential in this area albeit his approach of hurling himself backwards at the ball with little regard for his own safety is more entertaining than effective thus far. Baah lashes a shot narrowly wide of the top corner – that’s the one I’d have chosen to go in – before Storey, mercifully, forgoes a good headed opportunity which would have been unforgivably cruel.
6- It isn’t that sort of afternoon, in the end. The game concludes and there are vigorous celebrations between supporters and fans after surely the best half of football since New Year’s Day. Big Mendy is prominent. Ed is prominent. Baah makes sure that he adds his appreciation some minutes after the others once his interview has concluded.
And then there’s Bove. He’ll become Ted Bovis in time (thanks again, Hutch). But today he’s Edoardo Bove.
That he’s not the first doesn’t matter. Nor that he’s not Christian Eriksen (though he might be), nor that his life-changing, life-threatening incident didn’t happen on as big a stage in front of our eyes. His five minutes or so at the end here are inconsequential in every respect other than that they happen at all, but in that regard he’s already a hero. Whatever his much-vaunted footballing ability there can be no doubting this guy’s bravery, his character, his resolve. He is visibly emotional at the end of the game, his first senior football since collapsing on the pitch whilst playing for Fiorentina fourteen months ago. All power to him.
And to us. Early days, and I’ve still never seen us win at Deepdale but this was enormous fun in the end.
Looking forward to next Saturday very much indeed. No pressure, Ed.
Yooorns.
Selvik 3, Abankwah 3, Goglichidze 4, Pollock 3, Mfuni 4, N.Mendy 3, Kayembe 3, Louza 4, Chakvetadze 2, Maamma 3, Kjerrumgaard 3
Subs: *Baah (for Chakvetadze, 45) 4*, F.Mendy (for Goglichidze, 61) 4, Doumbia (for Kjerrumgaard, 78) NA, Petris (for Pollock, 78) NA, Bove (for Louza, 88) NA, Ince, Mullins, Baxter