One Premier League game to go. Brentford sit 11th in the table, with this Sunday’s visit from Leeds United even bigger than it already was following last night’s almost perfect combination of results. Everton are safe after coming back from 0-2 down to defeat Palace. Burnley control their own destiny after holding Aston Villa in a game that, arguably, they may even have won. Regardless, the point earned was sufficient to take them out of the bottom three as we head into that final round of fixtures. The Bees are now clear of both Villa and The Eagles, knowing that a win (combined with defeat for Brighton) will see us finish tenth. This would, of course, also see Leeds United relegated….….
Oh. My. You couldn’t have scripted it. A moment that has been building for so long is now upon us. We’d all seen the possibility from the moment the fixtures were published. Albeit most critics thinking it would be Leeds United as the ones aiming to hit the top ten whilst swinging the axe marked ‘relegation’. Instead, it is Brentford who find themselves in pole position. The stars slowly aligning over the last few months with supporters whispering under their breath about the potential for the final weekend but barely even able to speak about it for fear of the dream scenario not coming into play. Now, it has. Now we are in a place where…
Honestly, I don’t think I’ve had this kind of pre-match buzz since the return of Harlee Dean and Birmingham City to Griffin Park in February 2018.
Their triple transfer swoop earlier in the season had, of course, already left a sour taste in the mouth
Maxime Colin. Gone. As much a blow as it meant we lost Peter Gilham’s quite wonderful Gallic stylings as he wrapped his tongue around the full back’s consonants.
Jota. Gone. There aren’t the words to describe the heartbreak felt. Even now, he’s up there in the bracket of my most favourite of all modern-era players. The passion. The joy. What he did in the last minute. Time and again. What he did at Fulham. What he did to Jake Bidwell at Griffin Park. The flowing locks. The silky skills. The heartbreaking ‘farewell’ (first time). The joyous return. All to go ’there’. Urghh

And, of course, Harlee Dean. Gone.
Harry Redknapp flashing the Birmingham City chequebook to hoover up a quarter of our starting XI in a move that would ultimately backfire big time. Harlee then kicking us squarely in the knackers with ‘that’ soundbite. Another case of the brain taking a good ten seconds to catch up. Much akin to a man leaving his car keys in the ignition, sticking a big bow on the bonnet and then turning his back as an opportunistic thief walked past..

It was a moment that is as now enshrined in Brentford infamy as Russell Slade, the Burnley commentary team, Martin Rowlands’ twisted kiss and number 26 refusing to play against Burnley. Just prior to his then signing….for Burnley.
That said, should he do the business against Newcastle on Sunday (something that will also see Leeds relegated regardless of how things play out at Lionel Road) then perhaps we can cut a little slack. Perhaps…

The scene had been set but what played out when Birmingham City made their first visit to Brentford since all of that nonsense was beyond even the wildest dreams. You knew something special was in the air when, on walking into the ground, the first song heard from #BeeTheDJ was Jessie J – Price Tag . “Money. Money. Money” indeed.
The crowd were buzzing, the atmosphere charged. Flo Jo and Ollie Watkins giving us an early lead before a brace from Neal Maupay made it 4-0 with less than an hour played. Harlee coping it from everyone with even goalkeeper Daniel Bentley unable to supress his giggles. Ollie rounding things with a late fifth and that’s how things stayed.
Yet just when you thought it couldn’t get any better, there was Brentford Official to surpass even the Jessie J moment. Instead of our regular ‘win music’, there was the ultimate in trolling.
Kool and The Gang / Celebrate subbed off.
The Monkees/ Daydream Believer brought on for a rousing reception.
The chants of ‘Cheer up Harlee Dean’ which had being doing the round most of the game, cranked up to the loudest yet. Simply beautiful and, whilst there has been a lot of subsequent dissection of this moment – predominantly saying we should have been better than this – for me, Clive, it captured the mood of the supporters quite magnificently. It was dirty. It was a low blow. It was brilliant.
That’s how it feels for this Sunday. A game where there is a personal edge to all of this.
A team whose fan base, amongst all of those aiming the tinpot jibes, has been as condescending as it comes over the years.
A club who have consistently fleeced visiting supporters.
A club, apparently, too big for a league that has regularly seen them matched up with ‘little’ Brentford in recent years. Of course, stadium size equates to the league a team should be playing in.
Neal Maupay doing what only Neal could. Even when there were no supporters present.

Then there’s ‘that. video. Probably most of all there’s that video.
“Mind the Gap, Thomas Frank”.….. Not my words Carol. The words of Liam Cooper and Stuart Dallas.
I’m sure whatever Thomas says in public, there’s nothing that will give greater pleasure than boxing this one off. Than being the one whose team turn the screw and deliver the fatal blow.
Oh, to return all of that with interest and a smile….
Football isn’t that simple, of course. Wishful thinking alone doesn’t win games. Leeds United will be in a desperate fight for survival. Much as we’d all love to be facing a litter of toothless kittens, I suspect we’ll be confronted by a caged tiger. A desperate beast backed into a corner with survival hanging in the balance.
Their support will be loud. Fierce. Ours needs to be ten times better. And it will. This is going to be as exciting as it comes. As much for the chance of our own top ten finish as whatever else may come.
Watching the Burnley game in The Griff last night, the cheer as they went 1-0 up said everything about where our hearts lie. About what is now in front of us.
I can’t wait for this one. See you there…

Nick Bruzon