"Come on, Danny!" I shouted - nay, screamed - loud enough to frighten all the Herdwick sheep in the field and disturb the lady novelist upstairs, not that she was writing anything (she always says she's just playing).
“DAH-NEE!" I screamed.
My wife came into my TV room, wondering if I was watching George Harrison's son playing in some group. "That's Dhani," I said. "I am watching Danny, Danny Graham, the one and only, our hero and saviour. Come on, Danny, give us a goal!"
“But it's Swansea City v Sunderland," she observed, astutely - you have to be when, up on the top left, they just put "SWA" and "SUN", which could well mean that Swaziland were playing Sunday Island.
(I used to long for Farnborough Town to play Arsenal. At the top of the screen, it would have said "FAT ARS".)
“I didn't know you supported Swansea," she said. "Are you suddenly Welsh?"
“Could well be," I said. My Davies is spelled the proper, pedigree Welsh way, not like those phoneys called Davis, whose forebears probably changed their name from Davinski or O'Davy when they got off the boat. I am Scottish, however, and was brought up in Carlisle. The family legend is that our Davies changed sides at Waterloo in 1815 - no, not joining the French but, instead of going home to Wales, he became a batman to the Duke of Argyll.
One of the reasons for shouting for Danny was that he didn't seem to be in the game. For about 20 minutes, he hadn't had a touch, and when eventually he did, he missed another goal. Later, Match of the Day made a feature of him not scoring.
Poor Danny. He's still to score for Swansea after three games in the Premiership; but last season, playing for Watford in the Championship, he scored loads.
He was bought by Swansea in the summer for £3.5m (a vast sum, in Swansea terms) to score goals and keep them up in the Prem - well, for a bit, anyway. Let's hope he breaks his duck in their next game, against Arsenal. The main reason for cheering Danny, though, encouraging him on, was gratitude. I don't suppose many armchair Prem fans are aware of his background or how he got to Watford. Gather round.
Danny Graham, now aged 26, born in Gateshead, started off quite well, playing for the England under-20s, but he never made the grade at Middlesbrough, and drifted on to Darlington, Derby, Leeds and Blackpool. He was a striker who never seemed to strike.
It was during his two years playing for Carlisle United, between 2007 and 2009, that he found form - or got knocked into shape, so Carlisle fans like
to think - scoring goals galore. It encouraged Watford to come along and offer . . . nothing.
The situation was complicated, because of his age and the intricacies of the Bosman rulings. Watford eventually upped their offer to £25,000. Carlisle went to a Football League tribunal, argued their case for decent compensation and ended up with £350,000. And clever old Carlisle, as well as getting a half-decent payment, also managed to get it agreed that they would get 15 per cent of Watford's profit on any further transfer. So, when Danny moved to Swansea this summer, Carlisle secured an unexpected windfall of around £450,000.
Not much to a Prem club that spends that much on smoked salmon for the directors' lounge, or a Prem player who spends the same on his wife's second car, but it is a massive amount for a little club such as Carlisle in League One, trying to subsist on gates of 5,000. Such clubs have to hope, each season, for something unexpected to happen to balance the books: a good Cup run, say, which Carlisle has had for the past few seasons.
That can't be relied upon. Yet now, with just a few weeks of the season gone, Carlisle already know that they will end the season in the black. Thanks to Danny Graham.
“So, come on, Danny!"
“Will you stop shouting that?"
“I am making a moral statement, pet. In football, as in so many other fields, life at the bottom so often depends on life at the top."