Tales From Wembley

Chelsea vs. Everton : 30 May 2009.

So, the final on Saturday had all of Britain glued to their TV sets. I am sure they weren’t disappointed.

Well done Diversity – worthy winners.

…bad luck, Susan Boyle!

I jest…

With the Champions League Final taking place on the Wednesday, the media coverage of this year’s FA Cup Final has been very low-key. The fall-out to United’s non-performance in Rome was still being discussed everywhere on Friday. Our game with Everton wasn’t getting much of a mention.

For the record, this was Chelsea’s ninth Cup Final. We were losing finalists in 1915, 1967, 1994 and 2002, but winners in 1970, 1997, 2000 and 2007. My life as a Chelsea fan began with the 1970 win versus Leeds, though I remember nothing of the game…it was the discussions in the school playground after which led me to choose Chelsea…surely more success would follow. If only I knew!

I am sure everyone is aware of our lack of success in the league from 1955 to 2005. Growing up as a kid in the ‘seventies and ‘eighties, I had to endure year after year of taunts from friends as Chelsea flitted in and out of the top two divisions. It was a tough upbringing and not even the FA Cup could bring me any respite. In fact, we were even worse in the cup than the league. From our appearance in the 1970 final to our next appearance in a final in 1994, we did not reach one single FA Cup Final. As a comparison, here is a list of the London teams who reached the FA Cup Final in this period.

1971-Arsenal
1972-Arsenal
1975-Fulham and West Ham
1978-Arsenal
1979-Arsenal
1980-Arsenal and West Ham
1981-Tottenham
1982-Tottenham and QPR
1984-Watford
1987-Tottenham
1988-Wimbledon
1990-Crystal Palace
1991-Tottenham
1993-Arsenal

Doesn’t that make grim reading? Look at some of those teams…Fulham! QPR! Wimbledon! In this period of time, my team Chelsea did not even reach one FA Cup semi-final!

Yes it was as bad as that.

Every year, I watched the FA Cup Final on TV in early May and wondered if I had not read the small print on my Chelsea Fan Contract…years of under-achievement guaranteed. Throw in three relegations for good measure, too…what a period in our history.

A terrible 0-4 defeat to Manchester United in the 1994 Final rubbed salt in the wound, but all of this hardship – 26 years with no trophies – was forgotten on a never-to-be-forgotten day in 1997 when we beat ‘Boro 2-0 and celebrated like never before. I still get goose-bumps at the thought of that wonderful weekend. In fact, immediately after this game, for quite a period, I felt as if my relationship with my club had been irretrievably changed…I was now supporting a successful team and my brain and body did not know how to cope. I felt very odd. For so long, we wore the “no trophies but passionate support” mantle as a badge of honour and now…I don’t know…it seemed different, somehow.

Wembley 1997 was up there with the very best though…only behind Bolton 2005 in my book.

All these dates in our history…

And here’s more history – as you know, I have been harking back to 1983-84 all season and for this final game, my mind went back to May 1984. After the game against Barnsley, I did something very silly – I went and got myself a job in a local dairy. I hated the first few days to be honest…I was forever humming words from a Smiths’ song…”I was looking for a job and then I found a job and heaven knows I’m miserable now.” Our last game was at Grimsby but I was not going…I had made no plans, though I suppose with my first ever job starting on the Thursday, I could have gone up by train. Not to worry – I had enjoyed a good run in 1983-1984; a best ever eleven games.

Two other strange echoes from 1984…

Everton reached the FA Cup Final and the European Cup Final was held in Rome.

Back to 2009. On Thursday, over a period of an hour, my Cup Final Weekend plans took a hammering…first we were to learn that Saturday evening’s Depeche Mode gig was cancelled and then we heard that Friday’s Morrissey gig was cancelled too!

Gutted!

I was going to stay with Alan for the weekend, but these plans changed…I would now be going up with Karen, Dave, Glenn and PD.

The Frome Five set off at 8am and it was already a lovely sunny morning. Unfortunately, PD is not renewing his season ticket next season but all of my other mates are doing so. There wasn’t too much chat about the Final on the way up…the only thing I remember discussing was the likelihood of Mikel coming in for Ballack…and the likelihood of Everton packing their midfield, leaving only Saha up front.

“And he’s rubbish” I said.

We marked the likely starting line-up’s performances this season.

Cech 6
Bosingwa 6
Cole 7
Terry 7
Alex 8
Mikel 6
Essien 6
Lampard 9
Malouda 6
Drogba 7
Anelka 8

Nearing London we hit some bad traffic caused by a crash by Twickenham. We reversed down the motorway slip-road along with many more cars ( quite illegal ) and headed in via some back roads around Heathrow and then the M4. We were parked up by 10.15am, but were behind schedule. The others were meeting in a pub at Marble Arch, but we had our usual breakfast in Fulham. We walked to West Brompton – that breeze was nice! – and caught the tube to Marble Arch. Then a quick walk up to The Duke Of York where the rest of the lads were now based. We arrived at 11.45pm.

What a pre-match…fantastic times!

Simon, Milo, Rob, Gary, Alan, Daryl and Ed were already there. And…Neil?

The first bit of good news involved Neil who was originally unable to get a ticket. His nephew Ed had fatefully bumped into a bloke at a gym on Thursday who “knew someone who knew someone” who had a spare. An hour later, Neil was booked on a flight from Guernsey. I was made up for him.

Detroit Bob had been in touch and he was sat around the corner with a pint of Strongbow…I first met him in Chicago in 2006. I introduced him to the boys and I downed a pint of Staropramen. Russ from Frome showed up and he had a ticket from a mate working at ITV. Then Mike and Alex from New York rolled in, minus Chopper, who was ill in bed.

I pinned my Peter Osgood flag up against the pub window and a few photos were taken. The sky was clear, the sun was shining and the beers were going down smoothly. I chatted to Mike, Bob and Alex, but felt a bit bad about it. All of these friends from America can’t be ignored, but I hardly spoke to Alan and Gary, for example. A special word for these two stalwarts. It has been a long season and the game at Wembley would be my 55th game, matching my total number of games in 2007-2008. However, Alan and Gary had been to all 59 games. A fantastic performance.

Lacoste Watch

Daryl – canary

Alex had been lucky enough to go to the Boca vs. River Plate game in Buenos Aires and he regaled me with amazing stories from that game. We spoke a little about the summer tour…Mike and Bob are doing all four, Alex just Baltimore. I had brought the visitors from The States a little gift from Somerset – a little bottle of scrumpy cider apiece.

Good times.

Walnuts and Whitey showed up – alas without tickets – and then Andy and Smithy.

With everyone now assembled, I ushered everyone together and took a few photos of The Bada Bing Firm, with invited guests! The only absentees were Parky, who was getting hammered at The Bridge, and San Francisco Pete, who never made it to the pub despite promptings!

The plan…ha!…was to leave between 1.30pm and 1.45pm so I could get in to the stadium in good time to put up my Peter Osgood banner. One drink lead to another and we eventually left for Marylebone at just before 2pm. On the walk to the station, I chatted to Rob about the game in Baltimore and he was keen to go. He had been drinking amoretto all day…”Amoretto, Chelsea Amoretto” was sung with gusto!

Massive crowds at the station forecourt and a frustrating time. The station echoed to Chelsea songs. Good vibes, but let’s get going! We eventually got through and got into an empty carriage. The train didn’t move for ten minutes as the carriage filled-up. We pulled away at about 2.30pm, but thank heavens, it’s only a ten minute trip. I had awoken at 6.45am with a sore throat, but I didn’t care.

I led the singing with a classic “Zigger Zagger” ( oh, my throat! ) and the carriage was rocking.

On the quick walk up to the stadium, I noted only Chelsea fans heading towards the game. Just a gaggle of Evertonians – ticketless, miserable – heading in the opposite direction. It was now 2.50pm and so much for my plans! Quickly inside and up several escalators, bumping into Andy from Trowbridge and Fun Time Franky from Frome at the top. In the two minutes inside Wembley, Frank had managed to lose his ticket. Nightmare!

I heard the national anthem – I was fed up I had missed all of the pageantry this year – and made my way into my seat in row 11 of section 544 high above the far corner flag. There were eight of us in a row. Great seats. I glanced around. I had got in at 2.55pm. I wouldn’t be able to pin my Ossie flag up…not yet anyway. I noted the balcony in the Everton end absolutely festooned with flags, yet our balcony was only a third-covered. Our big flags though – JT, Frank, Matthew Harding – were out in force. I saw that Mikel was playing…good.

At 3pm I took a photo of Saha and Fellaini waiting for the kick-off whistle.

After 12 seconds, I took a photo of the ball being pumped upfield.

After 25 seconds, misery.

What a start. Oh boy. Here we go. We’ll have to do this the hard way. So be it. To be fair to everyone, we didn’t panic and stroked the ball around confidently. I had no doubts that we would win. I sent a text message out to a few people to this effect.

Malouda was getting lots of space down the left and after a fine cross, Drogba lept with no challenge from the defenders. I was perfectly positioned to see the ball drop straight into the Everton goal…I was watching the trajectory of the ball and it was a joy to behold.

Get in! I grabbed my camera and took two impromptu shots of Glenn and Daryl. They are classics!

We continued to dominate for the rest of the half and our support, out sung by the Evertonians, grew louder. It was definitely a case of “game on!”

During the interval, I grabbed my Peter Osgood flag and marched down to the front. I carefully threaded some string and hung the flag up, high above the NW corner flag. I sent a few texts out and asked people to keep an eye out for it. Way across the stadium in the lower tier, Mike from New York took a photo of it. Pete from San Francisco, too. I kept scanning the crowd to see if I had missed anything, any detail, any flag or banner…I couldn’t help but notice a block of about 25 empty seats in the Chelsea upper tier on the other side to me. I’d love to know how and why they never got sold. Very strange.

Everton came back into the game a little after the break, but our defence was rarely troubled. Essien had been replaced by Ballack and our dominance continued. With about twenty minutes to go, the ball broke to Frank and I wanted him to move it out to Malouda. What do I know? He stumbled, regained his balance and unleashed a belter past Howard.

The net bulged.

The Chelsea end, yellow and blue, erupted. I tried to take a few snaps of Frank celebrating, but the lens found it difficult to focus with all of the arms in the way. Hugs with Tom and Glenn. We were back in front in a repeat of the semi-final…1-0 down, 2-1 up. Lovely.

Soon after Lamps was booked for a silly dive – the only blot on another exceptional performance by him. JT may be our captain, but I think this season Frank has become our leader. The Malouda whizzbang shot looked like it didn’t cross the line, but it apparently did. Not to worry.

We waited for Howard Webb to blow the final whistle and it was a lovely moment when we heard that shrill sound.

I then took many more photos of the following thirty minutes…during the course of the day, I took around 275…I will put a lot of these on my Facebook page.

It was odd to see us playing in yellow, but on that perfect sunny day in North West London it just made it even more special.

“Yellows!”

What a wonderful time we had, clapping and singing, shouting our praises. I like to think that the appearance of Peter Osgood made all the difference – it was but a fleeting appearance as my flag had to be taken down as it was spoiling the view of the denizens in the Club Wembley seats.

JT lifted the cup and I snapped away. Silver and blue streamers floated down from the sky.

Snap, snap, snap.

“Blue Is The Colour” echoed around and, unlike 1984, the acoustics were very very loud. I love that song. Then “Blue Day” – memories of 1997. Then “The Liquidator” – the place rocking now. Lastly, “One Step Beyond” – I look back and there are Simon, Daryl, Alan and Gary doing a Nutty Boys Shuffle, with Milo doing a “Britain’s Got Talent” solo dance in the row in front.

Hilarious. Smiles all around.

At about 5.30pm, we eventually left, but I lost the others, too busy texting somebody or other. Out in the sun, smiles from Chelsea and songs from Everton. Detroit Bob bumped into me and then I found myself right behind Russ in the queue for the train. Good times. Russ had a ticket in the Everton end and had to bite his lips on many occasions.

The three of us caught the 6.15pm train back to Marylebone. I said to Bob that it was deathly quiet…I began singing

“We won the cup, we won the cup – ee-aye-adio, we won the cup.”

Apart from Bob, not a single Chelsea fan joined in.

“You should be ashamed!” I said. Not a flicker. Is this the club we have become?

We met up at the Duke Of York at 6.45pm…two more pints of Staropramen…lots of hugs and handshakes. Chelsea historian Ric Glanville was there – always a pleasant chap – and I had a few words. Chopper joined us and he was his usual ebullient self. Still blue skies overhead. However, Glenn and myself had a big dilemma. Our drive home was waiting for us at West Brompton. Damn! We finished our pints and shook hands with everyone.

“Love ya.”

We sloped off at 7.15pm. Detroit Bob was with us and he was headed down to The Bridge. By the time we had reached Marble Arch tube, he had talked us into crashing at his hotel on the North End Road…let the pub crawl continue! Glenn spoke to his wife Sara and all was cool. We took a 74 bus down to Earl’s Court and popped into The Prince Of Wales and then The Lillie Langtry where we met Dutch Mick and his crew. It was still only 8.30pm. We caught a bus down to The Bridge, expecting the place to be jumping.

What a let down. We popped into Frankie’s – formerly The Shed Bar – and there were only about twenty people inside. We had a beer and left. The whole of the Fulham Road appeared quiet and subdued.

A big disappointment! In 1997, the place was buzzing…there was a sofa in the middle of the road at Fulham Broadway I remember.

By this time, Glenn was past it, so we tucked him up for the night in Detroit Bob’s hotel, then back to The Lillie for a couple more. We ended up, inevitably, at Salvo’s at 11.30pm. More Peronis, more pizza, the game highlights on TV…Bob was still yakking but I was getting tired. As a nightcap, Salvo poured us out some grappa on the house and we eventually left at 2am.

It had been a great day.

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