Tales From A Wake-Up Call

Chelsea vs. Newcastle United : 2 May 2012.

As I drove from Chippenham to London with Parky, I was well aware that there was a feeling of impregnable invincibility in the air. After the flurry of our recent results, the goals and the glory, I honestly felt that we could make a good stab at winning all five of our remaining games in this roller-coaster of a football season. I was confident of winning the next four, at least. The last one, our sixty-sixth game of the season – and my fifty-eighth – might be beyond us, but I was gung-ho about the others. Yes, I know what everyone is thinking; this unfamiliar optimism was most unChelsea, but it is amazing what a run of success brings to the zeitgeist around any football club. Football is surely all about confidence.

This would be my last midweek venture up the M4 motorway this season. I commented to Parky how different the midweek games are compared to the weekend ones. I prefer the weekend games, but I must admit there is no better feeling than heading out of Chippenham on the A350 with the stresses of a working day behind me and Chelsea in my thoughts.

It is very fortuitous that I work in Chippenham. Admittedly, the daily commute is 45 minutes in length, but Chippenham is but a mere ten minutes from junction 17 of the motorway. Once on that road, I can hurtle along and be parked up on a good day in two hours. Just right for a Carling Cup game, a Champions League game or a midweek league game. If I worked 45 minutes to the south or west of my home down in Yeovil or Langport or somewhere, the midweek scramble to Stamford Bridge would be almost impossible. So – I’m a lucky chap.

And this was a good day. I collected Lard Porky at 3.45pm and we strolled into The Goose at 5.45pm. On the drive to London, we briefly chatted about plans for those remaining games of the season. It’s hard to believe that 2011-2012 is nearing completion. It seems only yesterday that we were down at Fratton Park for that celery-ridden friendly back in July.

I was surprised to see a smattering of black and white Newcastle shirts in the boozer, but I wasn’t bothered. I must admit to having a slight soft-spot for Newcastle United and I think I have alluded to this in the past. My first ever Chelsea game took place on a sunny March afternoon in 1974 against The Geordies and our paths seemed to cross all the time in my youth and on into my twenties. Our time in the second division from 1979 to 1984 provided some gorgeous memories (I saw three Chelsea vs. Newcastle games in this period) and set the trend for our magnificent home record against them which has continued on ever since. Our last home league defeat against the Tynesiders was in November 1986.

Although I remember a lot of “Chelsea stuff” without the need of memory aids, let me dip into my diary once again to pick out a few salient points from that Chelsea vs. Newcastle United game on Saturday 22nd November 1986. That particular game was my 91st Chelsea game, but already my 7th game against The Geordies. By the way, Newcastle have only been called The Toon (outside of the North-East, at any rate) since around 1990. Back in those days, they were simply Geordies. It’s funny how nicknames come and go. Insert “The Chels” reference here.

I travelled down by train from Stoke-on-Trent to London on that November morning. At Euston, I noted that a mob of Manchester City casuals jumped over the barriers at the tube station down below the mainline station en route to Highbury. Although City’s firm were called “The Guvnors” back in those days, I’m pretty sure they used to have a splinter faction called “The Maineline.” It was often the fashion for followers of teams in the north-west to travel down to London on trains with no train tickets and attempt to “blag” their way south. The bundling over the tube barriers was just a manifestation of this. Pre-match was typically spent wandering around the clothes and record shops of the West End. On this particular day, I spotted a new Cocteau Twins album and I purchased a lime green Marc O’Polo sweatshirt from their flagship store at Covent Garden. Marc O’Polo, a German company, was well-favoured by the football lads around this time. It died out at football around 1990, but I’m always tempted to get some more of their gear. Who wants to join me? Football fashion had gone from lurid sportswear in 1983-1984 to a more mature look in 1984-1985. In 1986-1987, it was all black leather jackets, Reebok trainers, Hardcore jeans (remember them?) and Armani pullovers.

Pre-match was spent in “The Crown & Sceptre” near “Harrod’s” and I then walked down the Fulham Road before a pint in the more working class “George” at Chelsea. I chatted to a few members of the Yeovil supporters’ group before meeting up with Alan. He too had seen the new Cocteau Twins’ album. It must’ve been the “Victorialand” album; a more ambient sound, subtler, gentle and soothing. Alan and I watched from The Benches, along with our friend Leggo, who sadly doesn’t go anymore, and Mark, who does (he got a mention in the Barcelona report last week.) The gate of 14,544 included around 1,000 Geordies. Gordon Durie gave us a 1-0 lead, but Newcastle came back strongly to win 3-1. The crowd were baying for the demise of manager John Hollins at the end and Alan’s opinion was that he would resign. He lasted until the Spring of 1988, in fact. Alan, Mark and I have lasted considerably longer.

Little did we know that the 3-1 defeat handed out to us by the likes of Peter Beardsley and co on that day in 1986 would be the last league defeat for years and years and years…

No wonder I like Newcastle United.

Parky and I grabbed some pints and wandered off into the beer garden in search of some mates. For the first time that I can recall, a bloke was set up to sell T-shirts and friendship scarves for the European Cup Final in Munich. Amongst the little gaggle of friends, Munich was unsurprisingly garnering all of the attention. One chap from Bristol – Clive – had already collected his ticket from the box office; he opened up his wallet to allow me a slight peek. Unlike the red of the Moscow ticket, I am heartened by the blue, white and yellow of the 2012 edition. It got me thinking about Munich. Bayern are not the only team in the city. The suburban team of Unteraching have recently played in the Bundesliga, but the “other” team in the Bavarian city is TSV1860, a famous old team, who share the Allianz Arena with Bayern, just as they used to share the Olympic Stadium previously. TSV’s colours of light blue and white match the colours of the Bavarian flag and I well remember that during our over-achieving ECWC campaign of 1994-1995, a few 1860 fans followed Chelsea to stadia in the Czech Republic, Austria, Belgium and Spain. On one of my two visits to Munich’s magnificent Oktoberfest, I remember chatting in very broken German to an old Polish guy from Munich who was an 1860 fan. Ironically, I think this alcohol-fuelled chat took place in the Lowenbrau tent and, of course, the Lowenbrau logo features the blue and white diamonds of the Bavaria crest too. Daryl has already carried out some reconnaissance work on Munich for 19 May and we spoke briefly about a beer hall which could act as our base camp for the day’s activities.

Two guests from across the pond soon arrived. Chris Cruz – aka captdf – and Ben Horner – aka NUhusky13 – spent a very enjoyable hour or so with us in the beer garden. I had met Chris in 2008-2009 and Ben in 2010-2011 and it was a pleasure to welcome them back into the bosom of Chelsea Football Club. Chris explained how his daughter Ava had enjoyed her first ever match at The Bridge – the humiliation of QPR on Sunday – and that it is a wonderful feeling to witness the attractions of a foreign city through the eyes of a child. I will no doubt feel the same with Glenn in Munich.

“Look Chris – a big glass of beer!”

“Look Chris – a hot dog!”

Ben, newly arrived from Boston mid-morning, was holding up well in spite of a little jet lag. There was the usual pre-match banter, but typically no talk whatsoever of the game.

“I respect the etiquette” said Ben, who was sporting a natty Boston Blues / CIA top.

The time flew past and it was 7pm. I had to shoot down to meet Steve outside the tube. I waited for him by the CFCUK stall and I spotted more red and blue scarves for Munich. Bizarrely, Mark had a replica of the European Cup on his stall. Steve soon arrived and we were off.

It was a pretty mild evening, but with horrible drizzle and a blustery wind. Inside The Bridge, there were 1,500 away fans and two away flags. Newcastle, despite some legendary numbers in that 1983-184 season, have not brought more than 1,500 down to a league game at Chelsea for ages. I always note away followings. I think it is a true sign of the size of a club, perhaps more so than home attendances. Who regularly fills out the maximum 3,000 at Chelsea? The usual suspects. Manchester United, Liverpool, Tottenham Hotspur, Arsenal and West Ham United. No more than these, season after season. Aston Villa? Everton? Manchester City? Leeds United? Sunderland? Forget it. They only bring 1,400 or 1,500. And yet I’d suggest that Chelsea regularly take maximum amounts to 90% of our away venues. I’d say that we are up there alongside United, Liverpool, Arsenal and Spurs as the top five supported clubs in England away from our home stadia.

And I love that. I love our away support. It helps define us as a club, more so than the thousands who turn The Bridge into a morgue at times. I remember the abuse that Evertonians and Manchester City fans gave us this season when we didn’t fully fill our 3,000 allocations. And yet, as I have pointed out, when was the last time either of those “massive” clubs ever brought the maximum down for a league game? City may win the league this year, but they only brought down 1,500 in December.

And these things count to me and people like me.

Football is all about showing up.

Another 41,500 showed up for this game and we were hopeful that di Matteo’s team changes would result in another win, a few more goals and another three points.

To be truthful, Newcastle United – still smarting from their heavy defeat at Wigan – were excellent and caught us off-guard, out of shape, lacking in desire and bereft of attacking nous. The insipid first-half was pretty dire, despite a strong start from the Boys In Blue From Division Two. A couple of half-chances for Chelsea and then a bicycle kick from Demba Ba threatened our goal. Ba impressed me for West Ham a year ago, but his season has been eclipsed by the arrival of Papiss Cisse, the Senegalese striker. The skilful Ben Arfa set up Cisse on 19 minutes and the Toon Goal Machine walloped the ball past Cech from 15 yards. It was a fine goal. He celebrated down in front of us and I was beginning to re-assess my friendliness towards Newcastle United.

Chelsea laboured against a resolute Newcastle defence and the crowd were not happy. It took until the 37th. minute for our next real chance when the always industrious Torres advance down the right and sent in a superb whipped cross towards the head of Florent Malouda, but the effort whistled past a post. From the resultant corner, Meireles lofted the ball into the six yard box but Ivanovic thundered the ball over from a position almost under the bar.

Then it was Newcastle’s turn. Ba wriggled away from his marker and struck low, but the lunging Cech managed to get a fingertip to the ball and divert it past the far post. Just before the half-time whistle, Ba hit the crossbar. This was clearly a tough Newcastle team and we were in for a massive fight to even get a draw, let alone a win. With so many team changes, our play struggled to flow. Malouda and Sturridge were especially poor.

At the half-time whistle, I listened for the boos and one fellow fan did not disappoint. The mean white haired bloke in his early ‘fifties who sits and bellows behind Gary could be heard booing as the teams traipsed off the pitch. He then mouthed an obscenity and I just looked at him with despair. I have mentioned him once before this season and I popped down to mention him to Big John and Young Dane. They both were aware of him. One of these days he’ll get a mouthful from all three of us.

He was a picture of festering displeasure and he acts as a totem for all that is wrong with our spoilt and blasé support in 2012. My late gran would comment, I am sure, that he had a face “like a hen’s ass.” He had the scowl that would curdle milk.

And one of these days, he’s going to get it.

Gus Poyet – he of two F.A. Cup semi-final goals against Newcastle in 2000 – was the guest at the break. I loved Poyet, but still haven’t fully forgiven him for moving to Tottenham, kissing their badge against us and then coaching at Tottenham.

Juan Mata came on for the woeful Sturridge at the break and we lived in hope. After a quiet opening, Malouda was replaced by Didier. Di Matteo was making all the right moves. An amazing “reverse-cross” from Torres was the first talking point of the half, but nothing came of the ball into the box. The impressive Tiote fell awkwardly from a jump alongside Mikel and there was concern when he stayed on the pitch for many minutes. It is always sad to see a stretcher appear. He was warmly applauded as he was taken off the field.

All eyes were on the scoreboard as updates from the Wigan vs. Spurs game came through, but with each goal, more moans. Fourth place was looking as likely as a Mikel goal. Another change; Frank Lampard for Raul Meireles. Meireles was undoubtedly one of the heroes in Catalonia but was now reduced to chasing shadows in SW6. The crowd were buoyed by the presence of the three big substitutions, but we still struggled. Hardly any effort of note troubled Tim Krull, who was eventually booked for continual time-wasting at goal kicks. In the 87th minute, a towering JT header from a corner was goal bound but Santon managed to head clear.

The fourth official signified a further ten minutes in light of the injury to Tiote. With Tottenham now enjoying a 4-1 win, our league season plunged into darkness when that man Cisse struck a swerving, dipping shot past the dumbfounded Petr Cech and into the Shed End goal. It was an amazing goal and I almost…almost…applauded it.

With that, thousands of Chelsea fans shamefully did a Tottenham and vacated their seats.

The Geordies were now in full voice.

“ E I E I E I O – Up the Premier League we go.”

“With an N and an E and a Wubble-You C, an A and an S and a T, L, E – U, N, I, T,E, D – Newcastle United FC.”

“Ah me lads, ye shud only seen us gannin’,
We pass’d the foaks upon the road just as they wor stannin’;
Thor wes lots o’ lads an’ lasses there, all wi’ smiling faces,
Gawn alang the Scotswood Road, to see the Blaydon Races.”

So – our first home league defeat to Newcastle since I was 21.

Only John Terry really bothered to applaud us at the end. It had been a lack-lustre performance by the boys for sure and Newcastle deserved the win. It will surely act as a reference point for our game with Liverpool on Saturday. No win is gained without due attention and effort. We must improve and surely will.

Outside, the supporters made a subdued walk past the hot dog stands and the souvenir stalls.

https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v…type=2&theater

The mood was somber, but with no real malice. We had bigger fish to fry this season.

After a slow trudge along the North End Road, Parky was waiting for me by the car. The rain fell as I ate up the miles on my return trip to the shires of Wiltshire and Somerset. I eventually reached home at 1pm and I soon searched the internet for footage of Cisse’s second goal.

Oh my.

It was often said, in jest, with irony, with sarcasm, that whenever Chelsea were knocked out of the FA Cup each year, we could at least “concentrate on the league.”

How ironic then, that as our faltering pursuit of the cash cow that is fourth place comes to an end, we can now utter the words – and truthfully, too :

“Oh well – we can now concentrate on the cups.”

Four games left. Two Cup Finals.

Who are we? We are Chelsea. Let’s go to work.

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