Chelsea vs. Norwich City : 4 May 2014.
The Gang of Three was on the road again, aboard “The Chuckle Bus” for the last home match of season 2013-2014. With Parky sitting in the rear of Glenn’s VW camper, and yours truly alongside the driver in the front, we were all looking forward to seeing how the day’s events would unfold.
For once, chat between Glenn and I was all about football. This might seem a strange statement, but it is of course one of the great contradictions about our football life that although Chelsea is the reason why we have all found each other, very often it is all of the other things in our lives which dominate our conversations on match days.
Maybe it was our exit out of the Champions League on the previous Wednesday which stimulated our desire for footy chat; defeats and losses always seem to generate debate rather than victories and triumphs.
Glenn posed the question : “Looking back over the season, what is your main memory?”
I thought for a few minutes and answered.
“Apart from the wins at Manchester City and Liverpool, plus the wins against Arsenal and Tottenham, I think it was trying to fathom out Jose Mourinho throughout the season, trying to see where he is taking the club, trying to analyse his comments, trying to get inside his head.”
Although we admire the current batch of Chelsea players and although Roman controls the purse strings, this season it has felt that this is Jose’s club once again. From his initial “happy one” statements in the summer to his controlled reticence in the autumn, downplaying our chances throughout, to his occasional barbs at foes in the media, to his sudden outbreaks of surliness, to his comments about his players, his presence has been the overwhelming feature of this season. Sometimes he makes me cringe, sometimes he makes me smile. He is the master of the scripted sound bite, the whimsical aside, but also of the petrifying stare at those who have crossed him. He is fascinating character to have at the epicentre of our club.
Parky commented too.
“Just glad to be back, after missing so much of last season.”
Indeed. It seems like ages ago, but Parky hardly accompanied me on any away trips last season. It has been lovely to have him back in the fold.
It was Glenn’s turn.
“It’s our club again…after last season. There was fighting in the stands. Unrest. Jose has created unity.”
There is no denying that. Although the football hasn’t always been exciting to watch, there has been a genuine feeling of some sort of linear growth in 2013-2014.
So, we were back in SW6 yet again. With Glenn taking care of driving duties, I was able to relax and enjoy a few bevvies. In essence, I was Parky for one day. Shudder. Our first port of call was the bar in the Copthorne Hotel. Dennis, living life to the full during his week in England, joined us for a pint. The bar area was relatively quiet. I tut-tutted at the sight of a couple of Chelsea supporters wearing Star Wars face masks…well, no, I was rather more forthright.
“What the fcuk is that all about?”
Dennis quickly explained…”today is May the Fourth.”
I shook my head…”oh bloody hell.”
As we left the hotel, Glenn spotted Roy Bentley being ushered out in to the sunny May afternoon. He was with his family, celebrating his 90th. birthday a week or so early as a guest of the club. As Roy is originally from Bristol, I briefly mentioned the sad news about the relegation of Bristol Rovers from the Football League. A photograph of Roy with Dennis, Parky and Glenn was taken and we wished him well. I love the fact that Chelsea plays host to many of our ex-players each week.
Our next destination was “The Pelican”, but we were shocked at how quiet the place was. It was about 1.30pm, but the large bar only had around twenty customers. It is so strange how pubs wax and wane in popularity.
Next up “The Malt House” (aka “The Jolly Malster”) and this was dead, too. This established Chelsea boozer underwent a makeover – like many more in the immediate hinterland of Stamford Bridge – a few years ago, but now seemed to be full of diners rather than drinkers.
“The Goose” was a completely different story. The large bar and beer garden were crammed full of Chelsea supporters. Outside, the usual suspects were mid-session. The drinking continued under blue skies. A round of amaretto brought the inevitable “Alouette”
“Amaretto – Chelsea Amaretto.”
On the walk down to the ground, Parky, Dennis and I popped into “The Barrow Boy” (previously “The Hobgoblin” and “The Victualler” and “The Fulham Tap” – where the inaugural start-up meeting of the CST was held last season) for another shot of the almond-scented liquor.
As we walked past the entrance to the Fulham Broadway tube station, I happened to spot another Chelsea old-boy. It was Paul Canoville. The three of us have an evening with Canners – plus Pat Nevin and Doug Rougvie – lined-up in a couple of weeks down in Raynes Park and so it was lovely to see him ahead of that, to tell him how much we are relishing that night. We may not have a European final this season, but that will be a wonderful evening to see off season 2013-2014.
Inside Stamford Bridge, there seemed to be a post-Champions League hangover among the assembled masses. Even before the game began, there was a soporific air to the afternoon. The apparent fall-out between Mourinho and Hazard had resulted in our number seventeen being relegated to the bench. Demba Ba got the nod in attack.
Schwarzer, Ivanovic, Terry, Cahill, Cole, Lampard, Matic, Schurrle, Willian, Salah, Ba.
This was an altogether tedious affair; at least what I remember of it.
In the first-half, Andre Schurrle struck a firm effort against the far post, but all other chances are lost in the mists of time and fumes of alcohol. I remember being dismayed about the lack of support for the team in a game which we had to win to stand any chance of winning the league should both Liverpool and Manchester City falter in the final run in.
At the break, Mourinho replaced Frank Lampard and Mohamed Salah with David Luiz and Eden Hazard. Soon into the second-half, Brana tee’d up Luiz, who took aim at Ruddy’s goal. The Brazilian’s shot dipped and swerved, only for the ball to come crashing back into play off the bar. Soon after, Hazard appeared to be taken out of the game inside the Norwich box, but an offside decision was given instead. With each passing minute, there was growing concern that we wouldn’t be able to break Norwich down. The frustration among the fans must have filtered down on to the pitch. Despite overwhelming possession, we found it difficult to get behind the Norwich defence. At the other end, on a very rare break, a sublime block from Gary Cahill came to the rescue as Snodgrass shot.
Mourinho added Fernando Torres in to the mix; he replaced Matic. A few late chances were exchanged in the final few minutes, but almost out of sympathy for the watching thousands. It had been a very flat afternoon of football.
There had been a few boos as the teams left the pitch at the interval and, sadly, there were more at the final whistle too. Worse was to come. After a pause of around ten minutes, the Chelsea players returned for the usual “lap of appreciation.” I had stood and watched, with sadness, as thousands upon thousands of supporters decided to leave; as the players emerged, I felt so sad. I wanted to apologise. It was a horrible sight. There were row upon row of empty seats. The players, with their replica-kitted children following on, clapped us and although I returned the favour, I felt disjointed, apart, unsettled, and adrift.
Outside, Glenn and I met up with Parky and Dennis.
We dipped into “The Harwood” – where we used to do our drinking from 1995 to 2000 – and the game was soon forgotten. Dennis was in line for more Chelsea history.
“After the F.A. Cup Final in 1997, we all came back to Fulham Broadway for a celebratory drink, but the police had closed virtually every pub. This place was one of the very few open. Thankfully, we were served. There’s a photo of us – exhausted, euphoric, blissful – right where we are stood now. Fantastic memories.”
We joined up with the others for one last hurrah at “The Lillee Langtry.” One final beer, one final laugh, one final moan…
For some, this would be the final get-together of 2013-2014.
For a few, one game remains.
Over the bridge to Cardiff.
See you there.