Brighton And Hove Albion vs. Chelsea : 16 December 2018.
On my return from Budapest on Saturday afternoon, I ended up battling almost four hours of treacherous weather on the motorways of south-east and then south-west England. There was no let up to the rain. By the time I reached home at around 6pm, I was exhausted. But the memories of Budapest buoyed me up. There was just time to run through some photographs from the trip and share them on “Facebook”, catch a little “Match of the Day” and then crash out at midnight. At 5.45am, the alarm sounded and the second instalment of “Budapest, Brighton and Bournemouth” began.
“Tiring stuff, this football lark.”
I collected PD at 7am and LP at 7.30am. And we up and running for only my third ever Chelsea away game at Brighton & Hove Albion. Billowing storm clouds appeared to the south over Salisbury Plain, and I feared the worst. Luckily, the weather was fine on the two-and-a-half hour drive down to Sussex-by-the-Sea. I had decided to park the Chuckle Bus at nearby Lewes and then take the train to Falmer, just a ten-minute journey. It seemed that other Chelsea fans had the same idea. We had kept bumping into the “Bristol Lot” – Julie, Tim, Brian, Kev, Sam and Chloe – over in Budapest and to our amusement, both of our cars arrived at the Lewes train station car park at exactly the same time.
“Are you following us?”
It was only £2.15 to park on a Sunday; result.
It seemed that parking at Lewes was a popular choice among the travelling support. In the five minutes it took to sort out payment at the ticket machine, I had said “hi” to fellow Chelsea fans Ian, Zac and Aki. Having a match ticket for the game at the Amex entitled the ticket holder to free travel on the train. What a great idea. This was going well. Even the publicised rain was holding off.
I had a good old walk around the stadium for the first time.
PD and LP popped in to the ground for a few pre-match liveners, while I waited outside the away end to sort out some tickets for fellow fans. There was a small contingent in from New York. It was lovely to see Alex again, who was over for the FA Cup Final in May, and his girlfriend Mariane. I met Dan, his girlfriend Shelly and also Anshu for the first time, even though – Chelsea World Is A Small World Part 814 – he was sat opposite us in the plane returning from Budapest.
I shook hands with a few good friends. Talk was of the song in Budapest. Regardless of anyone else’s thoughts about the right, or otherwise, of fans of our club or fans of Tottenham to sing a certain word, I know for a fact that one person is not pleased about it.
But this game in the town of Brighton – immoral to some, liberal to others – certainly threw up the potential for problems if some sections of our support were not wary of what they were saying, or singing. We had endured alleged, but unfounded, racism against Manchester City, had been accused of anti-Semitism out in Budapest, and now there was a risk of homophobic chanting (there was an admittedly small amount last season…) now in Sussex.
The media were out to see if we would trip ourselves up again.
It almost overshadowed the football.
But one thought had dominated the thoughts of many; Dan Levene had done himself absolutely no favours in his quickness to report the singing in Budapest. I don’t know the bloke. I have met him only very briefly at a CPO meeting in 2014. But it seemed that in the previous few days, it was evident that he was a journalist first and a Chelsea fan second.
Not good. Not good at all.
As I made my way into the roomy and airy away concourse and then the slight tier of blue seats in the away end, I noted a subdued air among the away support which numbered 2,500. I had swapped tickets around so people could be together. I was sat over to the right hand side of the goal, and was sat right next to Anshu.
Chelsea World Is A Small World Part 815.
I have said before how I like the stadium at Falmer. Quirky angles, different tiers, sloping angles, extra viewing platforms, it is quite different to the much-derided identikit design of Southampton or Derby or Middlesbrough. The West Stand to our left was surprisingly tall.
It was time to suddenly start thinking about the football. The team was a copy of the one that had vanquished the champions Manchester City.
Azpilicueta – Rudiger – Luiz – Alonso
Kante – Jorginho – Kovacic
Willian – Hazard – Pedro
Brighton in broad mid-blue and white stripes. Chelsea in all yellow.
I spotted the “Brightonia” banner in the same far corner as last season, with the “North Stand Kollective” tag added for good measure. The game brought together two different support bases for sure; Brighton with a notable leftfield, if not left-wing, support and Chelsea with a notable right-wing support.
I wondered how things would develop on the terraces as the game began.
In truth, maybe due to the early-afternoon start, everything was pretty quiet in the stands. In fact, as Chelsea completely dominated the play in that opening forty-five minutes, the home support was ridiculously quiet.
A David Luiz free-kick early on did not trouble Ryan in the Brighton goal. We slowly got into the game and began to move the ball well – and early – and were in control. It took a while for Eden Hazard to get into the game, playing between the lines, dropping deep occasionally, not left-wing, nor right-wing, a footballing maverick, but once he found his footing he was unplayable.
Kepa punched a string cross out of the danger area, but was otherwise quiet.
On seventeen minutes, Hazard weaved his magic in the inside-left channel, and turned the ball across the face of the goal, and with the ‘keeper stranded at the near post, the perfectly-timed run of Pedro resulted in the ball being smashed home.
Brightonia 0 Chelsea World 1.
There was a save from Kepa from Solly March, but chances – for all of our possession – were at a premium. Then, on thirty-three minutes, a blunder by a Brighton player was pounced upon by Willian who quickly pushed the ball on to Hazard. He advanced quickly – “damn this counter-attacking football” – and ran deep into the Brighton box. He drew the ‘keeper and slotted home to his right. It was a beautiful run and finish and Hazard leapt high in front of the silent home fans.
The North Stand Kollective 0 The South Stand 2.
The away fans chose a strange song to have a dig at the Brighton support :
“Champions of England, you’ll never sing that.”
The home fans could take no more of it. They hit us with a low body blow.
“A club full of racists, you know what you are.”
But everything else was subdued. It definitely felt like there was an uneasy quietness in the away section.
“You’re just a shit Crystal Palace” was as loud, and as vindictive, as it got.
A towering Rudiger leap at the far post resulted in a header missing the target. But at half-time, we were 2-0 to the good and all was well in the world. Kovacic was enjoying a good game, Luiz was splaying some lovely passes out of defence, and our forwards were testing the packed Brighton defence. We were in a good place.
Soon after the restart, a fine move and a cross from Dave on the right could not be touched home by Hazard. My viewing position was over by our left-wing, almost in a corner. It’s always a pleasure to see the speed of these top players. Willian and Alonso often combined but the final ball in was often delayed. Without a physical presence in the box, the ball was often played back to the “D.”
There was a moment of hilarity in the ranks when the ball was played back to David Luiz and he had time to touch the ball, but then purposefully took a moment to sweep his hair back from over his eyes – “yeah, you sort yer hair out first.” I can’t imagine Ron Harris doing the same.
Marcos Alonso struck a thunderous shot against the post from twenty yards out. A third goal would have killed the game there and then.
This seemed to breath some life into Brighton, who until that moment were looking a very poor team, not worthy of their creditable mid-table position.
On a couple of occasions, a Brighton attacker was free to jump unhindered at the far post but, thankfully, with little consequence. Then, on sixty-six minutes, a long cross from the Brighton right was met with another towering header at the back stick and March did well to spin and turn to guide the ball in.
Brighton & Hove 1 Hammersmith & Fulham 2.
Ruben Loftus-Cheek replaced Pedro and looked to cause a few problems with his directness.
Ross Barkley replaced Mateo Kovacic, but then failed to impress, shooting ridiculously high from distance.
I optimistically opined “that’s just a sighter, he’ll get better.” Sadly, he didn’t. We had heard that Southampton were beating Arsenal a few counties along the South Coast, and things began to get nervy in the away end. Thankfully, unlike in Budapest, nobody left early.
Olivier Giroud replaced Eden Hazard, who had surprisingly stayed on after getting clumped a good fifteen minutes earlier.
The home fans were baying for blood in the final five minutes when Alonso seemed to stop March in his tracks, but he remained on the pitch. We held our breath, but March wasted the free-kick. Brighton certainly had a little late rally but we held on.
Arsenal had lost in Hampshire. We had won in East Sussex.
Brighton keep the bar area open after games as they acknowledge that there is a royal scrum down to get on to trains at the nearby station. This is a very wise move. We were able to relax and enjoy a pint of lager. We chatted to a few pals from near and far. Johnny12 and Jenny12, plus Sujin, from California had enjoyed the visit to Sussex by the Sea. There was one young Chelsea fan who – on his own – blurted out “Barcelona, Real Madrid” but was immediately “hushed” by his little band of mates.
Good. We had policed ourselves well all day. I had commented earlier that we can, as a collective, police ourselves. It has happened once or twice before before. Back in around – when? 2007? – when “The Bouncy” first made its appearance on the Chelsea, mainly away, terraces, the version (mirroring the Rangers original), involved the words “if you don’t do the bouncy, you’re a Y-Word.” Over time, and I am not sure if there was any defining reason for the change, this segued into “bounce in a minute, we’re gonna bounce in a minute.”
The infamous Morata song, aired only really at Leicester last season, soon died out too.
So, it can be done. We just need to find another word that rhymes with Madrid.
We were ushered out of the stadium and walked slowly down the ramp to the Falmer Station. There was time, as we waited to catch the 5pm train to Lewes, for the best burger, thus far, of the season.
I had enjoyed Brighton. It had been another fine away day. Sadly, the rain returned on the drive west, and as I eventually reached home at about 9pm, I was again exhausted.
Budapest, done. Brighton, done. Bournemouth, next.
The story continues.