Chelsea vs. Ajax : 22 October 2025.
Our second home game of the Champions League campaign was to be against the famous Ajax of Amsterdam, but this match report does not begin in either London or Amsterdam, but in Miami.
A month or so ago, UEFA “reluctantly” – their words, not mine – allowed the first-ever games to take place outside national European boundaries.
There was to be a game between Barcelona and Villareal in Miami, Florida and a game between Milan and Como in Perth, Western Australia.
Thankfully, on the morning of our game, it was announced by La Liga that their game would not be happening, and I – and hopefully most football supporters – was extremely happy. It felt like a glorious rebuff to the shady money-makers that lurk in and around football’s commercial landscape these days.
One down, one to go.
The Italian game might be a harder nut to crack, but let’s hope Serie A refuse to allow it too. The San Siro is being used for the opening ceremony of 2026 Winter Olympics, and I believe that the Milan directors are using this as an excuse to find an alternative venue for their home game with Como two days later. But surely, a venue swap should take place here? Milan are due to play Como at San Siro on 8 February 2026, while Como are at home to Milan on 21 December. Just swap the venues on those dates. Easy.
As an aside, Milan and Como are just fifty miles apart. How mad to expect their fans to travel to Australia.
This important parcel of football news dominated my early morning thoughts as I endeavoured to get some work done during another 6am to 2pm shift that would allow me to get up to London in good time.
However, I was rather tired, and it was all my own doing. The previous evening, I had decided to traipse over to Portishead to watch my local non-league team Frome Town tackle one of the early pace-setters Portishead Town. Rather than rest up and go to bed early on the Tuesday ahead of a very long day – 5am to 1am – I was lured to the game by the thought of Frome winning and us going top of the league for the first time this season.
The game itself wasn’t much to shout about; it was a niggly, physical battle played out on a 3G pitch at a very anaemic venue. Frome withstood some early pressure, but defended resolutely, and created a few chances, and settled for a deserved 0-0 draw. There were some road works on the return journey home, and I didn’t get in until just before 11pm.
I got through my work and collected Pinky and Perky at just after 2pm. I made good time en route to London.
I explained to the lads that I just wasn’t feeling much in the way of excitement for the evening’s game, and PD admitted the same feelings. With eight games in this phase, their just doesn’t seem to be the same degree of tension, drama and excitement in each individual match.
This new process features thirty-two teams. Eight make their way automatically to the first knock-out round in the New Year, while sixteen get a chance to qualify via an extra knock-out round. It honestly seems like it will take forever to unfold and be resolved.
When we won in 2012 and 2021, we played six group games, six knock-out games and the final, a total of thirteen games.
This season, should we win again, we could play up to seventeen games.
More games, more games, more games; it’s the UEFA way.
After my usual dip into “Koka” for some food – a few Dutch lads were eating outside – I joined everyone at “The Eight Bells”
Jimmy had lost his father, Stavros, a few weeks ago, and I toasted his memory.
We also toasted the memory of Matthew Harding, our former director, who perished on this night in 1996.
I have told my story about Matthew Harding before; meeting him in the Gunter Arms before our game with Viktoria Zizkov and then giving him the thumbs up from the East Lower, but Jimmy had a nice story too.
He had travelled up for our FA Cup game at Ayresome Park in January 1993, but only heard late on, when they were on Teesside, that the game had been postponed. They darted inside a local pub for a drink, and Matthew was in the pub too, and bought the Chelsea fans present a drink.
I have always said that Matthew would have loved these European nights, bless him.
RIP Stavros
RIP Matthew
Stamford Bridge was under a deluge of rain as we reached our allotted seats.
The news of the team had trickled through, and it was a mix of experience and youth, and one that surprised me a little. Only Romeo Lavia remained from the first half at Forest.
Jorgensen
Caicedo – Fofana – Tosin – Hato
Lavia – Enzo
Estevao – Buonanotte – Gittens
Guiu
Of course, there had been some recollections of our last meeting with Ajax; the pulsating 4-4 draw in 2019 and our recovery from 1-4 down, plus the agony of the disallowed goal from Dave very late on. There were no Ajax fans allowed at that game, so this would be their supporters’ first view of Stamford Bridge. In that game, I was so pleased to see Ajax in their world famous white and red kit. This time, we were not so lucky. They appeared in an insipid off-white number that was probably named after a frothy coffee variant that didn’t exist thirty years ago.
There was a timely mention of Matthew Harding before kick-off and the large flag bearing his image was floated over the heads of the spectators below us in the MHL.
The game began with us attacking The Shed, and very soon a respectful “One Matthew Harding” rang out from the stand that bears his name.
I must admit that it took me a few moments to realise that Caicedo was indeed an inverted right-back, and it looked a very fluid formation, with Buonanotte and Enzo playing well ahead of the other two in midfield.
Ajax had a little of the ball to begin with, but we soon started to dominate the play.
But we all waited for the first effort on goal from either team.
Ten minutes, eleven minutes, twelve minutes, thirteen minutes…it seemed that the lack of urgency in getting this first phase completed – the last of the knock-out games isn’t until 25 February – had transmitted to the players on the pitch.
“In your own time, lads.”
On the quarter of an hour, the game changed.
A lunging studs-up tackle by Kenneth Taylor on Facundo Buonanotte resulted a very quick VAR review, and then a red card.
Facunell.
Ajax were down to ten men.
Just after, a cross from the right from Buonanotte was ably headed back across the six-yard box by Wesley Fofana for Marc Guiu to stab home.
I turned to the bloke next to me – Alan from Wandsworth – and said “he needed that goal, great.”
In the immediate aftermath of the goal, I experienced the ache of having to endure “Chelsea Dagger” and I turned to the people behind me in the MHU and looked on in disgust.
Their actions were, indeed, a dagger to my heart.
(As an aside, I found no solace in the fact that the link that I posted to the “Stop This Shite” petition in one of my most recent match reports garnered just five clicks…)
However, my spirits were immediately lifted by two lovely text messages :
Alan, Sarf London : “THTCAUN.”
Josh, North America : “THTCAUN.”
I replied “COMLD.”
Game on, let’s go to work.
The first reaction from the home support was aimed at the Ajax manager John Heitinga, in lieu of our fine work on the banks of the River Trent a few days previously.
“Sacked in the morning. You’re getting sacked in the morning.”
Shots from Jamie Gittens and Caicedo were aimed at the Shed End goal.
On twenty-seven minutes, with Caicedo again within distance, the crowd yelled “SHOOOOOOT” and shooooot he did.
I was right in line with his effort but didn’t see the deflection that took the ball away from Remko Pasveer in the Ajax goal.
The net rippled, 2-0 to Chelsea, and a nice run down to Parkyville by the scorer.
I hoped for more goals.
Alas, on thirty-three minutes, during a rare Ajax attack, Tosin Adarabioyo tangled with Raul Moro, and the referee signalled a penalty.
Ex-Burnley and Manchester United loanee Wout Weghorst was rather lucky as his shot went under the full-length dive from Jorgensen.
The penalty was their first effort on goal.
The Matthew Harding serenaded the scorer with “you’re just a shit Andy Carrol” and this chant was often repeated during the game; in the second-half, Weghorst was defending a corner, and he gave a smile and a thumbs-up, a nice reaction.
On thirty-six minutes, a fantastic cross from Gittens on the left set up Enzo but he was unable to get a good-enough touch.
On forty-five minutes, Gittens to Enzo again, but our Argentinian was scythed down by Weghorst. His lunge was accompanied by a large splash of rain that could be seen from one-hundred yards away, though not quite as prominent as in the Tom Finney photo from 1956.
Enzo stroked the ball confidently in.
In the sixth minute of injury time, Estevao was tackled twice on the edge of the box, and at least one of these resulted in a penalty. If it was the second tackle, it looked outside the box.
Whatever.
Enzo gave the ball to Estevao, who confidently lifted the ball into the left-hand top corner.
Blimey, 4-1 at half-time, and three penalties.
By this time, I had been chatting to Alan alongside me, and we shared a few Chelsea stories. I told him about this blog, and he mentioned a podcast that he is involved in. I spoke a little about Frome Town and Alan said how he loves the non-league scene too. He referred to a good friend, Adam, who follows Derby County and Mickleover Sports. Well, what a small world. I know a lad from Frome who lives in Derby, follows Derby County and watches Mickleover Sports too. It turned out that my mate, Mark, who visited us in the Eight Bells last season when Derby’s FA Cup game at Leyton Orient was called off, knew of Alan’s friend Adam. They live very close to each oter, a few miles apart maybe.
Here was proof that football, yet again, is a very small world.
At the start of the second half, Enzo Maresca made three changes.
Trevoh Chalobah for Tosin.
Andrey Santos for Enzo.
Tyrique George for Guiu.
With the game surely won in the first half, the second period took on the feel of a friendly, or at least a training match, with Ajax encamped in their half for virtually its entirety.
After only three minutes, Lavia played in Andrey Santos but the ball held up for Tyrique George to score, again via a deflected shot. Alas, I didn’t catch his long slide into our corner, but I did capture the aftermath.
5-1 to Chelsea now, and game over.
The rest of the half involved us warming to the talents of Estevao and sitting back to hope for extra goals.
Estevao did not disappoint. He displayed some great control in tight areas, and almost netted with a goal from an audacious bicycle-kick and another from a powerful drive that was touched over by the Ajax ‘keeper.
Jamie Gittens endeavoured to screw a shot past Pasveer from down below us, but all his continued efforts never paid off.
Reggie Walsh, barely seventeen, came on for Lavia on sixty-five minutes.
Despite the ease at which we took Ajax apart, the noisiest chant of the night, “Carefree”, on eighty minutes, came as a shock and a surprise, out of the blue even.
Stamford Bridge had been quiet on this European night, a shame.
The Ajax fans had made some noise all night long and increased the volume and intensity as the game neared its conclusion. I had no idea what they were singing about though; no doubt that much of it was about the hated Feyenoord.
The game came to its conclusion. There had been plenty of goals in this week of Champions League football and it was nice to be able to join in.
PSG 7
Barcelona 6
PSV 6
Chelsea 5
Liverpool 5
Arsenal 4
Bayern 4
Borussia Dortmund 4
Inter 4
Maybe here is a clue why some supporters don’t mind this elongated phase before we reach the more dramatic style of UEFA football that I grew up with. Is there a tendency for teams to be able to relax, now, knowing that each game is not quite so important? Who knows? Answers on a postcard.
I was absolutely drenched on the walk back to the car but thankfully didn’t feel too tired – a miracle – and eventually made it home at exactly at 1am.
Everyone on social media was seemingly upbeat about the evening’s game with a lot of the focus on the youth in our team, not least the three young scorers.
Whether we are good enough to secure an automatic place into the fabled round of sixteen in March, yes March, remains to be seen.
Onwards!
CHELSEA/esque 