Tales From Italy

Posted on July 21, 2013 by Chris Axon

Roma vs. Chelsea : 4 November 2008.

Part One.

Greetings From Rome. Just time to post a few things before we soon set off by cab for the Villa Borghese – all of the official coaches are shuttling us up from this park area to Stadio Olimpico from 5pm onwards… Actually, just before I logged on, we had a ridiculously intense rain shower, with deafening thunderclaps echoing around the city streets. Let’s hope we don’t get too soaked tonight. I have my VINCI PER NOI banner with me, but doubt if I will take it to the game – too concerned that the police will steal it. It has been a nice and realaxing time. The weather yesterday was phenominal – we took a nice leisurely stroll down to The Coloseum – weather in the ’70s, blue skies…then a saunter around a few shops, then a lovely meal on Via Sestini in the evening. I am here with Alan and Gary – but Bob from California is staying in the same hotel as us…he is here with his wife…and enjoying every minute of it. The weather was worse today…grey skies, but at least not cold. We did a bus tour from 11am to 3pm – delayed by two hours as the bus driver hit not one, but two, cars within the first 30 minutes. Typical Italy. We hardly saw any Chelsea yesterday – maybe 10 the entire day…the troops are gathering though…we had a beer near the main train station at 3.30pm and we were joined by about twenty Chelsea towards the end. Chelsea – the players and management – are staying at the Waldorf, across from the Vatican, apparently. Hell – it’s raining again. Best go back upstairs, sort out my matchday clobber and arrange to meet Bob and the boys. Hopefully, a great game and a victory report to follow later…

Part Two.

A great trip – apart from the football – but when has Chelsea ever only been about the football? Back at the hotel for a quiet hour before we catch the airport express from Termini. Not much to be pleased about from last night…I have just purchased the pink Gazetta sports paper and they gave the best marks to Frank and JT…both with a 6. It is so typical for the Italians to not get over-excited with their player rankings…I have been following Italian football for the best part of thirty years and you hardly ever see a 9, let alone a 10…virtually a perfect performance. Whereas, in the UK, you often find 9s and 10s all over the place. The Italians – for once – quite conservative and pragmatic. My top mark went to Frank – always involved. Thought Alex was OK. But Roma’s attacks seemed to flow a lot better. No, I’ll leave the match reports to others. Seriously – it HAS been a good trip, and one which I will hopefully type up in greater depth tomorrow, probably quite late on. We reckon only about 1,200 Chelsea came out…always lovely to see a few familiar faces though. Following Chelsea away in Europe is like going en masse with some weird family every few months…all the odd aunts and uncles, the boistourous kids, the characters…we don’t always get on, but we always look after each other. One of the first faces we saw out here, down by The Coloseum, was Lovejoy – and after a very full and comical build up to this living and breathing Chelsea legend, Bob eventually got to meet him at the game last night. We’ll let Bob comment on all that! The weather has been great again today – blue skies and sunny weather…we had a mooch about the area by the Spanish Steps and the Trevi Fountain…and I had the most luxurious chocolate ice cream ever. Dipped into a nice clothes shop on the walk back up to our hotel – and all three of us have picked up some cracking bargains, which will be worn as soon as possible at Chelsea with any luck. In closing this second section, with a nod to the events in America, let’s just say that at least one Blue Team had a successful result yesterday.

Part Three.

Is anyone still reading this? So – my three days in Rome…what else to say? Firstly, some background – this was about my eighth trip to The Eternal City. First visited in 1986, Inter-Railing, slept at the train station…the things you do when you are young, eh? I travelled extensively on the European train network between 1985 and 1990 – my wanderlust years – but I can’t ever remember being so excited about visiting a new city as that first arrival in Rome on a summer evening in 1986. I can still remember standing in the train corridor, peering out of a window, the cypress trees and the tower blocks, glimpses of ruins here and there. I only stayed about twenty hours that first time…Coloseum, Vatican, Olympic Stadium…I knew my priorities alright! So fast forward twenty two years. Gary, Alan and myself caught the 7am Easyjet from LGW and were soon booking in to the hotel near the Termini station…not a very salubrious part of town in past years…the homeless and the helpless used it as a base…drug addicts, trannies, prostitutes. It seemed a bit better in 2008. Despite warnings of severe storms, the weather on Monday and also Wednesday was sublime…temperatures of around 70 degrees. On Monday lunchtime, we walked down to The Coloseum, the number one location in my book. We stopped off at a café in a piazza and had a couple of very expensive sandwiches ad beers apiece. We fell in love with virtually every woman we saw. Black still seems to be the colour in Italy. We noted black leather boots being worn by many of the signorini. Oh my goodness. The Italians dress with such style. I said to the boys – “no girls wearing tracksuits, trainers and a complete absence of the colour pink.” They can teach us all a lesson. Virtually the first person we saw from the Chelsea family – right outside The Coloseum – was Lovejoy, with his “girlfriend” ( cough, cough ) on tow. Of all the people. He recommended that we visit the restaurant I have mentioned – on Via Sestina, between Piazza Barbarini and the Spanish Steps – it was owned by a Pavarotti lookalike. Alan and Gary popped into The Coloseum – I had visited it in 1990, so just stayed outside, watching the sights wobble past. The Coloseum is right in the heart of the historic epicentre of the city, adjacent to the Forum and the Circus Maximus. I just sat and daydreamed. “Rome – it’ll be nice when it’s finished.” We returned back to the hotel, showered, met up with Bob and his wife – then caught a cab down to Barberini at 7.30pm. We immediately spotted said Luciano lookalike outside his restaurant, enticing punters in. The restaurant was cozy and crowded…we were ushered into a little room, through the kitchen, right underneath rows of wine bottles. The waiters were ebullient and charming. Luciano was wearing a Burberry hat, so I christened him “Chavarotti.” We had a lovely meal – pasta, pizza, Peroni – and Alan regaled Mr and Mrs Bob with humorous Chelsea anecdotes, most involving Lovejoy. Great times. I first met Bob in Palo Alto in 2007 – who would have thought his fifth ever Chelsea game would be in Rome? After the meal, we met up with Rob down by the Trevi Fountain, then spent a few minutes trying to locate a cheap bar. There were hardly any Chelsea around to be honest. Two other lads – Andy and Davey – joined us…as the night wore on, the Chelsea stories got funnier, then serious, past games were recounted…but the focus was on us, the fans, rather than the players. This is typical. Davey said he had been outside St. Peter’s with two friends…when, with perfect timing, a geezer in a Spurs shirt walked by…”has the pope told you to fuck off mate?” they shouted. The beer was bloody expensive, though…maybe just as well…at least we weren’t hungover the next morning. We got a cab home. Big Al had bought some grapes and was reclining on his bed eating them. He only needed a toga to resemble a modern day Caeser. “When in Rome.” Up at 9am and a breakfast in the hotel. We decided to take a double-decker bus tour for 18 euros…this was great, but we were delayed by 90 minutes when our coach hit two vehicles. Just typical. There was pure street theatre on the second one – the young driver of the BMW was full of Latin gestures and not wishing to back down because he was with his, lovely, girlfriend. It took ages to resolve. “This place wasn’t built in a day you know.” We went past all the main sights. It was a grey day, but still warm. I saw a lot of Rome I hadn’t previously seen. We had a light meal, then met up with Bob at the hotel. I posted “Part One.” The heavens had well and truly opened. Incredible sight – and sound. We got a cab to an area of parkland to the immediate north of the centre called Villa Borghese. Around 15 coaches were waiting for us. We arrived there at 6pm, but didn’t leave for the stadium until about 7.45pm. The rain was still falling – we heard rumours of a pitch inspection. A tense time. Met a few faces. Eventually, the coaches set off and, with police van sirens wailing and motorbikes zigging in and out, we set off through the wet Roman streets for the Stadio Olympico to the north of the city. We passed through two long tunnels…we were taken way north of the stadium, then into a secure area behind the Curva Nord ( the Lazio end. ) On my only other previous visit to Rome for a game, in 1999, we had played Lazio and had been allocated the other end. Still the rain fell. At last Bob was able to meet Lovejoy, who was holding court outside the entrance to the seats. I took a few nice shots of us all, with the glow of the floodlights behind and above. I was told to sit down by two chaps behind me as the game began. Ho hum. We only had about 1,200 present, but I recognised loads of faces. I began texting a few folk. Thought our support – in terms of the singing – was poor. Saw Cathy and Dog arrive. With about twenty minutes gone, around 50 of the firm arrived en masse and around five had bloodied faces, the victims of a police onslaught. The sight of these chaps, in their fifties a lot of them, bloodied and bruised, cast a dark shadow for a few moments. They weren’t paying too much attention to the game. Thought the boys had a lot of the ball in the first half – we had a few corners, eh? But there was no cutting edge. I was sat with Bob and I could feel his frustration. Unlike the Lazio game in 1999, there wasn’t much of a re-game show from the ultras in the Curva Sud. A few stray firecrackers, with billowing smoke. A cheesey club anthem on the PA. A banner which said “F*ck The Queen.” Terrible marking and Panucci, of all people, scored. We then imploded and were as poor as I can remember for quite a while. But I was disappointed with the lack of support from us in our high section on the NW curve. Our performance, like the night, was a damp squib ( whatever a squib is…) I was hoping for a pulsating game for Bob, with both sets of fans in good voice. Even after the catastrophic third goal, the Roma fans weren’t exactly bringing the house down. The JT goal, the Deco sending off – the game going away from us. We played the last ten minutes with only two at the back. My two “friends” behind hadn’t uttered a word of support the entire game, had talked about rugby, motor racing, work and cameras throughout…and left with 20 minutes to go. Why do these idiots bother? We were kept in for a full hour and forty minutes at the end of the game. Roma kindly played us the 2007-2008 season DVD while we were waiting, minus the sound. There was a fleeting, haunting image of Mourinho on the screen, high above rows and rows of royal blue seats…a surreal sight. Back to Termini on a convoy again. The 1,000 Chelsea fans fled into the night. We made a half-hearted attempt to find a bar to ease our spirits, but gave up. Bed at 1am. The last day was spent eating more glorious food – a wonderful ice cream – chilling out, wandering the busy city centre streets. We ended up in a great shop on the Via Nazionale and we all came away with bargains. I bought a couple of super-light cotton CP Company shirts for 70 euros each…just the ticket. We heard Bob had raided the very same shop earlier…he was by now en route to Barcelona, the next city on his mini tour of Europe. I posted “Part Two” in the hotel foyer and we then caught the airport train just as the sun was setting over the seven hills.

“Arrivederci Roma.”

Tales From A Wet And Windy London Town

Posted on July 21, 2013 by Chris Axon

Chelsea vs. Sunderland : 1 November 2008.

So – Game Number 701.

The weather was pretty miserable on the drive up from Frome…or “Dodge” ( as in Dodge City ) as a few people now call it…a bit of a Wild West town, we like to think.

It’s the usual drive up to London – through the rugby heartland of SW London, past Twickenham ( England play there ) and the home grounds of Harlequins and London Scottish. As we approach Chelsea, we drive past Queens Club, home of the pre-Wimbledon tennis tournament. We drive along Lillee Road, too – one of the original sites of the F.A.Cup final, way back in the nineteenth century.

I had arranged to rendezvous at the Chelsea Hotel with Bob from Fremont, CA and Jamie from Richmond, VA. We arrived at 11.30am – and I soon spotted Bob outside the Megastore. I had arranged a little treat for Bob and Jamie – Ron Harris used to live near us in the West Country and we got to know him over the last 14 years. I had spoken to him on Tuesday and he was happy to meet them in the hotel bar area. Bob was “in” on this, but Jamie ( this was her first ever Chelsea game ) wasn’t. I waived to Jamie for her to come upstairs to join us.

A “proper” Chelsea welcome!

Glenn and myself chatted to Ron, catching up on a few things, and Bob and Jamie were photographed with Ron. As luck would have it, Bob was able to purchase a Ron Harris testimonial programme from one of the stalls on the Fulham Road – which was duly signed. Ron signed Jamie’s match programme. With these formalities finished, Glenn disappeared off to The Goose, while I popped into the lovely Fox & Pheasant pub, just over the railway bridge. I usually take visitors on a circumnavigation of the ground, pointing out various things, but as the weather was so poor, we headed inside. I did have time to point over to The Butcher’s Hook pub, opposite the main gates, where our club was formed in 1905.

I was kinda falling over myself with “Chelsea Facts” – trying to make Jamie, especially, feel at home. Maybe I should think about pre-printed fact sheets to hand out!

Then the long march down the Fulham Road to Fulham Broadway, then up the North End Road to The Goose. It was packed, everyone squashed together, chatting and drinking. There really is no better place to be. I rentroduced Bob to the members of the Bada Bing Firm, as we humourously ( ? ) call ourselves…Bob had met all of the boys before the ill-fated Carling Cup Final last season. Jamie stayed for one drink, but – not surprisingly – wanted to get inside the ground nice and early. I will be seeing Jamie again at Blackburn and so will be able to bombard her with more Chelsea trivia then!

Bob had been present at the Paul Canoville book signing on Friday and very kindly bought me a signed book. I was well-pleased! I am relishing reading this book – it was shortlisted for the Sports Book Of The Year, but I heard it missed out on the final six. A shame.

Anyway, needless to say that there was the usual barrage of blokey, jokey banter during the two hours ” pre-match.” Bob secured a ticket for the game in Rome on Tuesday – he is travelling out ahead of Alan, Gary and myself, but we are all staying in the same hotel.

Alas, it was soon time to leave the warm confines of the pub. We did up our coats and battled against the elements as we re-traced our steps back towards the ground. I bought Bob the latest copy of CFCUK – an article by Clint Steele struck a chord with me…he requested that we petition the club for a different Chelsea pensioner to lead the team out each week. A fine idea.

As Bob and myself went our seperate ways – “see you in Rome” – he commented that it seemed almost wrong for people to be allowed to have this much fun. I knew exactly what he meant.

I guess you all saw the game. We overpowered Sunderland and completely dominated. Has there ever been a game in which all five Chelsea goals came from virtually inside the six yard box? I have to say, though, after watching the highlights on TV, we did ride our luck…the second goal was offside.

The Shed definitely won the singing – the Matthew Harding seemed quite subdued. I noted a fantastic new banner draped over the Shed balcony…an image of Peter Osgood with the simple message…

“BORN IS THE KING.”

Classy and a lovely tribute.

From a personal perspective, and Alan agreed with me, this game ( once we were 3-0 up ), this seemed like an appetiser ( an anti-pasto ) for the mammoth game in Rome.

Good to see Drogba return.

I took a series of photographs of Frank celebrating his 100th league goal right in front of us. Keep a look out for those on my Facebook page.

Bob texted me ‘training session” and I knew exactly what he meant.

We had heard that the Goons had lost at Stoke – STOKE! As Karen battled against the driving rain on the drive home, Glenn and myself fell asleep in the back seat. I was awoken by the commotion of a Spurs equaliser against Liverpool…only to be bettered by the late winner. Good old Tottenham!

I texted everyone –

“CHELSEA – TOPOTHELEAGUE.”

A lovely result – our goal difference is now superb – and I’m off to Rome on Monday morning.

Life is good. Life is very good.

Tales From The Roman Road

Posted on July 21, 2013 by Chris Axon

Hull City vs. Chelsea : 29 October 2008.

Another lovely Chelsea away game.

As one record comes to an end, maybe we can seriously consider going on a long league unbeaten run, but away games this time. When was the last defeat away from SW6? Arsenal away last December. Let’s go for it – that will certainly make up for the sadness of losing the home record at 86 games.

Due to another “blip” on the Premier League fixture list, I had to take a day off to accommodate the 450 mile round trip to the delights of Humberside. Well, that makes it all sound like a bit of a hardship, but nothing can be further from the truth.

I had a leisurely start to the day and left Frome at 11am. I had decided to give the motorway network a miss for once and travel up to Hull via the “back roads.” For some games in the North, I travel up over The Cotswolds and I had decided to continue this route up to Lincoln and then take an A road up from there. I just get bored with the monotony of the M1. The road I join just north of Chippenham is the A429 and runs on the course of the old Roman road from Exeter to Lincoln…the Fosseway. It’s a beautiful road, linking a lot of gorgeous market towns in Gloucestershire. From Lincoln, I would then head north on the A15, which is another Roman road…Ermine Street. It’s pretty amazing to be driving along these oh-so straight roads, knowing that in around 50BC, centurions were marching up and down these same routes. In some sections, the route of the original Fosseway disappears for a few miles.

With all this in my mind, I had to smile when the first track on my car CD player, as I set off, happened to be the Depeche Mode version of “Route 66.”

The sun was out, blue skies ahead – a perfect day for driving. I called in to work for twenty minutes to check emails and a coffee refill, but was soon on my way. However, the weather soon clouded over as I hit Malmesbury, but there was no rain all of the way north. As I hit the Fosse just north of Cirencester, I switched to a Japan CD…those synthesisers from 1980 and 1981 seemed to be a bit incongruous as I drove past hundreds of orange and red autumnal trees…but it was a perfect mix for me. A bit stark. Very atmospheric. How I love life on the road.

The Cotswolds towns came and went…Stow On The Wold, Moreton In Marsh, each with buildings made of gorgeous yellow stone.

My mates Alan, Gary, Ed, Simon and Milo were travelling up to Hull on the free Chelsea club train.

Alan and myself text each other with cryptic clues of our whereabouts and so it began like this –

Chris “Jack Kerouac” On the road
Alan “Casey Jones” On the train

As I neared Warwick, the Cotswolds yellow stone gave way to red Midland brick and I spotted the remnants of the previous night’s snow along some hedgerows. I was making slow progress, so avoided Leicester by taking the M69 up to Leicester. By the way, Leicester City’s original name was Leicester Fosse.

Chris “Piggott” Leicester
Alan “Monsters Of Rock” Knebworth

I joined up with the Fosse again just north of Leicester, making good time now.

Chris “Pork Pie” Melton Mowbray
Alan “Eczema” Hitchin

I was really enjoying this trip. I had only ever travelled on this road once before – the same time of the year in 1973, when my parents and myself drove up to stay my half-term week with Grimsby with friends. Thirty-five years ago. Unbelievable.

Alan “Barry Fry” Peterborough
Chris “Graham Taylor” Lincoln

I bypassed the historic city of Lincoln ( I was tempted to write “Abraham” but continued the football manager theme ), the towers of its cathedral visible to my right. I was now travelling due north on Ermine street, heading for Scunthorpe and Hull. The sun was disappearing behind some clouds to my west, the Lincolnshire Wolds ( hills ) were to my east, I drove over the Humber Bridge, just as Alan texted me again.

Alan “Thatcher” Grantham
Chris “4” Hull

Ah, Hull – the great unknown city. Until this season, it was allegedly the largest conurbation in Europe which had never hosted top flight football. I had only visited it once during that 1973 trip. It has certainly been more of a rugby league city in the past…( Hull – or intriguingly known as Hull FC – in the west and Hull Kingston Rovers – or Hull KR – in the east…big rivals. ) Hull FC share the KC Stadium with Hull City, Hull KR have their own, shabbier, stadium, still. The main approach into Hull is named after one of the city’s leading rugby heroes, Clive Sullivan.

Alan “Osmond” Doncaster

I parked up. Hell, it was cold. It had been a perfect day thus far and there was a special reason I was pleased…this game would be my 700th lifetime Chelsea game and so I was happy it was all going to plan. I was in no doubts we would come away with the three points.

Alan “Get Some In” Selby

I only think that Expats will be able to “get” a few of these cryptic teasers!

Sat down at “Nandos” for a 700 Game Meal. The business. Then out into the cold and the twenty minute walk to the bright lights of the KC Stadium. The locals were warming their hands as they were eating some fish and chips outside a chippy. As I approached the stadium, I heard a local speak in the very quaint East Yorkshire vernacular –

“Half-time draw tickets – win yoursen a thousand pounds.”

Into the stadium and I nodded a hello to a couple of acquaintances before spotting Alan, Gary and the boys. Team photos. As luck would have it, my decision to avoid the main roads paid dividends. We heard that the three free Chelsea coaches had been stuck in a massive tail-back on the M1. Eventually all three arrived, but our mate Mark only got in at 8.15pm. And he left Chelsea at midday!

Like a lot of new grounds, there doesn’t seem to be a home “end” at Hull – think also Bolton, Wigan and Manchester City. The most vociferous section from the home stands was the 1,000 strong kiddies to our left. Overall, the Hull support was very poor. But this is the same everywhere now, with away fans ( the 3K die-hards ) out singing the home fans.

The 3,000 Chelsea loyalists stood the entire game. We had good, central seats. I kept a few of you lot in touch with the events by texts – you know who you are…all part of the service!

What a goal from Frank – I amazingly captured this on film…just beautiful. A great start. However, Hull did well not to capitulate and had a fair share of the ball in that first period. Cousin hit the post, Cech made a few good stops. We had a few chances too, of course, but the usual suspects didn’t appear to be playing too well. We were begging for a second goal.

At the break, I handed out a few doughnuts to the boys – the Game 700 Meal overspill!

A much better team performance in the second-half. Hull gave Frank too much space and I thought he ran the game. He has been great this season. All of the first-half under performers stepped up in the second 45 – Anelka after his goal especially…the chances came and went…one miss from Malouda especially. However, it ended up 3-0 with the much-maligned Frenchman touching home.

I couldn’t understand a lot of the Hull songs to be honest. You had to admire their cheek, though, because they serenaded us with a song about fcuking off back to our 5hit hole! The cheeky young whippersnappers!

Three-nil – job done!

Walked back to the car park, where a breathless attendant told me of the ridiculous goings-on at Arsenal.

As I listened to “606” as I drove out of the city centre, couldn’t help but think – with Liverpool and United winning too – it’s going to be a great, exciting season.

Stopped for a coffee at Woodall services, then charged down the M1. Unfortunately hit some sleet at Tamworth, which made driving tiresome, and the rain stayed with me until I reached home at 2.15am. It had been a long day…but, you know, just perfect.

For the record – my first 700 games.

Won – 396
Drew – 171
Lost – 133
For – 1211
Against – 646

Hopefully more landmarks lie ahead. You know it!

Dedicated to my good friend Glenn’s grandmother, who sadly passed away last Sunday, aged 90. Rest In Peace.

Tales From The Fulham Road

Posted on July 21, 2013 by Chris Axon

Chelsea vs. Liverpool : 26 October 2008.

So, the match report I was hoping I would never have to write.

But let’s not be too down-hearted. Think back on those 86 games and I think I can remember a few where we were a little lucky to escape with this beautiful record intact. How about being 0-2 down against Villa last year – or United just a few games ago? I personally think that this record will stand forever. It will go down in the record books as one of the great records, akin to DiMaggio’s 56 games hitting streak.

So, let’s take a moment to look back in wonder on this record – and a grateful word of appreciation to every Chelsea player involved.

Thank you.

The gang of five left Frome at 9am and, via a coffee stop on the A303, we were in the café for 11am. A horrible rainy old day in deepest London. The news about Harry Redknapp jumping ship and joining Spurs was the main topic of conversation. I was amazed, but – after a few moments – it makes sense. How far further could he take Pompey? I like Redknapp to be honest, but this will have to be put on hold while he is at Tottenham for a year or two.

We trudged the few yards to The Goose. Only time for three pints this time – another reason why I yean for 3pm kick-offs. One of these days, maybe when the match report is of a particularly poor game, I will go into some length about my closest CFC mates, about how we all met up.

Let’s have a roll-call though.

Frank, Andy and Mark were already in The Goose. The Frome Five ( Dave and Karen, Glenn, Paul and myself ) arrived, soon to be joined by Daryl, Simon and Milo, Rob, Walnuts and Gary. Plus there are a few Goose regulars we know, but not really in our crew…Dutch Mick and his mates Nish and Gary, Zigger Zagger Martin and his lot, Alan and Bob from Eastleigh, plus a few we “nod” to, but don’t really hang out with. A simple “alright mate” is enough in some cases. It’s a good crowd. Many a happy hour has been spent within those four walls. It has been our regular at Chelsea since we moved out of The Harwood in about 1999. And it’s cheap. A round of four pints cost me just over £9.

On Friday afternoon at work, Daryl, Alan, Andy ( oh – one of the Nuneaton lot, some six or seven strong, but they frequent another pub ) and myself were having a great email session at work. Like me, Daryl appreciates the significance of the 1983-84 “Silver Jubillee”. He, too, has a great memory for Chelsea facts and figures. However, on this occasion music and not football was the topic as we discussed the music that was in the charts 25 years ago. I correctly guessed that “Karma Chameleon” was at number one, but then the email thread hopped about all over the place. Some fifty emails later, we departed for our respective homes, but our memories of that 1983-84 season had been refreshed by the kaleidoscope of musical memories from 1983.

Music and football – the twin staples that got us British males through our teenage years.

Anyway, this discussion was continued in the boozer, along with a colourful discussion on the terrace fashions of that time, inaugurated by the presence of Glenn’s new pink Robe Di Kappa polo-shirt.

Damn, the time flew past and it was time to get ourselves to the game. Sometimes you just wish these pre-match chats could go on forever.

The rain had continued unfortunately. Into the ground and we wondered what fates lay ahead.

I guess you all saw the game. I think that Liverpool, as the away team, deserved the win. Too much of our approach play was laboured, but Liverpool did not make it easy for us with a packed midfield. Again, I thought John Obi Mikel played very well – our best player. But too many players underperformed – Deco, Malouda and Kalou especially.

Gerrard bossed the midfield as much as it hurts me to admit it.

I met up with Pete from San Francisco again at half-time…his season ticket seats are in the back row of the MHU in the next section over. We were a bit disgruntled to say the least. He has promised me that he will get involved with the CIA site and will try to get his little gang of West Coast Ex-Pats involved too. They were at all of the California games last summer. He comes over a few times each season and will be back again for the West Ham home game before Christmas.

We had a lot of possession over the course of the whole game, but how many times did we really threaten? Liverpool’s shots on goal seemed to be nearer the mark.

Our support was very poor.

Hardly heard The Shed Singing Section. And I swear that the 12,000 in the West Stand never sang once. Pitiful. We clearly dislike Liverpool, but I – for one – won’t join in with the “Murderers” or “You Killed Your Own Fans” chants which get louder and louder every time we play them. Whoever was responsible for Hillsborough ( and the Liverpool fans do not come out blameless ), I feel it dishonours the dead and does nothing for us as football supporters. Just my opinion. Please respect it.

So, the game drifted away from us. The Scousers were singing. We were silent.

The final whistle and – for the first time since February 2004, a home league defeat. I wonder how my mate Russ feels ( he is on holiday in NYC and Vegas this week and rarely misses ANY home games ). He will be thinking it’s all down to him.

I spotted Daryl queueing up for a burger along the Fulham Road.

“See you at Hull.”

“Yes, mate.”

I texted a few people – got my “congratulations” in first to a couple of Liverpool fans. Glenn and me were very philosophical about the defeat. Let’s not be too downhearted. I texted Teri in LA with a comment about Rudyard Kipling’s wonderful poem “If “ and I love the lines about “treating the two imposters the same!”

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with wornout tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on”;
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings – nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run –
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man my son!

Back to Frome at 6pm, just in time for five-a-side. As fate had it, three Liverpool fans were on the opposing team and I did my best to “out-skill” them.

I did OK.

Hull on Wednesday will be a corker.

Let’s move on.

Tales From The Bridge

Posted on July 21, 2013 by Chris Axon

Chelsea vs. Roma : 22 October 2008.

A messy, tiring journey, but we got there in the end.

This phrase relates to my journey up the M4 to Chelsea, but could also, easily, refer to the game too.

My mate Glenn ( Parky ) was waiting for me in The Pheasant pub car park at 3.45pm. Had a few last minute things to sort out at work, but we left at 4pm. Parky goes to all the midweek games – one of the main reasons being that you get more loyalty points for these ones. A wise decision.

Unfortunately, there had been a six car smash up at Datchet on the M4 and we were snarled up in about 45 minutes of slow-moving traffic. We tried to remain calm, but we got progressively more feisty as the journey lasted.

I had arranged to meet Pete and his wife Becky from San Francisco ( who I first met in Palo Alto before the Club Mexico match in July 2007 ) in The Goose before the game. Pete left the UK in 1988, but has kept his season ticket and makes it over for a few games each season. We tried desperately to meet up in Moscow, but couldn’t quite work out the Cyrillic alphabet in time…a shame. I was also meeting my next-door neighbour Adam ( an Aussie who has been living in deepest Somerset for about five years ) in the pub. He had travelled up to London with work and was relishing his first ever Chelsea game. I had joked with his wife that she would lose him to Chelsea over the coming months and I was only semi-joking. So – text messages were relayed to say I was running late. A bit frustrating. I usually give Chelsea newcomers a good old tour of The Bridge, but Adam’s tour will have to wait for next time.

We parked up just after 6.30pm and raced ( well, Parky is on crutches, but you get my drift ) to the boozer for 6.40pm. Parky took care of the drinks as I located, Pete, Becky and Adam, plus the rest of my mates – Daryl, Ed, Rob, Big Al, Simon, Milo, Paolo ( a Lazio fan from Italy ), Walnuts and Russ. We had half-an-hour of “pre-match” – it was all a bit frantic, but it was so good to see Pete again. We jabbered away about all things Chelsea – trying our best to try to explain to Adam that the most rewarding thing about Chelsea is not the football, but all the peripheral stuff. I think Adam understood.

I mentioned that Danny Baker is now back hosting 606 on BBC Radio Five Live…it’s well worth a listen. Baker avoids the clichéd phone calls of fans talking about their team ( of interest only, really, to other fans of that team ) and instead relies on hilarious anecdotes from the world of football fandom that I find so funny. On the programme on Tuesday, he talked about football pitches on an island in the middle of The Nile, surrounded by crocodiles – “you get the ball, Ahmed” – and even a pitch on top of a block of flats in Zagreb or somewhere ( and a player fell off, apparently. )

Quality stuff.

Russ had brought along a book I had purchased – I think it was written by one of his work colleagues…”Moody Blues” by James Clarke chronicles a fan’s perspective on last season. I dipped into it a bit and it looks like standard fare…I’ll read it and report back.

I am trying to get Pete to join up to CIA. I mentioned my match reports this season and my inter-weaving of the 1983-84 season amid current match reports.

For the record, 25 years ago to the day, Chelsea drew 0-0 at Carlisle United in the Second Division in front of a paltry 6,774. I didn’t go. My second game of that season had been the week before – a home game against Cardiff City on a rainy afternoon, with me sheltering under The Shed roof. I saw Pat Nevin play for the very first time that day. We won 2-0, with Wee Pat and Colin Lee scoring ( gate 15,459 ). The team was coming together, but David Speedie had yet to start…John Neal had preferred the Dixon / Lee strike force up until that point. At the Cardiff game, I distinctly remember quite a few punts upfield for Lee to head on for Dixon…but we were able to vary it that season, with Nevin, especially, being able to run and jink his way past players, get them off balance and then play in balls to Kerry at all sorts of odd angles. We were third in the table after that Cardiff game. I was unemployed for all that 83-84 season, but retaking exams in the November. Chelsea were able to provide me with a lovely distraction from my studies on those cold autumn evenings as I daydreamed of – possible, whisper it – promotion in May.

Back to 2008.

We were running late – it’s still so difficult to pull ourselves away from the pub with chatter going on and on – and unfortunately, with the ticket-scanning system still underperforming, there was a sizeable line at the turnstiles.

We got in ten minutes late.

Another sell-out crowd…and yet more free giveaway scarves on our seats. At this rate, if we get to the semis, I’m going to end up with six bar-scarves! I soon popped in to use the loos and – I had to laugh – somebody had draped a scarf over the urinal…not quite sure why!

The Roma fans – some 3,000 strong – were making a lot of noise in the Shed…many many different banners, all with varying messages, different styles, very “Italian” ( the UK banners tend to be more standard…St. Georges flags, blue ones with white lettering, CFC crests and fans’ names ) I even spotted a Roma / Lacoste banner.

I thought back to the only ever time I had seen Roma…back in Pittsburgh in 2004, when my first US trip proved to be so enjoyable. I had travelled up with my friend Roma ( yes, really – some of you met her in NYC, Chicago and LA ) and her daughters from North Carolina. We had a blast in Pittsburgh, even meeting both squads in their respective hotels. The photos I have of all of us with JT and Roma with Francesco Totti are beautiful. Just beautiful. Only Totti, Mexes and Panucci remain as far as I could gather…I kept Roma informed of the game via texts ( she was actually at a nice sporting event of her own, meeting NASCAR’s Tony Stewart in Georgia )

What of the game? It was a messy affair, wasn’t it? Roma closed down any space going and did the stereotypical Italian away performance. I think their manager must have lambasted them after their 0-4 home loss at the weekend and they were well drilled. Our support, not exactly buoyed by the lacklustre performance, was quiet.

It was a frustrating night for sure.

At half-time, Alan handed over my Roma away ticket, which he had collected in the afternoon. I won’t bore everyone to death, but my mates have been embroiled in an email discussion about all of the security checks and scare tactics which have engulfed the return game in two weeks. Daryl isn’t going, but has bought his ticket for Bob in San Francisco…now, it appears the tickets have encoded names on them and id needs to be shown at the turnstiles. If the names don’t match, you don’t get in. We are not sure if this is just scare tactics or what. Meanwhile, Bob is trying to source his own ticket for the game in Rome.

Watch this space.

Malouda had been really ineffective in the first half and so was replaced at the break. No complaints. I have to honest – I don’t think many players shone. Maybe Carvalho. I thought Deco was poor. There were no Frank surges from midfield. Maybe Mikel did OK. I was preparing for a 0-0 to be honest. Roma didn’t really create much. Totti, though full of nice touches, didn’t get too involved.

A corner to us, right down below me and I captured Frank on film. JT headed the resultant delivery home. Yes…get in!

News came through that Liverpool had conceded a late goal in Madrid…that got a cheer.

We walked back to the car, I said “adios” to Adam and then drove back West with Parky. He had been in the very front row of the Shed Lower and reported back that the Roma fans were singing all night…they certainly didn’t let up. However – not good news – he also reported that several Roma fans had thrown bottles of ( avert your eyes and ears ) urine at the Chelsea fans. Parky wasn’t impressed. Neither was I.

Roma in two weeks’ time might be a bit naughty.

Tales From The Open Road

Posted on July 21, 2013 by Chris Axon

Middlesbrough vs. Chelsea : 18 October 2008.

I don’t know who decides which games are brought forward to 12.45pm on Saturday lunchtimes, but I would imagine that they must be having trouble getting by with half their brain missing.

I don’t object in principle to early kick-offs, but why not limit it to local derbies…heaven knows there are enough this year, with clusters of teams in London, the Midlands, the North West and the North East. It’s just crazy to expect Chelsea fans to turn up for an away game on Teeside on a Saturday lunchtime.

However, with all that said, I was looking forward to the trip north. I am not a big fan of cars per se, but I love driving. This jaunt would be the longest round trip I have ever done following Chelsea in my own car, on my own steam, me at the wheel all the way…well, in the UK anyway. A couple in the US were much longer.

Up at 4.30am and I pulled out of my drive at 5.10am, everyone else still slumbering. Made myself a coffee for the first part of the trip and that went down well. A little drizzle as I raced through the deserted streets of Bristol. I texted my good mate Alan to let him know I was “on the road.”

“Jack Kerouac.”

He was “Reg Varney” ( on the buses )… in fact on the sole CFC official bus, which pulled out of The Bridge at 4.30am. Although he only lives eight miles to the south of Chelsea, down near Palace’s ground, he had to be up at 2am. Thank you Mr Lobotomy Man at the FA. Alan told me that Radio Five Live were going to interview “Eileen” at 6am, giving her a platform to air the views of the disgruntled fans on board. As it happens, I just missed her on the radio. Five Live were doing a section on long-distance fans and one guy phoned in to say he lives near Manchester, but is a season ticket bolder at Hamburg. I’m sure that a fair percentage of Saturday traffic on the UK motorway network is made up of football fans, each on their own particular pilgrimage to far flung outposts.

It was quite a sight to observe the sky lightening in the east, just as I drove past Worcester. Then around the M42, by-passing Birmingham. I was making good time and stopped for a McBreakfast at 7.20am, just before hitting the M1 at Nottingham.

A brilliant, dazzling sunrise at Nottingham, the sun piercing the sky behind the immense cooling towers at Nottingham. An amazing sight.

After about twenty minutes, I pulled into Tibshelf services for ten minutes as Alan’s coach had stopped there for an hour. Said “hi” to our mate Gary – Alan’s away day partner – and also Mark from Sudbury, who I first met in that 1983-84 season. Spotted Gill, who I first met at Nevada Smiths on the 2005 US tour. She travels up from Kent to all away games with her son Graeme.

Anyway, onwards and upwards, past Mansfield, Chesterfield, Sheffield, Doncaster, signs for dirty Leeds, then skimmed past Wetherby and Thirsk. Light drizzle again as the North York moors loomed ominously on the horizon. Some of you may remember that last season I stayed at Whitby with Judy and met up with my old college room mate Chris for the ‘Boro game. This year, much the same story. I soon reached Thornaby On Tees, Chris’ home town, at about 10am and soon found myself at Chris parents’ house.

Now, I don’t go along with the strongly-held view, cherished by a lot of southerners ( especially Londoners ) that anywhere north of Watford is a hole. I love travelling to each of the cities for away games and try my best to find some nice aspects to each place I visit.

But Middlesbrough is tough. When I first met Chris in 1984, even then he told me that Thornaby wasn’t a great place to live. This was my first visit really…it’s an overspill town for Middlesbrough and is completely characterless and charmless. The town centre, currently being dismantled and rebuilt, was 1960 ugliness to a tee.

Anyway, his Mum had brewed-up and we had a chat with a nice cuppa tea.

We then drove to his sisters before getting a cab to the ground, only about three miles away. It was the same scenario as last year – Chris, his Dad, his son Michael and his brother in law, Richard, ‘Boro fans the lot of them…and me.

On the way to the Riverside, the huge, sprawling ICI chemical plant to the east of Middlesbrough could be plainly seen. This is the plant that gives Middlesbrough fans their self-deprecating nickname of Smoggies. I think if you come from Teeside, you need to laugh at yourself. Smoke billowing out from a few chimneys could certainly be seen. Not pleasant.

The stadium is located on land which was obviously where wharves and warehouses had been located, adjacent to the massive frame of the Transporter Bridge, straddling the Tees. ‘Boro used to play at Ayresome Park and I like the fact that the original gates from their former ground have been relocated in front of the bright red entrance to the main stand at The Riverside. There are two statues of former players in the same area…a nice touch. I wonder when our Peter Osgood statue will be appearing at The Bridge.

Unlike in previous visits, where the away fans were located in the SE corner, away fans now are more centrally located behind the East goal. Alan, Gary and myself were in the back row of the front section. I took some nice close-ups of the boys during their pre-match stretches and shuttle runs.

Our mates Andy and Neil, from Nuneaton, were two rows in front. Had a quick word of sympathy with Cliff, the guy fined for protecting his son from police brutality. Pathetic.

I noted many many flags and banners dotted around the rear of the four stands of The Riverside. One said “Our Team, Our Club, Our Teeside.” Yeah, and you’re bloody welcome to it. One said “Spirit of ‘86”, a nod to the year in which the club were almost wound up…those Ayresome Park gates were memorably locked amidst fears of liquidation…hard to believe that the team then won consecutive promotions from the Third and Second Divisions, including an infamous play-off victory against us…for a few years, I hated ‘Boro…the 1997 FA Cup Final win eased the pain!

‘Boro’s signature tune “Pigbag” ( a dance track from 1982, years ahead of it time ) welcomed the teams onto the pitch. The home end held up cards to say “One ‘Boro.” The Chelsea support rallied with songs about meadows and celery.

Alan made the very pertinent point that through the use of mosaics, banners and piped music, the clubs these days do all they can to promote a “happy, feely, bouncy” atmosphere at games…but stand up and step out of line – and you’re out! A real paradox, eh? My mate Andy was almost banned from football four years ago on a visit to this stadium when he had the temerity to celebrate a Chelsea goal a little too near the perimeter fence ( he didn’t go onto the pitch ) but after two court appearances, he got away with a warning. Andy is a fine CFC fan, he goes everywhere and this really got to him.

What a performance, eh? Yep, Middlesbrough were pretty poor, but we did play some sweet stuff. I think all the plaudits have gone to Malouda, Kalou and Super Frank, but I would like to say a good word for Mikel, who broke up a lot of ‘Boro’s moves, especially in the first half. He seems to mature with each game.

What a strike from Juliano…so similar to the goals against Wigan and Spurs last season. That boy can certainly hit a ball. We had a great view of that one, but an even better view of Frank’s glancing header which was the endpiece of a beautiful flowing move. We scored four goals in just 16 minutes and the Chelsea choir responded in the only way we know –

“Boring Boring Chelsea.”

It really was a top-notch performance and it equalled my highest ever Cherlsea away win ( 5-0 at Wolves in 2003 ). Loads of positives – lovely passing and movement…long may it continue.

I was soon out of the ground and quickly met up with Chris’ family. His ten year old son Michael was inconsolable. I really felt for him. I joked that they must be sick of the sight of me. Next year, I won’t meet up with them, I promise! Luckily, our cab was waiting ( how good was that! ) and I was soon saying my cheerios to Chris’ family. His Mum had prepared a little packed lunch for my long drive south and I left Thornaby at 3.30pm, feeling very pleased with the result.

The traffic was fine on the long drive home…I began listening to the football on Five Live, but after wins for the Goons and Liverpool, I couldn’t face listening to a United win. As I raced south, I listened to a few bands from my youth. Echo and The Bunnymen at Tamworth, The Stranglers at Tewkesbury, The Buzzcocks at Bristol.

As I drove through Midsomer Norton, Pete Shelley was singing “Everybody’s Happy Nowadays.”

Well – Chelsea fans are, for sure.

I reached home at 8.15pm…560 miles on the clock and another three points in the bag.

Roma – you are next.

Tales From London Town

Posted on July 21, 2013 by Chris Axon

Chelsea vs. Aston Villa : 5 October 2008.

To start, let’s not forget – 86 Home League Games Without Defeat.

This was a great team performance.

Left a cold and wet Frome at 9am. The talk in the car on the way to London was dominated by Paul and Dave voicing concerns about their jobs…they are both working on “the tarmac” and my home town has many “Boys From The Blackstuff” as Somerset’s limestone quarries are close by. A few local gangs are going under it seems. The awful wet weather outside mirrored the gloomy mood in the car – economic worries for sure, but also worries about a competent Villa team beating us. Even a few comments about the game taking place at all – the rain was lashing down. We all remembered a game from autumn 1998 – also against Villa – that was called off at 2.15pm. We hoped and prayed the game would go ahead.

Karen pulled into our parking spot at 11am…then into The Caff for a fry-up. The five of us from Frome were soon joined by five more West Country Blues, from Trowbridge this time.

Then the short walk to The Goose for 11.30pm…the troops slowly arrived one by one. It was a good sesh. I had five pints of lager and Rob bought me a sambuca. Rob had been over in Cluj and had spotted the photos of the boys on the Cluj website…

http://www.sport365.ro/Suporterii_echip … 12622.html

Popped over to have a few words with Dutch Mick. He was over in Cluj too and reckoned that only around 600 Chelsea were at the game. He confirmed that a good time was had by all – he won at the local casino, so was in pocket on the trip. Spoke to one of his mates, from Huddersfield, and we happened to mention a sad incident from that 1983-84 season ( which I am keen to shoe-horn into my current reports as you know. ) In October 1983, Chelsea were towards the top of the Second Division and played a game at Huddersfield Town’s old Leeds Road ground. At the end of the game, a young Chelsea fan, Richard Aldridge, was attacked with a pool cue and very sadly died. I attended the next home game ( versus Cardiff City ) and remember the minute silence held in his honour. The Cardiff game was my first ever sighting of Pat Nevin in Chelsea blue…anyway, mixed memories from 1983. Let’s not always view the past with blue-tinted spectacles.

My good mate Alan arrived and he told a few stories of the Cluj trip too. A few of you have met Alan ( have known him since 1984 – yep, that season again! ) and he has been a regular in the gym all summer. The Big Man is now looking a lot slimmer and looking great. He was modelling a new Stoney pullover and was in good form.

There was such laughter in the pub – everyone giving as good as they got. The Carlings were going down well. We watched as West Ham lost 3-1 at home.

Good times.

I had been in contact with CIA founder member Mike ( dutter44 ) who has been living in the UK for about a year. After living in Edinburgh, he has been down in London for a while. I realised on Saturday that we were yet to meet up…to be honest, we have only ever met once before, on the double-decker in Chicago and probably only said a few words then. Anyway, he found his way to the pub and arrived at about 2.15pm ( far too late, Mike, you must do better next time! ) and we had a good old natter, both in the boozer and on the walk to the ground…thankfully the rain had subsided. Mike and myself barely touched the surface – think we were both aware that he is going to love this season ( he has a season ticket the jammy get! ) and I have already said he needs to come with us, the Bada Bing Firm, for an away game. Looks like about ten of us are doing West Brom away in November. Mike is a Yankee fan too, so be sure we’ll be yakking about The Bronx Bombers on our next pre-match. Something to look forward to.

I was surprised that Villa only brought 1,500 away fans. All teams are offered 3,000 tickets at Chelsea. Considering they were flying high in the league, I was amazed they only took up the smaller allocation.

My grandfather – although more a cricket fan – used to play football for the village team and did tell me that he used to favour Villa and Newcastle as a young man. The reason for Newcastle being that the village rector, with whom he became friends, was from Newcastle. I never got to the bottom of the Villa link. I am sure he never visited Villa Park.

I reminded my mate Glenn that Villa’s John Carew played against us way back in 1999 for the Norwegian team Vaalerenga. Anybody else realise this?

The game? We needn’t have worried about Villa beating us. To use a well-worn Southern Californian phrase, we were awesome.

I thought Frank was immense – as good a game as he has had for ages. He was everywhere, box to box, sublime control and wonderful passes. A real performance for the ages.

Impressed with Mikel too, doing the simple things.

And Ivanovic, covering for Alex in the middle. Funny really – we had concerns about the paucity of our squad, but no worries on this showing. And how well did Ashley Cole play?

A couple of women who sit below us in Row C were featured in the programme. There was a photograph of them in their seats ( and our good friend Tom’s chin was in the background – I asked if he could sign the programme! )

A feature of the programme this year is the players being asked about their home towns ( Alex – Rio, Petr – Prague, etc ) with photos and a brief resume of attractions. Well, it was Scott Sinclair’s turn and a couple of pages were devoted to Bath ( my place of birth too…). He mentioned the Roman Baths, the town’s famous rugby club ( and a famous player, Jeremy Guscott, born in Bath the day after me…wonder if our mothers were in adjacent beds! ) and also the town’s two non-league teams, both playing in the Blue Square South this year. Bath City is long established, but Team Bath is the new upstart, being the university team. In fact I’m watching Team Bath play at Frome Town next Saturday in the FA Cup. Anyway, a good piece on my local city.

Glenn and myself had another pint at half-time ( we rarely do this ), but it was a shame no more goals ensued. The beer took its toll on Glenn – he momentarily dozed off during the last part of the game…Alan and myself were two sniggering schoolboys. It isn’t the first time this has happened, either!

We were over the moon that Hull had won at Tottenham ( what is going on there, eh? Ho ho ho ), not so chuffed about the Mickies at Manchester City.

Definitely a good – no great – day at the office.

Tales From The Potteries, Duck

Posted on July 21, 2013 by Chris Axon

Stoke City vs. Chelsea : 27 September 2008.

This report is going to be rather self-indulgent, so I hope nobody minds too much. I spent three years in Stoke-On-Trent at North Staffs Poly from 1984 to 1987 and I had been looking forward to this away day ever since Stoke were promoted in May. With this in mind, I wanted to make a full day of it.

I left for Stoke at 6.30am. Really patchy fog all of the way up to Birmingham – if not fog, then bright sunshine. It was a rather tiring start to the day. I refuelled at Hilton Park services just to the north of Brum. Cocooned in my car, I tend to forget where I am. However, a few words from the petrol station attendant reminded me I was definitely in the Midlands – her horrible Brummie accent gave it away. As I am sure a lot of you are aware, the UK has many many accents…within a fifty mile radius of Stoke, there are many different accents…Birmingham to the south, Derby ( “Dah-beh “) to the east, Manchester and Liverpool to the north, Bolton above them…and then Stoke itself has its own particular accent, much lampooned by my mates and me in those college years. More of that later.

The last thirty minutes of the trip were spent thinking back to 1984, not to the football for a change, but to that drive up to Stoke on a Sunday in late September 1984. My father drove me up to Stoke and I will be honest; I was very nervous about how the next three years away from home would turn out. It was probably my least favourite journey ever! I needn’t have worried – had a great time in Sunny Stoke and I still keep in contact with five or six good mates to this day.

I pulled into Stoke at just after 9am, some 145 miles from home. It was a crisp, sunny Autumn morning. I sat myself down for a breakfast and a coffee, and texted a few ex-Stoke mates of my whereabouts. Now then, the city of Stoke-On-Trent is a funny old place. The city consists of the five former individual towns of Stoke, Hanley and Burslem ( home of Port Vale FC ) to the north and Fenton and Longton to the east. For many years, there was great inter-town rivalry (each town tried to out-do its neighbours with its town halls and other civic buildings for example) and the city of Stoke-On-Trent was only formed in around 1910. Since those days, the more central Hanley is basically the city centre, containing all of the major shops. In comparison, Stoke ( where I lived in those college years ) has a small and rather sad town centre…probably less shops than my home town of Frome to be honest. Of course, the area has been World famous for its pottery industry ( think Spode and Wedgewood ) and so the whole area is known as The Potteries. There is the odd reminder of the area’s industrial past – canals, railways, bottle kilns – but the industry has reduced in size, even since I left in 1987. To confuse things even more, the nicer, separate town of Newcastle Under Lyme abuts the western edge of Stoke. So, that sets the scene.

One more thing – the accent…very distinctive! The first thing to say is that, like in the East Midlands, everybody calls each other “duck” to the point of overkill. I went into a shop to buy some locally made “Wrights” pies and I was called duck about five times. The common greeting in Stoke is “ayaduck.” For the Expats, Garth Crooks is a Stokie…my mates can “do” this accent and its great fun.

I drove over to Newcastle and mooched around for half-an-hour. When I was at college, I often used to walk the two miles to ‘Castle and pop into a few nice shops…one of which was called “Review” and was the place ( along with “Matinique” in Hanley ) where all the football stuff was sold…back in those days, it was Kappa, Best Company, Emporio Armani. It has recently been re-opened as “Pockets” and I spent a good twenty minutes in there chatting to the owner about my time twenty years ago! One of the shop assistants was a United fan who had been in Moscow. We had a good old chat about that most momentous of games. “Pockets” sponsor Stoke – they provide the team suits…the shop is stocked full of Armani, CP, Boss, Paul Smith and Stone Island…not tempted though. Not this time!

I had agreed to meet Cathy and Dog off their 11.15am train back at Stoke station, so I retraced my tracks. The scene which greeted me was like something from the ‘eighties…there were about 30 Old Bill, police vans and police dogs swarming the station exit, awaiting the Chelsea train from Euston. I warned Cathy, who had come in via Derby, and she managed to “slip” them and I picked them up just as a mob of about 200 Chelsea were being marched from the station to The Fawn pub, where they would be kept until coaches would take them to the Brittannia Stadium. There were a few “faces” amongst this mob and the OB were filming them on hand-held cameras. There were no “scarfers” amongst this lot.

I gave Cathy and Dog a very quick tour of Stoke…past the deserted remains of the old Victoria Ground, where Stoke played until about 2001. For two years, I lived in a terraced house right next to the away end. This area of Stoke, rows upon rows of Victorian and Edwardian houses, houses the bed-rock of the club’s support. Formed as early as 1863, Stoke were one of the founder member of the original football league.

We headed for a small pub on the London Road called O’Leary’s” where former Chelsea, Stoke and England mid-fielder Alan Hudson was gong to be doing a ( Stoke-based ) book signing. He played for us from 1969 to 1974 before signing for Stoke. He was a gifted player, but fell out of favour with most people at Chelsea after his often bitter attacks on the club. We ordered some beers and kept to ourselves – we didn’t go over and say “hi.” He then resigned for us in the summer of 1983 ( from an America team, I believe…) but never got himself fit enough to play a game in that momentous 1983-84 season. He actually resigned for Stoke later in that season. When I was at college there, he owned a wine bar in Newcastle, and has fought a battle with alcoholism ever since. He looked a rather sad figure to be honest.

My mate Simon and his son Milo were arriving on the club special at 12.30pm ( a subsidised price of £10! We later heard that the club is doing free train travel to Hull – fantastic! ). I parked up close to the station again…more heavy-handed police behaviour…but Simon and Milo slipped the escort. Back to the boozer for 1pm. Milo settled down in front of the Everton vs. Liverpool game, but was more content with the book he was reading.

Had two pints of Grolsch and had a good old natter with Simon and Cathy. It was soon time to set off for the stadium though. We left the pub at just before 2pm, just as a taxi arrived outside containing Mark, Lee and Jon. A quick “hello goodbye” and then the five minute drive to the ground. Stoke’s old ground was down in the valley, a mile away, under the ridge of high land called Penkhull, but the new place was on high land to the east, in a place called Sideway.

Managed to find a place to park…jeez, cars were parked everywhere…on grass verges, on pavements, on roundabouts, despite “Police Tow Away Zone” signs. I took a nice shot of Simon and Milo next to the Cauldon Canal, with the sleek stands of The Brittania way up on the hill behind.

There is a lovely statue of Stoke’s most famous son, Sir Stanley Matthews, behind the Boothen End…it shows the great player on a mazy dribble…first as a 16 year old Stoke debutant, then in his prime as a England and Blackpool player, then in his last years, as a 50 year old Stoke player, just about to shoot.

It’s a magnificent statue.

The scene under the Chelsea seats, once I had walked through the turnstiles, was one of noise and mayhem. About 200 beered-up Chelsea fans were doing the “Bouncy Bouncy” and some were throwing full bottles of Carslberg up in the air. It was mad. Saw a few friends as I made a bee-line for my seat up in row 26, alongside Alan and Gary.

The 3,000 away fans were in great voice in the first twenty minutes. Stoke’s song of choice is “Delilah” and that rocked the stadium on a few occasions.

We played well in the first-half, with Mikel strong and Frank probing us forward. What a lovely move down the right and a great strike from Bosingwa. Stoke made life hard for us though. We thought that Drogba still doesn’t look 100% match fit.

Alan Hudson did the draw at half-time.

We looked a bit laboured in the second-half to be honest, but once Anelka had scored a second, we came on strong again and played some nice stuff. It was great to hear a new song being aired…quite simple…”Juliano Belletti.” Did anyone hear this? Yep, we were in good voice…our away support is so much better than the home support. Everyone seems that more committed.

At the final whistle, I raced down to where my car was parked and – unbelievably – was on the M6 south by 5.15pm. I liked that!

Stopped for a coffee just south of Brum…and the last 90 minutes was spent listening to the commentary on the radio of Arsenal vs. Hull City. I don’t think anybody expected that result! Beth could hardly believe me when I told her the Goons were losing 2-1. It was a nervy last twenty minutes though, as I drove through Bristol…that Gallas header that hit the bar…ho ho.

A great day out ended with Chelsea top of the table… Arsenal losing at home…the weekend would end with Tottenham losing…Tottenham bottom of the table.

Happy days, duck.

Tales From The Away End / Home End

Posted on July 21, 2013 by Chris Axon

Portsmouth vs. Chelsea : 24 September 2008.

As I think I may have said a few times, Portsmouth is one of my favourite away games, not the least because it’s the closest Premier League ground to my home.

I had booked a half-day holiday, so left work just after 1pm…back home for some scoff, a quick change and away at 3pm.

Another solo trip for me, but I had arranged to meet up with a former school friend, Rick, a Portsmouth a season-ticket holder for some 16 years. He had left Frome to go to college in London, but had grabbed the opportunity to move down to the south coast in 1992. He now lives only about half a mile from Fratton Park.

Portsmouth is only 75 miles away and it’s a fine route down, heading down the A36, through the beautiful cathedral city of Salisbury ( the cathedral’s spire is the highest in England and is quite stunning )…I noted that Salisbury is now twinned with the two US towns of Salisbury in Maryland and North Carolina. Does anyone live close to these towns? Onto the M27, straight past Southampton and onto Portsmouth. Maybe I’ll tell the story of the two cities’ rivalry later in the season…suffice to say the two sets of fans don’t get on.

I approached Portsmouth at around 4.45pm. Portsmouth is a strange place. The city itself is on the island of Portsea and shares this island with the more up-market resort of Southsea. The streets in and around Fratton Park consist of tight terraced houses. I suggest looking at the area on Google Earth to give some sort of idea of the claustrophobic nature of the city. On busy match days, getting out is a nightmare. My two mates Alan and Gary were on their way down the M3 on one of the Chelsea coaches. Desperate for a drink, I popped into The Good Companion, where I had a quick chat with Mad Mark and Jon. I excused myself as I had to deal with a few phone-calls from work. I spent a few minutes taking a look around Fratton Park. It’s such a classic old-style football ground, with floodlight pylons, old stands along the sides and certainly adds to the character of the city’s football team. You get a real sense of one town / one team at Portsmouth. The approach to the main stand is a classic sight – the entrance all mock Tudor beams. In days past, The Pompey pub was adjacent to the entrance, but this closed a while ago. On a visit to Fratton for a friendly in 2002, I noted it had been turned into a club shop…it’s now the PFC media centre…if that isn’t metaphor for the changing focus of football clubs I don’t know what is!

The weather was turning nasty, the drizzle was getting heavier. I needed to find a pub. Walking past the alleyway by the away end, I spotted a Portsmouth FC mural, denoting about twenty former players…I spotted one of their former striker William “Farmer Boy” Haines from the ‘twenties. My father knew this player as Wyndy Haines – after his playing days, he ran a pub in my local town of Frome.

I popped into The Rose In June ( no idea why the pub has such an odd name ) and had a text chat on the phone with Bob in Fremont and Teri in LA. They were glad to hear I was at the game. I had to laugh…I heard one of the barmaids shout out “Celery?” and I wondered what treats lie ahead. Oh no, my mistake – she actually said “Cellar key?” I read the programme – I don’t often buy one…columnist Steve Bone made a few good points about formations.

“I don’t understand formations. That’s football team formations, not cloud formations. Although I don’t really get them either. Actually it’s not so much that I don’t understand them; more that I don’t notice them. This is probably not a great thing to be admitting for someone who spends parts of his working life reporting on football matches, but there we are. It’s no good pretending. If you were to say to me after a game: How do you think the 3-5-2 worked?” I’d probably answer: “What 3-5-2? Who was playing 3-5-2? Where am I?”

I had to chuckle. He then went through the traditional 1-11 that I grew up with ( and understood! ) but lamented “I can’t quite pinpoint when this formula started to fall apart, but I should imagine it was around the same time that society itself began to crumble.”

Good stuff.

At 6.30pm, I called in to see Rick, who had just returned from work. Back to the pub for another drink. He’s off to Portugal with Pompey next week and is relishing the trip, their first ever in Europe. We talked throughout the evening about what supporting a lesser club in the eighties, during those hard school years, was like…it was pretty tough at times…but every dog has its day and I am genuinely pleased that his loyalty has now been rewarded with Cup Finals and trips to Europe. Payback time for all the hardships! His daughter Catherine, 10, has only seen Pompey in three away games and they have all been at Wembley! Unbelievable.

I waited while Rick demolished a Mick Monster Burger and then had a quick word with Cathy and Dog. I don’t think Cath was too impressed I was watching from a “home area.” Sorry – it won’t happen again!

We then took our seats in the North Stand ( the one along the side, facing the TV cameras, the one where Chicago Ian watched from in February ) and I promised to watch my Ps and Qs.

Chelsea had the entire Milton End, 2,500 strong and I spotted that we ( they? This is very confusing…) stood the entire game. I had a good seat, near the Fratton End. As Mike Oldfield’s “Portsmouth” was played on the PA, the teams entered the stadium. Both teams were going for it…I saw Ivanovic was debuting at right back, Belletti was in the Maka, er, Essien, er, Mikel role. Bridger at left back.

Pompey had a few early thrusts, but we soon took control…a silly challenge on Ballack and Frank the Penalty slotted home. I was texting madly to my mate Alan in the Chelsea end, Beth and Andy in the US – and only just caught Malouda’s goal. Coasting.

We played some nice stuff, but like the league opener, Portsmouth were very poor…they usually give us a tough game at Fratton, too.

At one moment in the first period, Ballack was getting some abuse from the home followers around me and so ( please avert your eyes and ears if you are easily offended ) I seized the opportunity to get stuck in too…”Ballack, you’re cattle-trucking useless!” Of course, I didn’t mean it, but it felt right and proper that I at last got it off my chest, after his poor show in 2006-2007.

Please forgive me. It made Beth laugh, anyway.

Kalou impressed me in the second-half…his nice neat run and cross set up Frank’s second goal and our third…James flapped and fluffed, the ball hit Frank on the chest and it timidly crossed the line. I forgot where I was and silently stood…it was bizarre to wait for a full two seconds for the Chelsea fans to roar…they obviously had no idea it had crossed the line.

Another defensive error – Distin this time – and Kalou rifled the fourth.

“Training session – at Fratton Park.”

Scott Sinclair came on in the last twenty minutes, took up his position right in front of me on the wing, then proceeded to fall over, loose control, run into people…I think we might not see the best of Scotty…I have a feeling he might never make it at Chelsea.

Bumped into my good mate Andy from Nuneaton on the walk back to the car…I joked with Rick not to kick the cat when he reached his house…he was certainly lamenting some awful defending.

The roads were clear on the drive home. Via a coffee stop en route, back home at 11.30pm…just in time to catch the Carling Cup highlights on ITV.

Perfect.

Received a text from Rick this morning –

“great to catch up last night, close game, thought we defended well…cat still alive.”

Tales From The Sleepy Hollow

Posted on July 21, 2013 by Chris Axon

Chelsea vs. Manchester United : 21 September 2008.

Before we forget – 85 Home League Games Unbeaten.

We rode our luck a bit, but so pleased we didn’t lose to United.

We all left Frome at 8.45am and were soon zipping east up the A303 and M3 into London. A beautiful Autumnal morning.

The others were off into the caff for a fry-up, but I made a bee-line for Fulham Broadway as I had heard that both Mickey Thomas and Paul Canoville were doing book-signings at both the “Borders” bookshop and the CFCUK stall opposite the tube station. I popped into McDonalds, where Alan, Daryl, Neil and Ed were polishing off a McBreakfast…they had just come from the stall themselves where they had a natter with Mickey.

I reached FB at about 10.45am.

Mickey Thomas was signed from Stoke City in January 1984 and he, ironically, took Paul Canoville’s place on the left wing in that fabled promotion team. He added that extra dimension, a ball-winning left-sided winger whose all-action style and infectious personality sparked extra life into an already rampaging club on its progress to Division One that season. He had previously played for Manchester United, of all teams, and so I was slightly dubious of his play…his move from Stoke involved him moving down a division, so maybe I thought he had passed his peak.

I couldn’t have been more wrong – I saw his home debut against Wednesday and was immediately smitten. He scored the first two goals in our 3-2 win ( a massive 35,000 gate when the average top flight gate was only around 25,000 ) and he ran his heart out. Instant affection from us in The Benches. He developed an instant rapport with the thousands of pastel-wearing Chelsea lads that day and it was a match made in heaven…or actually Wrexham, where fellow team mates Joey Jones, Eddie Niedzwiecki and manager John Neal had first encountered this wayward genius.

I bought Mickey’s new book “Knockups, Hiccups, Lockups”, had my photograph taken with him and mentioned that I had last seen him in the away end at Blackburn in 2006, when I mentioned that he was in my all-time Chelsea XI. On that day, he seemed genuinely pleased with my comment and he thanked me again for that. I know he does some match day work for Century FM in Manchester and so I said that, despite doing work for United, I wanted him to know that he is loved at Chelsea.

Top man.

And, yes, another echo of that 1983-84 season…Twenty-Five Years ago. Where does the time go?

Paul Canoville had not yet shown up ( Daryl joked that he was probably still phoning all of his children to see how they were! ) so I sped back to The Goose where I joined the boys in the beer garden for three cold pints. I gave a truncated match report from the U18s 4-1 defeat at Bristol City on the Saturday morning. It wasn’t great.

Spent a nice and relaxed two hours in the pub, looking ahead to the next few games, trying to plan who would pick up match tickets for who, planning on meeting Simon and Milo in Stoke next week.

Daryl, Neil and myself – the baseball trio – had a quiet few moments of reflection on Yankee Stadium’s last ever game in the small hours…I’d tape the game, but also see how far I could get watching live.

Myself and the Frome boys were saying that we would be happy with a draw – that unbeaten run means so much. But Simon and Daryl were having none of it – their view was to take the game to United…they thought that at times the unbeaten run had cramped our adventurous spirit at times. An interesting opinion. We also talked of Zola at West Ham. I mentioned that I read about a bloke in CFCUK say recently that he was happy when the little man scored against England at Wembley in 1997. I had to agree…I was sat next to Daryl at that game and we both did a little “yep” as he scored past Walker ( ? ) in the England goal. I would imagine the same thing happening should Tevez score against England, if the “Argentina” choruses are anything to go by at Old Trafford.

We walked to the stadium and at long last I got in with time to spare.

Rob had tipped me off that several key supporters ( and Roman ) had paid for a new bigger “Pride Of London” flag and this was being passed over the heads of the MHL as I took my seat. It’s not as big as the 1994 one, but way bigger than the 2007 incarnation. Rob tells me Roman has stumped up for a new away flag too. That’s good to hear.

The game? United bossed the first thirty minutes. They took a deserved lead, but thankfully seemed quite content to let us back into the game. To be fair, I thought we struggled for long periods. I lost patience with Malouda, who seemed unable to get in the right position…too often he would stray inside, drop deep, generally show little positional sense. Mirroring his approach play at Eastlands, Anelka, too, often came too deep.

A shame we lost Lord Percy, but Alex was my man of the match. JT – I have to say – has had a few ropey games and was again at sixes and sevens at times.

But we kept going – I was getting behind the team, urging them one…a few nice moments when the crowd got it together, but it wasn’t that loud.

Thought the free-kick which led to our goal was over-hit, so I was in a state of shock when Kalou got his noggin on it.

1-1…deep relief.

A very tense game. Why do we do this to ourselves, eh?

As I say – just happy we didn’t lose…85 games, let’s push on to 100.

CHELSEA/esque

A Blue World In Black And White

Category Archives: Season 2008-2009.

Tales From Italy

Tales From A Wet And Windy London Town

Tales From The Roman Road

Tales From The Fulham Road

Tales From The Bridge

Tales From The Open Road

Tales From London Town

Tales From The Potteries, Duck

Tales From The Away End / Home End

Tales From The Sleepy Hollow