Tag Archives: 2008-2009

Tales From The Fulham Road

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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.

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Tales From The Bridge

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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.

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Tales From The Open Road

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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.

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Tales From London Town

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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.

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Tales From The Potteries, Duck

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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.

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Tales From The Away End / Home End

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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.”

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Tales From The Sleepy Hollow

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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.
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Tales From SW6

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Chelsea vs. Bordeaux : 16 September 2008.

A few of my closest Chelsea mates were having a good old debate during the afternoon about the “manufactured” atmosphere that the club seems to be promoting again this season. We had heard that, instead of Chelsea flags, old style blue and white bar scarves would be given to all fans at the game. I commented that while I like the impact of these “visuals”, I was dead against the Fulham-style noise-makers ( first observed by me at Anaheim in 2002 I seem to remember )…if at any time in the near future, we were handed those on our entrance into the MHU, I think a little part of me would die a little.

Regarding flags, my last comment to the boys was “if the fans were able to bring them in themselves, a la Ultras, I could find it more palatable.I think it’s the club enforcing these things on us which is the key to our disdain.”

And so I set off. I left work at 4.15pm.

I work in the Wiltshire town of Chippenham. It’s a pretty sleepy town, famous for only one thing really…or rather, infamous…a mere 800 yards away from where I work, rock and roll legend Eddie Cochrane was killed in a car crash, back in around 1960.

I made good time until I reached the outskirts of West London – in the first hour, I covered 70 miles, but then the traffic slowed up. In the second hour I only did 25 miles. Drove into London on the M4, with Windsor Castle visible to my right ( Peter Osgood was born in Windsor ) and the much lampooned Slough to my left.

Since the ‘seventies, when my parents drove me up the M4 to games at Chelsea, the landmarks I spot from the M4 have become iconic for me. I’m travelling a well worn path on this road, believe me.

As I drove up and over the elevated section of the M4, I glimpsed the majestic arch of Wembley on the horizon to the north, the skyscrapers at Canary Wharf right ahead of me and I got what I will call from now on “the Brentford Buzz” – the sudden realisation that I was now in London Town and only three miles away from Stamford Bridge. The Killers CD was turned up a few notches…a nice feeling of exhilaration.

Parked-up at 6.15pm, straight into The Goose and a pint of Carling, me darling. Out into the quiet beer garden and a few “hiya boys” to Alan, Daryl, Rob, Daryl and his son Ed, Simon and his son Milo. Oh – another chap was present…a chap called Glenn ( or “Parky” ) who I used to work with in Trowbridge. He was on crutches after a knee op and had come up by train, but had no way of getting home…so I said I’d take him back. We had a good old laugh, mainly at Parky’s expense – bit of a character! Daryl and Simon were glowing in praise of the recent Stevie Wonder concert they had seen at The Dome.

We laughed at the image of one of our friends at Chelsea ( the legend that is Lovejoy ) being spotted on “Match Of The Day” during the City game and being likened to Chris De Burgh by Adrian Chiles of the BBC. He won’t live that one down!

A mild evening, we walked to the ground and I picked up a copy of CFCUK at the stall…Mark Worrall was there and we said “hi.” He has been pestering me to do a few recollections of “Arsenal 184” for his next book, so I said I’d crack on with that.

Parky bought a Chelsea / Bordeaux scarf for a fiver. I bought a programme and into the stadium.

Yep, there was a scarf draped on the back of my seat – I was surprised nobody had pinched it. As the teams came onto the pitch, quite a few fans began twirling them. I was more concerned in demolishing the steak and ale pie I had just forked out £3 on.

I didn’t think that the visual impact of the scarves was as good as the flags to be honest. The sight of all four stands featuring fans with the blue and white scarves draped around their necks looked rather surreal…like a Subutteo stadium from the ‘seventies, or maybe a Hollywood version of how English football fans should look.

The game was an absolute breeze. Did Bordeaux play well? Neaux!

A snappy couple of goals from Frank and Joe gave us a deserved lead at half-time…out came the scarves-a-twirling! It was all too easy, though. I lost patience with the team in the second-half…from Big Phil’s comments, it seems I was not the only one…I felt we didn’t move the ball in the right way. It was all a bit laboured. Deco, especially, was off the pace and then gave away a really silly foul which earned him a deserved yellow. Good to see Ballack back – he tried to open up the defence a few times, but as the game moved on, I was sure it would end 2-0.

Two late goals gave us a really comfortable win…lovely finish from Malouda. A fearsome strike from Belletti rattled the crossbar at The Shed End ( Parky was sat right behind it! ) and Anelka poked home. Anelka did OK actually.

Couldn’t help but note the atmosphere wasn’t great at all…a few sections tried to get things going to no avail. For a big club, Bordeaux’ away following of only 300 was pitiful. Parky reckoned the Shed were singing “where were you at Agincourt?” to them!

The match was sold-out, apart from one key area…noticed that there were quite a few gaps in the middle of The Shed ( Gate 4 ). I have noticed this many times before…I have a feeling this is where the club puts people on complimentary tickets or on hotel packages. But why right behind the goal? Right in the middle of what should be the singing section? Answers on a postcard please.

Walking past the tube station, I noted the Chelsea / Bordeaux scarves were now down to £3!

While waiting for Parky to get back to the car, I popped into The Goose and was pleased to hear that the boozer will be open at 10am again on Sunday.

Left Old London Town at 10pm, dropped Parky off at 11.45pm and I reached home at 12.15am, my sore throat from Manchester City ever so slightly worse.

United – you are next.

Now, where did I put my noisemaker?

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Tales From Raintown

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Manchester City vs. Chelsea : 13 September 2008.

I picked up my good friend Glenn at 10am. I was a bit surprised he was wearing a lovely sky blue Napapirji sweatshirt – maybe he was hedging his bets for later in the day.

On the way to his house, I drove past the Frome Town ground…for over a century it was known as Badgers Hill. This season, a sign of the times if ever there was, it has been renamed after a local firm. Yes, Frome’s ground is now known as the Alder Smith Stadium. Corporate-naming rights hits the Screwfix League. Ridiculous. However, my mate Steve, who follows Frome home and away, tells the story that the stadium is now known by his cohorts as the “ASS” and it is now common practice for Steve to ask of his fellow fans “are you taking the wife up the ASS next week?”

Glenn has recently chosen a new career path – working for the same care company as Judy actually – and we talked about this for the first hour as we drove through a few towns on the way up to the motorway. It will probably mean he will miss more games, but there aren’t as many jobs around these days. He’s looking forward to the change anyway.

Glenn has been going to Chelsea with me since 1983. We looked back on those days. In my year of 200 fellow pupils at school, I was the only Chelsea fan. He knew of two more Chelsea fans but we were a bit of a rare breed in those days. We talked about other games involving Manchester City. I will often speak of the 1983-1984 season in these reports as that great season is a full quarter of a century away now and we talked of the home game against City in December of that year. We pummelled their goal, but lost 1-0 to a Jim Tolmie free-kick. What I remember more than anything from that game is looking down at the City bench from high up in The Shed and seeing comedian and die-hard City fan Eddie Large sat on the City bench! I can just imagine Bates telling him to get lost when he asked for a complimentary seat in the East Stand.

I lent Glenn last season’s “Blue Pride” DVD, plus the “Blue Revolution” one…should keep him occupied. I also lent him Phil Thornton’s “Casuals” – a thorough book which sums up the rise and spread of casualdom over the years. Looking back to that 1983 season, both Glenn and myself, living in Somerset, were blissfully unaware of what had been going on in Liverpool, Manchester and London over the previous six seasons. I think Glenn, on an away trip up to Carlisle, began talking to some Chelsea dressers on the special and had reported back to me about this “new trend” – actually, he probably spoke to me about this on the train on the way up to that City game in December 1983. I have the feeling we hunted around the “Mod” shops in Carnaby Street on that day and Glenn was wearing a “no-name” polo-neck shirt. He was a bit of a Mod back in those days, so his was an easy transition. By the time of the Pompey game just after Christmas 1983, I was like a kid in a toy shop, suddenly now able to spot all of the labels on display in The Benches. I was on the dole that season, so my time would come…my priorities were to see the games, not dress up too.

Anyway, I digress.

Stopped at a couple of service stations on the way up north, listening to Five Live on the radio…we were dismayed when Tevez put United ahead, but we then punched the air as Liverpool equalised. Into Manchester, through the notorious Moss Side district, a stone’s throw from City’s former home Maine Road…rows and rows of red brick terrace houses to the right and a newer, but still foreboding, estate to the left. I wondered how odd it must be for a club’s home to be transplanted to a different part of the city. How strange it must be to have to give up your favourite drinking establishments for some new ones three miles away. Let’s hope it doesn’t happen to us.

I thought back to a classic City vs. Chelsea game in March 1989…both teams in the Second division again, we took 10,000 up to City, we won 3-2 and it was mad. I remember United were playing Forest in the Cup at the same time…90,000 fans in the city on the same day…I arrived by train at Piccadilly and we were told to make our own way, by foot, to Maine Road. We were dead lucky not to have been run all over Moss Side. This game was at the height of the inflatables craze, initiated by those mad fans at City and their bananas…crazy days.

Parked up at Piccadilly…couldn’t believe the weather – hot and sunny. We popped into a restaurant for an all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet, accompanied by a couple of beers. The food was not only cheap, but bloody gorgeous. That set us up for the evening’s game. We popped into a nearby “Hurley’s”, a famous chain of Manchester menswear shops, to view their latest clothes on offer. Although not as marked as in the ‘eighties, there are still subtle differences between fans of the NW teams and the London teams. I’ve always said the London teams dress to look smart, but the originals from Manchester and Liverpool dress to be different. There was a whole room devoted to the wonderful Italian brand “Paul And Shark” and it was all good stuff. A couple of my mates, Daryl and Rob, have a few items, but “Paul And Shark” is still mostly favoured by the Mancs.

Found a local boozer, with some City lads spilling out onto the pavement…I popped in to get some San Miguels, only to spot Cathy, Dog and Mark sat right outside the door. We had a few laughs with the city lads at the expense of United, who we had discovered had lost 2-1. Oh joy of joys. Glenn, in his sky blue top, was getting asked by the City boys if he thought City would win and Glenn, not being too diplomatic, replied “no, I bloody hope not.” He was talking to a couple of chaps about the same age as us and they mentioned how great the 1983-1984 season was…four massive clubs ( us, them, Wednesday, Keegan’s Newcastle ) were locked in a battle-royale all season to get out of the division. Brilliant times, remembered with reverence and awe by all of us. They mentioned the game at Maine Road, Chelsea’s first-ever live game on TV, on a Friday night…we won 2-0 and the City fans said that they had never seen so many away fans at Maine Road.

We caught a cab to the stadium and I thought back to the game in April when Beth, Andy, Rey and Cynthia were with us. Spotted many City fans wearing towels on their heads – they were certainly getting into the spirit of things. Rather than buy a match programme, I decided to get a copy of the City fanzine “King Of The Kippax.” Back when fanzines came to the fore in the 1987 to 1989 period, I often bought other teams’ ‘zines…they were usually pretty funny and were more relevant to me than the bland programmes of the time. I wanted to get a City fans’ view on the Abu Dhabi takeover, especially since we had experienced a similar thing back in 2003.

The Kippax was the home of the city die-hards at Maine Road – along the side of the pitch, rather than the ends like The Shed, Kop, North Bank, and I noted that City’s most vociferous fans at Eastlands are along the side, too. By chance?

Soon into the stadium and I met up with Gary and Alan. I was gagging for a coke – while lining up at the kiosk, I wondered if they were selling milk-sheikhs.

This was a great Chelsea performance. Typical of Robinho to score, but the wall seemed to be ragged and too stretched out. Immediately after, Petr and JT were going at it hammer and tongs. The City fans erupted with Robinho’s strike, but thank heavens we weren’t put off. Thought we controlled the entire game and, after Riccy slammed the ball home, we could’ve been 3-1 up by the break. By the way, Glenn missed the equaliser – on the way back from the gents, he had been stopped and searched by the OB after a steward had claimed Glenn was on drugs! This is just crazy and typical of the stuff that us fans still have to go through after all these years.

We purred in the second period…thought Ashley and Bosingwa were great again, but my man of the match was Carvalho…a goal, plus several timely blocks. The man is wonderful. The only players not to perform, in my book, were the inept Malouda ( I was heard to shout “Go past someone – you’re a winger!” ) and Anelka, who seemed incapable of making the correct run at the right time…apart from the goal.

I took some nice snaps of the goal celebrations at our end and I will post some photos from the game on my Facebook page later in the week.

Joe Cole’s Dad was sat five rows in front and, as is always the case, once Little Joe was subbed, he left! But he’s always there when Joe plays, supporting his son. Top man!

City were in great voice for twenty minutes, but their support soon fell silent as our dominance continued. We were getting behind the team well – never easy at Eastlands, with our support cut in half, being in two tiers.

A few lads near us got the “Scolari – Scolari” chant going, but after a minute of that, God it hurts…that “hard C” really takes it out on your throat!

Met up with Glenn outside – he had been watching in the lower tier, quite near Lovejoy and Andy’s daughter Sophie. We had a nice chat with a City fan as we walked back to the car. We talked about the expectations that City fans now have. I was very pleased to hear him say to us “well, you lot are well liked up in these parts.” That was nice I thought – hands across the blue ocean.

We got back to the car in twenty minutes and I pulled out of Piccadilly at 8pm. Glenn soon fell asleep, until Brum, but I had New Order on the CD player to accompany me on the long drive south…I thought back on what had been a near perfect day out…and how I would chose which things to write about in this match report!

I dropped Glenn off at 11.45pm – the time had flown past. Home at midnight, a very happy Chelsea fan…a year ago, across Manchester at Old Trafford we were a club in disarray…in September 2008, at Eastlands, we showed we are once again a confident club, ready for any challenges that lie ahead.

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Tales From HQ

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Chelsea vs. Tottenham Hotspur : 31 August 2008.

So, not a great one to talk about this time, but here goes.

I had made contact with Scott, a CIA-contributor from Washington DC, who is in London for a fortnight, and made arrangements to meet up with him. He arrived into London on Saturday afternoon.

Drove into Frome, picked-up Glenn at 8.30am and then to Dave and Karen’s…Karen doesn’t mind driving and so she drove us up. We had to recalculate petrol surcharges in light of the increases of late. Negotiations were long and hard, but a compromise was eventually found!

Into the Yadana Café on Lillee Road, just as four other Frome boys were leaving. I sat myself down to my first Yadana Fry-Up of the season…just as Scott arrived on the scene. I launched into the breakfast ( for all the expats, I include this for you…do you miss home? Bacon, sausage, fried egg, fried bread, grilled tomatoes, baked beans, black pudding, bread and butter, £4.60, thank you very much, matron! )

Scott looked a bit queasy when I offered him some of my black pudding, with full explanation of ingredients of course.

I believe that this was Scott’s third game at HQ – we chatted about previous visits, then hot-footed it a few yards into the cozy confines of The Goose. Good news – as promised Scouser Reg had opened up early at 10am and a few of the boys were already on their second pint when we arrived at 11am.

Four pints in two hours isn’t particularly heavy, but they went down really well. The air was dead muggy outside and the occasional slight drizzle meant that the beer garden was sparsely-populated…most people were crowded inside. Only two hours “pre-match” meant that a lot of ground had to be covered. There was obvious chatter amongst a few of us about plans for European travel to foreign lands…Gary, Alan and me are off to Rome in November, but Rob from Essex is off to all three…can you believe this? He is going to Cluj via Dortmund and the LGW to Dortmund route via Easyjet is just £1. It’s obvious that all of the CL regulars are well-honed in European travel now and – if you look in the right places, bargains can be found! Alan had booked us into a good Rome hotel for our trip, so we were sorted.

Tried my best to include Scott in as many conversations as possible. Difficult to get to know someone while chatting to ten other chaps at the same time! I had brought up my NYC photo album and I went over to show it to Daryl and Neil ( brothers… Daryl a Yankee fan, Neil a Mets fan ) while Glenn took care of Scott. I think Scott was loving the pre-match beers – his Carlings were going down very well. I had brought Neil a few things over from New York. The pub got busier and busier. Had a quick word with the guvnor – I told Reg that his pub has now reached mythical status amongst the CIA board members. I should get a discount, the amount of Americans I have got to drink chez Reg.

Good news – the dodgy toilets have been refurbed over the summer. You no longer need to wear Wellington boots…and there is no longer a “shallow end” and a “deep end” in the Gents.

Happy days.

1pm soon came around and, with the taste of the lager still in my throat, I made a bumbling approach down the North End Road, chatting to Scott about the road’s brief cameo role in “The Football Factory” – the cab ride, in case you are wondering. We called by the stall infront of the town hall and I made sure Scott purchased a copy of CFCUK. I bought a copy of Mark Worrall’s “One Man Went to Mow”, on sale for just a tenner. It details the exploits of his bunch of mates in travels around the UK and beyond. It’s easy to read and doesn’t delve into the hoolie side of life which I guess is to be commended. Some fantastic photos in there from the dark ages of the eighties. I will enjoy reading it and may well do a review.

Got in to the MHU a bit late again…still problems with the new swipe cards. I have learnt my lesson – will leave the pub ten minutes earlier from now on.

Yeah, right!

A really warm, humid day in SW6.

Spurs had the larger 3,000 away allocation, but I spotted ( with my zoom lens ) many empty seats.

I had seen the opener against Pompey in the Shed Upper, so I said “hellos” to the familiar 15 or so faces around our seats in “Sleepy Hollow.” So good to see Tom again – he had suffered a heart attack just after the United league game in April…then again the day after Moscow. Two trips into the hospital over the summer has sorted him out though.

What shall I say about the match? I was surprised to see Belletti in the holding role. Overall, the performance by Chelsea wasn’t good at all…only Essien – possibly Belletti in his unfamiliar role – did OK in my book. It reminded me so much of the game, not long into Mourinho’s reign in 2004 – when they “came on the bus and parked the bus in front of the goal.” Certainly as frustrating as that game…but more so…we were without invention, without too much enthusiasm…this was almost a sub-Grant performance. And it wasn’t as if Tottenham were that great. In the second-half, they hardly threatened at all.

I couldn’t help but think about the positions of the two clubs going into the game…Chelsea Top Tottenham Bottom ( how good does that sound ) and how nasty it would be should we lose. February 1990 remember!!! Eighteen home league games unbeaten! Where were you in February 1990? I was in Canada…so – get this – the last time I had seen Chelsea lose at home to Spurs was in 1986 I think!

My second ever game, in October 1974, was against this lot…and although I am not sure, I think I have seen Chelsea play Spurs more times than any other team…maybe them and Liverpool.

There’s just something about them. They virtually relegated us in 1975. But there’s more than just one reason!

The game drifted along…we went 1-0 up, but the crowd didn’t seem energised. I commented to Alan that the place was dead…and he said that the pace of the game tends to die I the last few minutes of the first period…the crowd were certainly quiet. Then it happened – a mix up and the game is tied at 1-1.

Great to see Claude Makelele on the pitch at half-time. A true Chelsea legend.

The second period was worse than the first…I developed a four pint headache in the summer sun. I became annoyed with our lack of cohesion. The Wigan game was better – at least they gave us a fight.

I texted a few Americans – you know who you are – as the game petered out. Of course, the Spurs supporters celebrated as if they had won the league. Ho hum.

I walked back to the car and bumped into Dutch Mick again. We had a good old chat to each other about things…Beth – he can’t believe you are fifty!…but the talk was mainly of a poor Chelsea performance, one that leaves more questions than answers.

Got back to Frome at 6pm, just in time for me to play five-a-side in the Sport Centre. However, after just five minutes, I pulled a calf muscle and hobbled around for the rest of the game.

It was one of those days.

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