Tag Archives: London Football

Tales From My Childhood And Beyond

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Chelsea vs. Tottenham Hotspur : 20 September 2009.

When I was about six, I wrote all sorts of “football facts and figures” in an exercise book ( which I still have, somewhere ). I stuck a few stickers on the cover including a Chelsea rosette. There was a roughly drawn picture of Leeds’ Mick Jones on the cover too ( don’t ask – I don’t know why I chose him! ) Every week, I watched “Match Of The Day” and “The Big Match” and tried my hardest to write down all of the various team line-ups. I put a few items in it about Chelsea. Over a period of about two months, I noted the number of goals that Chelsea and Tottenham scored in their various league games…I guess that, even then, in around 1971, I recognised the “special rivalry” between the two clubs.

To be fair, we had London’s “The Big Match” on ITV every Sunday after lunch and the two teams always seemed to be on. Whisper it, but I greatly admired Spurs’ Alan Gilzean…I think it was because he had the same bald pate as my father. But nobody could compare to Peter Osgood, just in case anybody is worried.

My uncle Geoff, who we started to take to games in around 1975, was a Spurs fan…Spurs always seemed to be in my consciousness…more so than Arsenal, as an example. At school, there were Spurs fans, but not many Arsenal ones. I have said before that I class Spurs and Chelsea’s identity and support as a bit similar ( certainly in the ‘seventies ). West Ham were working class but entertaining, Arsenal middle class but ( pre-Wenger ) oh-so boring…Spurs’ and Chelsea’s support was mixed…lots of working class fans, lots of hoolies, lots of glamour and good footballing sides to boot.

However, my general ambivalence to Tottenham as a young lad changed after they virtually relegated us in 1975, romped to a hideous 3-1 win at The Bridge in 1978 ( yes – I was present…I can still feel the pain…Hoddle, Ardiles and Villa causing havoc after our man Tommy Langley scored with a bicycle kick ) and then knocked us out of the FA Cup in 1982.

Scars which go deep.

Of course, we have had the upper hand over them for two decades now. The 32 league game unbeaten run from February 1990 to November 2006 was epic and so enjoyable. The last time I was physically present at a Spurs defeat of Chelsea at the Bridge was way back in 1986!

Karen, Dave, Lord Parky, Glenn’s mate Steve and myself set off from Somerset at 10.15am. Parky was in constant chatter mode as a ska compilation CD was played on the drive up. We then had a dance compilation. I think Parky is going to do his version of Lady Ga Ga’s “Poker Face”…Lord Ga Ga’s “Parky Face.”

Straight into the pub for a nice pre-match…the service was rubbish, though. It took ages to get served. There was a proper gathering of the clans, with clusters of my mates from Nuneaton, Trowbridge and London talking in the beer garden and inside the pub too. Mo was nearby, chatting to Stan. After a while, Mike ( NY ) and Kevin ( MI ) showed-up just as the Manchester derby was got into full swing. What a game, by the way – there were massive shouts of approval each time City equalised, then a horrendous groan once we heard Owen had tipped it 4-3 in United’s favour. A draw would have been lovely. Still, City’s defeat meant we were the only unbeaten team left.

The big talking point of the day was my good friend Alan’s admission that he had starred as an extra in the new Nick Love film “The Firm.” His scene was filmed almost a year ago and he told us that he is in it for about ten seconds, if you know where to look. We were all surprised to hear this – he hadn’t said anything in case his scene never made it past the editing. I remember the original, starring Gary Oldman, which came out in 1989…I can’t wait to see this now, especially on DVD – with that pause button ready! Alan had to wear a truly chronic Gabicci pullover. All the clothes are meant to be spot on apparently. Which brings us nicely to –

Lacoste Watch

Alan – dark blue
Lord Parky – royal blue
Chris – pink
Jokka – sky blue

Onwards to the game! More trouble at the turnstiles with the scanners, but I reached my seat just as the kick-off took place…perfect timing.

It was a perfect day for football. Dry and not too hot. I noticed yet another new banner, draped to my left over the balcony. It quoted the Suggs’ song from 1997.

“The only place to be every other Saturday.”

We are to be commended for our “Chelsea Style” banners which brighten up the balconies and walls of The Bridge. I love the simple and evocative “Born Is the King.”

There was a nice piece about Vic Flaherty in the programme.

Programme Quick Quiz

1. How many goals did Spurs legend Clive Allen score in 24 appearances for Chelsea?

2. Who was Chelsea’s manager when we last lost against Spurs at home?

3. Gus Poyet made 149 appearances for us. Did he play more or less during his three years spell at Spurs?

4. Which Blues defender scored a loast-gasp winner at Spurs in 2001/2002?

We began brightly and I captured the Bosingwa shot which rocked the bar on film. However, Spurs came back into it and had a fair amount of the ball, despite only a Defoe shot really bothering us. Cech saved that one well. The noise was good at the start – all of that pre-match beer had the desired effect…but then it quietened a bit. The Spurs’ slow dirge “Oh when the spurs…blah, blah, blah” was not really met with a response from The Shed. Disappointing. Then – how soon that changed…a fantastic cross and Ashley stooped to conquer. This was the perfect response a Spurs’ song about Cole and Sol Campbell. Oh – how we laughed.

Alan – “They’ll have to come at us know.”
Chris – “Come on my little diamonds.”

Buzzing at half-time…I went off for a £3 steak and ale pie. Paul Elliott was on the pitch at the break and I wondered how many Chelsea “fans” knew who he was. I was a bit late back to my seat, but Alan told me that Carlo got a great reception from the Matthew Harding at the start of the second half. This was nice to hear – I have a lot of respect for Carlo…one of the good guys. However, his Spurs kit looked baggy and didn’t fit him that well…he really should have gone to a club with more style!

I was sat next to Steve ( a neutral fan – a rare breed ) and he asked me –

“What is it about Ballack? He doesn’t seem to fit in” Indeed, he hadn’t had a great game. Alan was on his case, too. No more than a minute later, Frank set up Ballack to make it 2-0.

What do we know, eh? More celebrations and more laughter. The game now appeared safe and we were looking at six wins out of six. The day was rounded off with an exceptional goal from the rejuvenated Drogba…this was the definitive Drogba goal infact.

The anticipation, the sprint, the strength, the touch, the guile, the power.

He rounded the hapless Carlo…the anticipation reached epic proportions and he slammed the ball in.

Quite spectacular…a fantastic goal.

With the crowd rejuvenated too, the MHL serenaded Jimmy Floyd Hasselbaink, who was in full view in the TV studio, overlooking the north-east corner. He was loving it.

It was good to see the Chelsea support clap off the injured Bassong…nice to see we can be well-mannered when required.

After a while, the Spurs fans decided that they would start getting behind their team and they did make a fair racket…but no more so than when we went to The Lane in March. This seems to be the norm now…often the 3,000 away fans out-sing the home fans. A Spurs fan was led out of the Upper East and – rather comically – the away fans were full of it. Never mind you are losing 3-0, never mind you haven’t beaten us at The Bridge since 1990 – one fan has been led out of the home area.

Big deal!

Outside, the crowds were slowly moving past The So Bar and I realised that the police had let out the Spurs fans at the same time as us. It got a bit tetchy – lots of gesturing, but I didn’t see anything. I am sure that Spurs made a big deal about “out-singing” the Chelsea support ( which they did for only some of the time ) but – to be honest – despite the rivalry, Chelsea Football Club has moved on and have much bigger fish to fry than Tottenham.

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Tales From The Streets Of Fulham

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Fulham vs. Chelsea : 23 August 2009.

This was a convincing win on a sultry Sunday down by The Thames.

I picked up Big Dave at 10am and an oh-so familiar route was followed on the way up to London. 112 miles later, we were parked-up. On all of the visits to Craven Cottage, we have met up at a pub in Putney, south of the river, called The Duke’s Head but this has become very expensive. So, this year, we decided to partake in a few beers in The Goose and save some money.

But first, a fry-up for the Frome Two at The Yadana Café on Lillee Road.

We arrived in The Goose at about 12.30pm. The boys were sat around a table in the beer garden and it was a very pleasant time. Three pints of Carling at only £1.79 a pint is not to be sniffed at. A quick “hello” to Simon ( one of our “Benches” crew from the mid-eighties…I had not seen him from 1986 to 2003 and now he reappears every few months…lovely. ) This was the first time I had visited The Goose on a non-Chelsea home game and it was eerily quiet…I expected a few Fulham fans to be present, but only saw a couple. I soon settled down to a relaxed pre-match with – clockwise – Daryl, Alan, Gary, Dave, Rob, Simon and Milo. It was the first time I had seen Simon and his twelve year old son Milo this season and I had a few gifts for Milo from America. He is our kinda mascot as he is so much younger than the rest of us. I brought over a few Yankees things for him – he had been to a game in New York last summer, too.

There was the usual smattering of jokes and micky-takes and the lovely anecdotes which bind us all together. Yet again, we never mentioned the game.

One thing made me laugh. I had been doing some gardening on Saturday afternoon and my right forearm was scratched from the brambles. Rob noticed and asked –

“Chris – what’s up with your arms?”

“Ah – been doing some gardening. Don’t worry, I’m not a self-harmer.”

“Oh – I thought you were hating the fact you had missed Sunderland away!”

With the Champions League draw taking place on Thursday, we spent a few minutes discussing options for us. I fancied Real Madrid, but would I want to go there twice in the same season? Rob fancied Maccabi Tel Aviv. However, I think I can only go to an away game on Matchday Five or Six due to work commitments.

We took the tube to Putney Bridge and walked through Bishops Park. The park was full of sunbathers and, on the last few moments of our approach to the ground, there was a paddling pool and sand area, full of toddlers…a pretty incongruous sight, with hundreds of football fans marching past. I love visiting Craven Cottage…it’s a throwback to another age and the Johnny Haynes Stand on Stevenage Road is a jewel.

Of course, if Fulham had taken the option offered by Gus Mears in 1904 to move out of their Craven Cottage ground, there would be no Chelsea today. I managed to smuggle my camera into the stadium with a swift manoeuvre – no need for Andy Wray’s bulging shorts this time.

A quick chorus of “Carefree” from the Chelsea faithful in the area below the terrace was met with this interchange between a young boy and his disdainful father –

“Dad – why are they singing swear words?”

“…because they haven’t grown up yet.”

I glowered at the father and I hope he got the message. Who honestly wants to grow up you miserable git? He symbolised our new support and it annoyed me.

Into the stadium and I had a seat towards the back in row QQ – pretty central. One row in front of a chap I recognised from The Storm Cellar and the Club America game, I believe he is a friend of Vic The Steward. I was stood behind Ian, also present in Texas. A small world. It is, of course, always an especially small world for me. I was stood next to Lurch…a Chelsea fan from the East Midlands who weighs in at about 6’5”. I was actually stood next to his armpits…it wasn’t the sweet smell of success I was inhaling all bloody afternoon.

Joe Cole got a lovely reception as he walked past us all to take his seat in the away dugout. I took a few shots of the teams as they walked across the pitch from the changing rooms underneath the cottage…a lovely sight. Away to my right, I spotted the top half of The London Eye, but the towering east and west stands of Stamford Bridge were hidden by the cottage…out of sight, but not out of mind for Fulham, who really don’t like us. They will always be in our shadows. That’s just the way it is. Always have been – always will be.

The game began and it was even during the first exchanges. I noted Frank at the top of the diamond again. Clint Dempsey shot over after only a few minutes and this turned out to be their best effort during the entire game. We replied with a resounding “OMWTM” and the away stand shook. This was quickly followed by the first of many “Bouncies” and this was met with playful comments from a middle-aged guy to my left who was wearing a Jane Fonda inspired headband…quite a surreal sight.

“Feel the burn, mate.”

I like the way that the “Matthew Harding’s Blue And White Army” chant has been resurrected…but I think this is because Carlo Ancelotti has too many syllables…what does anyone else think? At least we were singing, though. I waited 27 minutes until I heard the home fans sing. We were, by comparison, in a noisy mod. Good stuff.

Chelsea went on to dominate the first-half and a lovely move was finished off with aplomb by Didier Drogba.

At half-time, the microphone was taken over by veteran DJ David “Diddy” Hamilton and it was odd to hear him getting all excited about Fulham. He used to be on Radio One back in the ‘seventies.

Chelsea has Paul Okenfold. Fulham has David “Diddy” Hamilton. No contest.

The sun shimmered on the Thames, to my left, as the second period began.

The game progressed and a strong Chelsea dominated, but without a great amount of chances. I thought JT had a pretty poor game and gave the ball away too often. Carvalho, however, was superb and was my Man Of The Match. Frank seemed quiet and almost suffocated in that role behind the rampaging front two…he just needs more space to roam. Ballack played well and was always involved…Mikel strong defensively, but again so slow in possession. Malouda just needs to be played wider. All of my focus was on the midfield four, but the front two appear to be “getting to know each other.”

A lovely ball from Didi to Anelka and 2-0…job done. This came after a little lull, both on and off the pitch – just when Fulham might have nicked one. Game over.

During the last dieing embers of our game, the Chelsea support erupted in praise of the news that The Ashes had been regained, no more than three miles away at The Oval.

I met up with Big Dave outside the gates and we briskly walked back to the car, some two miles away, through the deserted streets of Fulham. Once the working class catchment area of both SW6 teams’ support in the days of old, the tightly-packed streets have undergone yuppyfication since the ‘eighties and there seemed to be nobody at home…all away for the weekend maybe? It was as if the game had never taken place.

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Tales From Green Street And Fulham Road

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West Ham United vs. Chelsea : 25 April 2009.

This is what we call the “business end of the season” – just a shame we have to do business in the hell hole that is Upton Park.

I picked up two lads – Ashley and Andy – from Trowbridge en route to collecting Lord Parky at 8.15am from his village between Trowbridge and Melksham. There was strange weather as we headed up the M4…the phrase “sunny intervals and scattered showers” was never more appropriate. Luckily, the inclement weather had finished by the time we hit Chelsealand. I was parked up by 10am and a breakfast soon followed. The plan was to meet up at The Spotted Dog in Barking, JT’s home town, a couple of stops past Upton Park on the District Line. From West Brompton to Barking is a full twenty-five stops…we set off at 11am and hit Barking at midday. For anyone who cares, the West Ham ground is at Upton Park tube, not West Ham.

On the train, I was talking to Parky about the rivalries between the big London clubs. West Ham seem to hate Millwall and dislike Spurs and us intently. Not sure what they think of Arsenal. I personally dislike Spurs most and Alan loathes Arsenal. What of West Ham? Back when I was a youth, in the early ‘eighties, West Ham and Chelsea were both in the Second Division and I bracketed us together in terms of “size” at the time, though we were always potentially massive. Since then, Arsenal have moved on in terms of comparisons with Tottenham, while we are on a different footballing planet to West Ham. And how we love it.

Twenty-five years ago, Chelsea were hitting the business end of the 1983-84 season. Our entertaining team was on the brink of promotion, having let a 2-0 lead at Pompey slip, ending up with a 2-2 draw. I didn’t go to that game, on a Wednesday evening, but was going to the next game…the momentous encounter with Leeds ( yeah them – of all teams ) on Saturday 28th April. For those new to this site, I have been detailing my matchday experiences over this season and that fantastic season, all those years ago.

But in some ways – it seems like yesterday.

On that Saturday morning, my father dropped me off in Frome and I met Glenn near his house before we walked down to PD’s flat. Gary and Mark, from Westbury, arrived outside by car and we were soon off. I was sat in the back with Glenn and PD ( just as I often do in 2009! ) and the talk was of Chelsea all the way up to London. We parked near the ground – near Worlds End I reckon – and were soon heading back towards the North End Road. The others had some food in the Pie And Mash Shop ( now long gone, alas ) before hopping over the road for pre-match bevies in The Cock ( now The Cock And Hen ). This was a historic day for me. I was eighteen, but this was the first time I had ever been in a pub at Chelsea. Before then, I was always broke, and I seem to remember having a single lager and lime. The pub filled up and I remember talking to a lad from Reading. The songs started up and “One Man Went To Mow” was the song of that season…we all sat until “nine”, then exploded onto our feet on “ten.” The pub was a riot of noise. I felt as if I was coming of age…this was my tenth game of the season…not bad for someone who spent the entire season on the dole, getting by on £25 per week. I guess a trip to Chelsea used to cost me £15 in those days. It was my life – maybe even more so than now.

Glenn and myself headed off to get into The Shed at 1.30pm or so – no tickets in those days, we had to be sure we could get in! We paid the extra £1 to get a transfer on to The Benches, that hot bed of young and exuberant Chelsea support. The weekend before, I had travelled to Bath to buy my first ever bona fide casual garment, a mid blue and white Pringle, which cost me £25 or one week’s dole. I wore that with my Chelsea shirt underneath, some jeans and a pair of white shoes. I felt the business. I belonged.

It was a gloriously sunny day. I was hoping that our season best gate of 35,000 would be surpassed – I hoped for one of 40,000. The place was buzzing. Lo and behold, the lads who had been sat in front of us against Fulham were now sat behind us…perfect. I think they admired the fact we were from Somerset. Extra kudos for us! Amongst the lads ( Alan, Paul, Mark, Leggo, Rich, Dave and Simon ) the labels were out in evidence. It was like a fashion parade.

And Chelsea were going up! We just had to get a draw, I think.

For anyone who was there, I am sure these words are taking everyone back. It was as near a perfect game as I can ever remember..

Chelsea beat Leeds United – our old foes, both on the pitch, on the terraces and in common folklore – by five goals to nil that sunny April day in 1984. The atmosphere was electric. Mickey Thomas – our unlikely new hero – opened the scoring. Kerry Dixon scored a hat-trick and Pat Nevin – I remember – wove in and out, around and around, before setting Kerry up for one of the goals. Johnny Bumstead hit the post, in the same place, twice. Ken Bates, the chairman, came onto the pitch at half-time to appeal for us all to stay in the stands. He was applauded – and his name was song with gusto. There is a classic picture taken by John Ingledew of The Benches that day, looking up and back at thousands of Chelsea faces…99% male, 99% white, 75% between the ages of 18 and 25. It’s a picture that is worth a million words and – every time I see it – I am taken back to a wilder, crazier time. Believe it or not, at 4-0, Leeds got behind their team with a noisy song and the Benches stood up to applaud them.

In the last ten minutes, thousands of pastel-clad Chelsea fans lined the pitch in preparation for the final whistle. We were winning 4-0 and the PA had to keep telling the fans to stay in the stands. Then, a mazy dribble from supersub Paul Canoville and – you silly boy! – he scored at The Shed End.

Pandemonium!

Thousands of hysterical Chelsea fans flooded the pitch and the players were lost. After five minutes of pleading, the pitch was cleared and the referee soon blew up. Within seconds, the stands emptied and about 5,000 Chelsea fans invaded the pitch. I was one of them – my first foray onto the sacred turf – and it was fantastic to be there. The Leeds fans, unsurprisingly were not enjoying the proceedings. This must have been purgatory for them. A few of them began smashing our scoreboard. There was a charge by some Chelsea towards them, but the police kept the two factions apart. To be fair, the Leeds fans ( the Service Crew and all ) were penned in, anyway. There were about 3,000 of them.

The players and the management team appeared in the front row of the East Upper – I remember Pat Nevin sitting on the balcony! – and all was perfect in my world. After five years of ridicule by my peers, jettisoned in the Second Division – Chelsea were back,

You’d better beware!

We eventually left the pitch. I remember the dry dirt being kicked up by us all and there was a smell of football in the air – a heady mix of grass, mud, beer and testosterone. We walked off behind the Shed goal and a stranger came up to me and said “We’re playing Tottenham!” and I said

“Yep…Tottenham…and Liverpool…and Man United…and Arsenal..and West Ham!”

He gave me a big hug.

We got back to the car and began an oh-so slow drive home…on Radio Two, coach John Hollins was describing Pat Nevin’s cross for Kerry Dixon.

…”and Pat, bless him, went on this amazing run…I don’t know if he beat three players four times or four players three times.”

On the elevated section of the M4, Chelsea cars were blaring their horns…thumbs up from strangers…one car slowed down and passed us a can of beer. It was an idyllic moment as we drove west into the setting sun, past Slough and beyond…oh just beautiful.

Chelsea were back.

Of all my current friends at Chelsea, virtually all of them were at that iconic game in 1984. We have come a long way, baby.

On Saturday, a few of us were enjoying our pre-match meet in Barking. Parky and myself were chatting to Bob from San Francisco – he flew over for just one game. At the adjacent table, laughter was booming out from Daryl, Gary, Alan and Whitey. Soon, Beth and Jenni joined us, but Mo and Tom were yet to appear. The beers flowed and stories were exchanged. At last Mo showed up at about 2pm and it was soon time to leave for the game. Tom eventually arrived by cab ( despite Beth telling him to take the tube ) and I had to say

“There has to be anotherway, Motherway.” He grimaced.

Parky, Bob and myself lost the others and got to Upton Park at 2.40pm…out into the bright sunshine of Green Street.

Ah, Green Street…I did find it superbly ironic that American Bob had successfully infiltrated our tight little crew. Maybe we can make a film about it.

Through the terraced streets behind the away end – no fear of an ambush these days – and we were soon inside the Centenary Stand. We arranged to meet up after…I was stood next to my two away buddies, Alan and Gary. The three beers had set me up nicely. It was sunny, with white fluffy clouds taking over from grey ones as the afternoon drew on.

A minute’s applause for ex-hammer Jimmy Neighbour was well respected by us. Good to see.

The game? We had so much possession, in the first period especially, but West Ham had the best two chances, especially the shot from Dyer which Cech saved. All eyes were on Bosingwa, getting some practice ahead of a potentially messy time on Tuesday night in Catalonia. I was impressed with the solid midfield of Mikel, Belletti and Frank. Mancienne did well. It was just upfront where we became unstuck. Kalou had a lot of the ball but was frustrating the hell out of Gary. Anelka was having one of his lazy days too. At half-time we wondered if all of our easy possession would account for nothing.

Ball juggler Billy Wingrove put on a superb show of skills at half-time. I watched, mesmerized.

Soon into the second period, Frank did so well to hook out a ball from the goal-line and Kalou slammed the ball high into the net. Get in! A couple of women in front unfurled an Ivory Coast flag and muttered something about Gary being “happy now” about Kalou. Until that point, they had watched in silence. 1984 seemed a long way off.

I thought the West Ham fans were pretty quiet, but they apparently sung some nasty songs about Frank and JT. What a deeply jealous, odious, set of fans they are. Jealousy seeps out of every pore.

What a phenomenal penalty save from Cech, down to his left, a mere five yards away from me. I wish I had taken a photo, but I don’t often like taking snaps of opposing penalties. We controlled the game and should have scored more. However – players rested, three points, job done!

The funniest part of the entire day was seeing Frank slowly walk towards us at the end, the last player to come over. He glanced over towards the last few West Ham fans left in the Chicken Run and – for want of a better word – swaggered towards us, just like a casual from 1984, legs wide, arms outstretched. It was poetry in motion. He acknowledged us and pumped the air…he milked the applause and why not? We love him and he loves us. West Ham can perish for all I care.

I caught the tube with Bob and at 6.15pm we were back at Earls Court. Eventually, Parky, Ashley and Andy arrived too. Straight around the corner for a pizza at Salvo’s. United were on the TV, losing 1-2, but within ten minutes of us sitting at a table, they were 5-2 up. What a mad game, but we didn’t care. The League is over this season, but we have Wembley and Rome ahead.

In 1984, we listened to Slade on the drive back to Wiltshire.

In 2009, we listened to Drum And Base.

Yep – we’ve come a long way, baby.

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Tales From N17

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Tottenham Hotspur vs. Chelsea : 21 March 2009.

In many ways a lovely day out – great weather, great friends, a close game – but also an awful day out.

I left my Somerset village at just after 9am. The clusters of snowdrops in the hedgerows have now given way to thousands of daffodils in my village. It’s a picture. The weather was beautiful on the drive up to London. This was the first Chelsea game in my new car ( Vauxhall Corsa, black, wheel in each corner ) and I was just loving the drive. I had bought a Juve air freshener in Turin and I now have a Juve and Chelsea one on display. It just looks right. My head has been full of the CL draw, full of our plans to get tickets for the FA Cup semi final and full of plans for the summer tour. I am trying to talk Judy into coming with me. Judy likes the buzz of Chelsea – however, she doesn’t know there’ll be a baseball game thrown in for good measure. I will try and convince her that she’s a lucky girl! Watch this space.

I realised that there was a rugby game at Twickers and so again came in via the M25 and M4. Caught a tube from West Brompton and the warm weather surprised me. I eventually reached Liverpool Street and was soon outside The White Hart with Alan, Gary and Whitey. There are three pre-match boozers at Liverpool Street and the White Lion seemed the less busy. There was a mix of Spurs and Chelsea at The Railway Tavern, but there was a big mob of Chelsea at the Hamilton Hall. We spotted Rosey Cheeks and his colleagues keeping an eye on us all.

I only had time for a small coke before we caught the over ground train to Northumberland Park, just a few minutes to the east of Tottenham’s ground.

Ah, Tottenham…our biggest London rivals. Some would say our only rivals. While Spurs seem to reserve their most bitter rivalry for their North London rivals Arsenal, Chelsea certainly do not get on with Spurs. People tell me that this rivalry became intense after the 1967 FA Cup Final, but I just about remember the League Cup battles of 1972 and of course the relegation battle at Tottenham in April 1975. We lost that day and the Second Division beckoned…maybe oblivion. Two other games stick out…the 1-3 loss at The Bridge in November 1978 when the fighting was intense off the pitch, the football even worse on it. Then the 1982 FA Cup loss really hurt.

However, since then, we haven’t done too badly eh? Let’s never forget that massive long unbeaten league run against them. As if we could ever forget that.

What’s my take on this Chelsea / Spurs rivalry? Until the last ten years, I always perceived Arsenal to be the biggest club in London, but also the most staid and boring, with a predominantly middle-class support. Chelsea and Tottenham, though – at least in my childhood – seemed to be eerily similar…good in cups rather than the league, a mix of hard-nosed working class support but also the “glamorous” angle too with celebrity fans of both clubs. The hooliganism always seemed to be prevalent at Chelsea vs. Spurs games. There has always been that “edge.” I always used to revel in the perceived view that Spurs fans were very fickle back when I was younger. Not like us – not like Chelsea. No cups but rock-solid support! To be honest, I am fascinated by these subtle differences between sets of fans.

Strangely, when I was cutting my teeth as a football fan in around 1971, I used to favour certain players of other teams and specifically I used to like Clyde Best of West Ham, Steve Highway of Liverpool and – rather worryingly – Alan Gilzean and Pat Jennings of Tottenham. I’m sure other fans were the same. How many football fans could have resisted Peter Osgood and Charlie Cooke? Going way back to that era, I used to have a little “football book” of my own in which I used to write down team line-ups from the TV games. I also memorably remember writing Chelsea and Tottenham results over a two month period and hoping that Chelsea would fare better than the lilywhites, as they were known.

So – Chelsea and Tottenham. It goes deep.

We arrived at White Hart Lane just after 2pm. Al and Gary bought some chips and we sauntered towards the away end on Park Lane. We soon saw that something was up – the police had blocked the road as an unattended van was parked on the road. There were obviously concerns that this could be a bomb threat. I wondered that if it went off, it would cause £10 worth of damage. The area around Spurs’ ground is far from salubrious. Both sets of fans stood together, though the Chelsea fans tended not to wear colours. However, we were allowed in at 2.45pm with the news that the game would start at 3.30pm.

We had good seats in the upper tier. Noted a lot of familiar faces, including Gerry Kelly, who Cathy has spoken about. Before we had a chance to get into our game, news came through that Scholes had been sent-off at Fulham and Fulham were 1-0 up. The perfect start, eh?

This was only my ninth ever visit to Tottenham. I have been put off from going throughout “the run” in case I jinxed it. The last time I came away from Tottenham tasting defeat was in August 1987 when about 8,000 Chelsea invaded Tottenham hoping to see us stay at the top of the league. In truth, Chelsea had only ever lost once in the league in those 22 years, that narrow 1-2 loss a few years back.

As Gary said during the game, he can’t remember us ever playing so poorly at Tottenham. Modric bossed the midfield in the first-half and Spurs had the best chances, despite a promising start from us. I was surprised that the Spurs support was so quiet – it has been louder in days past. Maybe their recent couple of triumphs over us has extinguished that fire.

“We won 6-1, we won 6-1, we won 6-1 at The Lane, we won 6-1, we won 6-1, we won 6-1 at The Lane.”

We’ll always have that!

Yes, we were really poor in the first half. The formation was again quoted as 4-3-3, but I thought that Anelka and Drogba played quite close in the first twenty minutes. In that spell, it resembled a 4-4-2. Essien played well, but the rest of the midfield went missing.

It was a steak through the heart when Modric drilled home on fifty minutes. At last the home support showed some life. I was confident that we would push on throughout the remainder. Alas, we only really sprang to life late on. We couldn’t fathom how Ballack stayed on throughout the substitutions – yet another awful 90 minutes from the Number 13. We presumed that Essien just hit a wall and had to be replaced. To be fair, Quaresma and then Malouda ( of all people ) did OK in that last period. We pushed on and had a few half-chances. News of a second Fulham goal made things worse, not better.

Yet again, Frank’s set plays were terrible. Can somebody else please take them? No variance in his corners…always lofted so slowly with back spin. Whip it in man!

The game was on a knife edge, but thankfully Spurs did not score a second. That Gomes save from JT and the Alex header onto the bar just made it all the more frustrating. I was getting wound up, shouting my annoyance, yelling my support, getting more irate by the minute.

It wasn’t to be. The Spurs support roared and I felt sick.

I thought it was going to kick-off outside when I saw a Spurs fan in his ‘forties with brushed back hair eyeballing Whitey and me…

We slouched back to White Hart Lane station – Northumberland Park was off limits – and we quietly boarded a train into London. A day of lost opportunities, no mistake. I chatted for a few minutes with Mark, a mate I have known since that 1983-84 season. We talked about a couple of friends who no longer go and had an impromptu post-mortem on the state of the team and the club. Neither of us could fathom how Ballack and Malouda are favoured by every management team we have. Simply baffling. It was good to chat with Mark – with a smile at our predicament, it was a perfect Chelsea way of dealing with our under-achievement.

I said my goodbyes to the boys and headed west on the central line. I resurfaced at Earls Court and walked past a boozer just as Ireland’s dropped goal won them the Six Nations. I couldn’t care less to be honest.

I called in for a meal at Salvo’s. He was pleased to see me. He had been watching the Chelsea game on Italian TV with three Chelsea fans, then the rugby…he was rather merry, to say the least. A couple of Peronis, some sardines and a pizza later and I was in a better state of mind. I was even able to watch the first-half of the Roma vs. Juve game.

A day completely devoted to football.

What else are you going to do on a Saturday?

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Tales From The Borough

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Fulham vs. Chelsea : 28 December 2008.

There are three professional football clubs in the Borough of Hammersmith and Fulham.

Chelsea, Fulham and Queens Park Rangers all lie within about three miles of each other – the three grounds must be the closest three in all of the UK. I have an inherent dislike of QPR and I know this stems from the brief period of my youth when – despite small gates – QPR were able to Lord it over us on the pitch. That really hurt.

Fulham are a bit different. I, like most Chelsea fans I know, have a genuine soft-spot for them…but that winds the Fulham fans up even more.

You see – they don’t like us. They don’t like us one little bit.

The last time Fulham finished above us was in 1982-83 when they narrowly missed out on promotion to the top division. This is how bad it was – QPR were already in Division One and Chelsea were trying to fight off relegation to Division Three. Yes, dear reader, in Spring 1983, Chelsea Football Club was bottom, by some distance, in The Hammersmith & Fulham League Table. But more about 1983 later.

Craven Cottage, down by The Thames, is one of my favourite away games.

I set off alone – in the end,Cookie was making his on way up with some more friends from Shepton Mallet – at 8.45am and for the first hour it was yet another crisp, clear and sunny winter morning. As I approached Stonehenge, the roads were icy and I needed to slow my speed. I received a call from my mate in Turin, Tullio, checking about accommodation for the Juventus trip – I’m really hoping that both he and Mario ( now residing in Germany ) can get tickets for that one.

Stopped at Fleet for a McBreakfast and had a chat with some Yeovil fans en route to Millwall. Yeovil are Somerset’s only league team and I look out for their results. The weather got a bit greyer as I approached London. Cookie was already parked-up and I gave him directions of how to get to our “meet”, the Duke’s Head in Putney. As I veered off the usual approach to Chelsea, heading south of the river, in through Mortlake, Barnes and Putney, I couldn’t help but notice the huge amount of Young’s pubs. A real London brewery. I parked up at 11am and headed for the pub, wondering if I would be the first one in.

No chance – Alan, Daryl, Ed and Neil were already at a long table in the corner, pints in front of them. Daryl was supping on a Young’s Light Ale. Gary soon joined us. Ed, the youngster – Daryl’s 17 year old son – had been on the ale the previous night and was nursing a hangover…bottled water for him. I bought a pint of Nastro Azzurro and was knocked out by the price – £4.05. Welcome to Putney!

The pub filled up quickly – a mixture of Fulham and Chelsea. My mate Andy from Nuneaton joined us for a beer. He rarely misses a game. Eliot from the New York Blues popped in – he was over visiting relatives for the Xmas period and it was good to see him. I last saw him out in LA, where he masterminded the fans’ football competition. No sign of Cookie!

We set off on the twenty minute walk to The Cottage – up and over Putney Bridge, the icy wind blowing off The Thames. My new Victorinox coat was passing its first real test with flying colours. I know that a few CIAers have visited Craven Cottage and it’s a very nice ground…I can’t really call it a stadium as such. It’s homey rather than grand. I am told that the Johnny Haynes Stand – the old one on Stevenage Road – has exactly the same dimensions as the old East Stand at Chelsea – both Leitch stands.

Back in 1983-84, one of Chelsea’s defining moments took place at Fulham, where about 25,000 saw us win 5-3 in the October. Alas – I didn’t go, but my mate Glenn did. Oh – and Daryl, Andy, Alan, Gary and Neil. I was gutted I missed it…”how dare you score five without me being there!”

My fifth trip to HQ in 1983 was for the Portsmouth game on December 27th…I travelled up with my parents…they had seats in the East Lower, but I had decided to get in amongst The Benches, for the first time in fact since my first ever game in 1974. Up until that point, all of my games that season had been in The Shed, but both Glenn ( who was staying in London with his grandparents ) and myself fancied a change. Portsmouth, newly-promoted, brought a good following to The Bridge and we were both looking forward to some banter with the away fans on that huge slug of terrace to our left.

And – it would give us a chance to get in amongst the trendies.

Yep – December 1983 against Pompey was when I was brought up to speed with the football fashions of the time. Both Glenn and myself had entered the season completely oblivious to the movement which had, unbeknown to us, been developing in the main football cities since 1977. Now, many books have been written and many magazine articles devoted to this vibrant sub-culture…”the thing with no name” one Manc calls it…but I can only describe it from my perspective.

Most youth trends are music based. God knows, Britain in 1983, had many – there had been the Mod revival of 1979, skinheads, suedeheads and two-tone / ska boys and girls were in abundance, the punks were still around, the Goths were about, the soul boys ( definitely a London phenomenon ) too…then we had the lighter end of it all – the new romantics, the Duranies, the girls who dressed like make-up was going out of fashion…and hip hop was making inroads too.

But – as Glenn and myself were to find out over the remaining months of that most seminal of footy seasons, here was a movement which was solely based around what young people wore to football. It was a tantalisingly “underground” movement – that’s what made it so amazing to us. None of my friends back in Frome would be clued up about it for years and years – some still aren’t. Not only was Chelsea playing some great football, but I was going to more games and now this.

“What – a totally new way of dressing up, based on football? YES PLEASE! Where do I sign up?”

There’s no point trying to reinvent history – up until December 1983, I really had no clue. However – looking back – I guess by some kind of fashion fluke, I could have been mistaken for a football trendy. I have a photo of myself, taken on holiday in the summer of 1981 in Italy with Tullio and Mario, polo shirt, cords and a pair of Dunlop green flash. If I squint and avoid the glaring mistakes, I guess I could be mistaken for a football trendy. But I’d really have to squint hard. The horrible bog standard English schoolboy haircut gave it away. If I had been in the know, I would have realised that The Wedge was the way forward. There are people in their forties who coolly claim that the whole movement, the whole football thing, began with The Wedge in Liverpool in 1977. Who am I to argue? However, during the summer of 1983, I had helped myself to a great new haircut…before it the standard fringe and hair over the ears…we all had this haircut. Horrible it was. But, I decided to change all that..get a side-parting and sort myself out. Without really knowing it, my transformation from clueless fan to wedged-up trendy was beginning.

So – The Benches 1983 – a crisp sunny winter morning, my first Chelsea Xmas game and Glenn and myself clocking all of the hitherto unnoticed fashions of the time.

Why were those lads only wearing light blue jeans, many with side splits? Look at all those pastel-coloured jumpers! Look – they’re either Pringles ( small lion rampant, how Chelsea! ) or Lyle and Scotts ( yellow eagle )…why are all the trainers either Nikes or – what are they? What make are THEY? Diadoras? Dunno. Never seen them before.

Then the hairstyles…those side-partings, those huge flopping fringes, the famous flick… lads with hands in pockets, posing, walking up and down the Benches like a catwalk…what is that badge…a crocodile? And another! What is that?

John McEnroe’s Sergio Tacchini and Bjorn Borg’s Fila. Desert boots. Scarfs. Ski-jackets. Bright colours. Swagger.

Glenn and myself were hooked. Funny – at the time, it really was the cult with no name. Glenn called them “trendies”, quite correctly as it happens…but the cult was never really sure of itself…I would learn later – after much research! – that “the football trendies” were known as “casuals”, “scallies”, “perries”, “dressers” and “trendies.”

And here’s the thing – it was all about the football, the terraces, the away games, the specials, the buzz, the noise, the colour, the lifestyle.

Chelsea versus Pompey at Xmas 1983 opened my eyes. The game ended 2-2 and was notable for two things…Kerry Dixon missing two penalties and a lone Pompey fan, high on the terrace, hanging on to a fence, gesturing to us down below…dressed in pink.

The Benches were roaring…”who’s the poser in the pink?”

But deep down – we all knew.

Fast forward twenty five glorious years and the assembled ranks of Chelsea Football Club, all 4,000 of us, were making a racket in the Putney End. Alan, Gary and myself had seats high up in the middle, sat alongside John Terry’s Barmy Army, with Big John bashing the wire mesh every few minutes to our left. Fulham – bless them – had given out several thousand cardboard concertina’d noise-makers. The Fulham fans vigorously used these, but the resultant “noise” was pitiful.

Sod that – we’re Chelsea and we’ll make our own noise.

The game was so frustrating. We had a lot of the ball in the first half, but fell to a poor bit of marking to go 1-0 down. The fans weren’t happy. Thought Joe Cole was poor, but Mikel was doing OK. He has been my player of the year – I think – so far. We had a few chances, but it wasn’t convincing at all. Gary was having a go at Joey – a bit unfair I think. I noticed that “Familiar Fan Name Unknown” was glaring at Gary in these moments.

We played a lot lot better in the second-half. Very encouraging – I couldn’t doubt the team’s spirit. A quick move, a blunder from the ‘keeper Schwarzer and Frank is there to knock it in. Get in, you beauty…I took a few shots of the resultant aftermath, fans’ arms flailing, Frank running to the corner flag. “Familiar Fan Name Unknown” was yelling at Gary “JOEY COLE, JOEY COLE, JOEY COLE!” with a look of aggression…Joe had certainly upped his performance in the second and was having a blinder. Bizarrely, Joe was then subbed and this was met with boos from us. I took a few more snaps, but then – with typical bad luck – put the camera away just before Frank lined up a free-kick. I was right behind the flight of the ball and Schwarzer really should have done better. Yet more wild celebrations. It reminded me of his free-kick at Fulham in 2004 – virtually the same place too. Surely we would score more. Drogba was leading the line well and the Chelsea fans were rewarding him with his song. I – notably – was clapping along, but not singing his name. I remember Moscow.

We had heard of Liverpool’s win – we needed these points.

Dempsey’s goal at the death knocked all of the stuffing out of me. Silence in our section. Disbelief.

But then one last, agonising, chance for Frank at the end, but a double block. A mighty groan.

A damned fine game of football – but not good enough.

“Happy New Year – see you on Saturday.”

I walked briskly back to the car, over the Thames, the floodlights lighting up the winter sky. The Fulham fans were bubbly, the Chelsea fans were downbeat.

At 3.30pm, we were singing “There’s only one team in Fulham” and at the final whistle, it was their turn.

Pah.

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