Tag Archives: Pat Nevin

Tales From The Longest Day

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Chelsea vs. Burnley : 29 August 2009.

It feels great to be back at the top of the league once again – with a few laughs along the way, too.

This turned out to be a long day spent at HQ. I collected Parky at 8am and met up with a few others in the café at 10am. Bob from San Francisco had been in town since Thursday and had gone to the “Star On A Stool” event with Petr Cech, Daniel Sturridge and Paolo Ferreira that night. After a bacon sandwich apiece, we joined up with the boys in The Goose beer garden. This was another rushed pre-match and I only had time for a few pints.

The talk in the beer garden was off European trips in the autumn. Six of us have booked flights and two nights’ accommodation in Madrid for only £130. That’s a great price. I visited Madrid – for just one day – in 1987 and so can’t wait to back and see it again. A few of the lads are doing all three group stage games. We were like kids at Christmas time on the Thursday and I received around thirty emails during the day, talking about possible trips and it was so funny. The buzz grew with each new email. This was even before the draw took place! A few of us said that the day of the CL Group Phase draw is one of the most exciting days of the season.

Rob even said he gets more excited about the draw than some games these days and I, for one, knew exactly what he meant.

Porto and Atletico were easy places to book, but Cyprus was proving to be more difficult. Parky chimed in with the comment that one of his mates works at RAF Lyneham and he wondered if he could get the RAF to take a few paying guests over to Cyprus in a Hurricane troop carrier.

Parky was serious. I had visions of Rob, Gary and Alan getting parachuted in!

Lacoste Watch

Rob – brown
Bob – aqua
Parky – royal blue
Jokka – light blue

Unlike Hull City, we left in good time. I needed to call in at “the stall” to pick up a Kerry Dixon-signed copy of Mark Worrall’s new book “Chelsea Here Chelsea There.” I got to know Mark Worrall over the last year because I had learned that a mutual friend had been gravely ill – thankfully fully recovered. One thing led to another and I heard that he was bringing out a book to mark the silver anniversary of our iconic game at Highbury in 1984. He asked me to contribute and so I penned a three-thousand word piece, along with around fifteen other fans. Bob bought a copy – his was signed by Kerry Dixon, too. We made our way into the ground, my head full of Europe, the book and God knows what else.

One sight made me jolt. As I queued up for a couple of programmes, I saw a young lad in a claret and blue shirt and it was only when I saw “BFC” sewn into the back, I remembered that we were playing Burnley. I had simply not thought about the game nor our opponents in the pub. I was simply, as the song goes, there for the Chelsea. It made me laugh.

I was inside the stadium with plenty of time to spare, unlike for the home-opener. This would be a special day for me. This would be my 500th game at Stamford Bridge, going all of the way back to 1974. Glenn asked me what I could remember about my first game and I was full of memories but mentioned that we had Topic chocolate bars at half-time and that “I would never have imagined I would have reached five hundred.”

As the last few minutes ticked away, Alan and myself noticed some “European style” streamers being held from the MHU balcony wall. There were three together at either end and they formed the framework for the Chelsea – Pride Of London flag as it was passed along. I think the display needs more work ( more streamers for a start ) but at least the effort wasn’t lost on me. Further updates to follow as the season progresses.

The game began and it was a thoroughly entertaining first-half. Nikolas Anelka spurned an easy chance as he took one touch too many. Then, Frank uncharacteristically gave the ball away and the industrious Paterson shot wide after a great square pass. Had he struck the target, I am sure Cech would have been beaten. At the other end, we forced “The Beast” Jensen into making a range of excellent saves. I was surprised that Burnley only brought around 1,000 fans, especially since they brought 6,000 last season in the League Cup. However, Burnley is a really small town of only around 60,000 and so I suppose 1,000 isn’t too bad. The £50 tickets were another valid reason, as Alan pointed out.

This was a wide open game, though Chelsea were dominating the play – and chances. Our midfield was passing the ball around with glee and I remember thinking that at last we have round pegs in round holes in that all-important diamond. Deco was full of guile and touch, probing away. Essien gave so much more than Mikel in the withdrawn role, driving on in the way that only he can do. I noted that Frank Lampard and Herr Ballack kept changing flank and were very dominant. Our first goal came when Ballack pressurised a Burnley player into losing possession, Essien picked up the loose ball and set Drogba away with a perfect pass. Drogba cut the ball back for his strike partner Anelka to prod the ball home.

Yep – Drogba to Anelka again. More of the same please.

Half-time came and I showed a few close friends the new book. In addition to the 3,000 words in the book, there are also two photos…one of me at Chelsea in 1984 and one with my favourite ever player Pat Nevin in Moscow last year. There were a few shrieks of laughter at the 1984 one. Well, as if my some magical quirk of fate, who should be on the pitch with Neil at half-time but none other than Pat Nevin. Glenn, who travelled up with me to all those 1983-84 games, recognised the significance of Pat being on the pitch at my 500th game and I smiled in acknowledgement.

It was a perfect moment.

I read the programme during the rest of the break and was pleased to see an article on another of my favourite players from childhood – another number seven, Ian Britton. He played for us from 1972 to 1982, but also played for Burnley for three years. He even scored one of the most important goals in Burnley’s history in 1987, when his goal made it 2-0 in a game that Burnley had to win to avoid relegation from the Football League. He remains one hero I am yet to meet. I wonder if Beth can pull a few tricks at the CPO this November!

We continued to purr in the second-half and were rewarded with two lovely goals from Ballack and Ashley. During the build up to the third goal, Frank burst from midfield in a way that he simply would not be able to do had he been at the top of the diamond.

This was great stuff indeed and we could have scored six, maybe more.

We had twenty-five shots and Burnley had three. Men against boys. If I had to chose our best player, I would say that nobody played better than Deco.

After the game, I met up with San Francisco Bob ( unagi1 ) and we stopped off at The Finborough for a couple of pints of Becks Vier. He had watched a game from the MHL for the first time. We had a lovely chat about Chelsea and our respective home towns. The immediate post-game crowd drifted away until there were just the two of us, chattering away about Baltimore, Madrid and various other football cities. It’s a great life. We dropped in for a pizza and some Nastro Azzurro at Salvo’s, but the owner was in Italy. We watched, half-heartedly, the United vs. Arsenal game.

We then back-tracked and caught a cab down to The Imperial on the Kings’ Road, the former watering hole of Matthew Harding and The King. Rob had been there since 2.30pm and it was now 7.30pm. The drinking continued and we chatted with a few of the stragglers who were showing no signs of wanting to go home.

Sambucas were ordered and the night continued. I bumped into Mark’s mate Olly, who I had briefly met in Texas. Small world. He told me he had started the Chelsea Hairhunters group on Facebook and it made me chuckle. Two members of The Youth were there too. We left The Imperial at about 11pm and, via a quick chat with Digger at The Morrison, Rob, Bob and myself ended-up back at The Goose, the full circle completed.

We stayed on past midnight – more lagers, more sambucas, some amoretto for Rob.

“Amoretto – Chelsea Amoretto” we sung continuously. We were invited to stay behind for a “lock-in” and Reg started pouring out some free drinks. He poured Rob and me a lethal cocktail and I knew the end was in sight. We departed at about 2am and I crashed – literally – in Bob’s hotel room, while Rob headed down to the Broadway for a night bus.

It had been a top day in London Town.

Postscript – 

I was awoken by a text message from Rob at 8am. He was now back home, but had woken up at Hammersmith Hospital at around 3am. He had suffered a cut on the head and wanted to know what on earth had happened. I phoned him and we tried to piece it all together. I guess he had fallen – after all, he had been drinking for 16 hours!

The final shame, though, was this…in an attempt to check him out, the nurses had cut away his Lacoste polo and he had to travel home on the night bus wearing a hospital charity shirt.

Shade unknown.

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Tales From The Fortress

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Chelsea vs. Arsenal : 30 November 2008.

Fortess Stamford Bridge – yeah, big joke, eh?

I’ll try to keep things nice and concise for this report, but will be referring back to 1983 at least once, and to Friday a few times too.

Fasten your seat belts – it’s gonna be a rough ride.

A late start from Frome, where we had sleet and snow as we departed at 10am. I had watched the highlights of Saturday’s games on “Match Of The Day” and rarely had the weather at all of the games been so bad. The poor souls at Sunderland looked frozen. As we teared past Stonehenge, I did wonder what weather the Gods would throw at us again. I’m fed up with all of this football in the rain. Sad to report that Dave and PD aren’t getting much work still – this, along with the utterly depressing performance from the boys on Wednesday, gave the trip up to London a bleak feel. Even six hours before kick-off, we were all fearing the worst.

Anyway, into the café on the Lillee Road and a gorgeous fry-up again. Now then, the first reference to Friday. For the first time in my life, I attended an official Chelsea Football Club function – the 2008 CPO Luncheon at the Hilton, Park Lane…Beth always goes and she coerced me into going this year. We met up at Stamford Bridge at 9.15am and – until we departed our separate ways at 11pm – had a fantastic time. I won’t mention every minute detail, but my mate Glenn, from Frome, was a big Marcel Desailly fan ( he favours Milan, too – the poor misguided soul ) and so I presented Glenn with a signed “Desailly 6” photograph I had for him. He was well chuffed.

Into “The Goose” at 12.45pm and a few pints of lager. Some of you will remember that we bumped into Pat Nevin, amongst others, in Moscow…well, I knew that Wee Pat would be at the CPO Lunch and so I got him to personally sign two 8 by 10 photos of Pat with both Alan and Daryl. This was a surprise for my two mates, so they were pleased too. I must have around ten to fifteen close Chelsea mates, but I would describe Alan, Daryl and myself as the Inner Circle…between the three of us, all the important decisions are made!

To be fair, the mood in the boozer was quite subdued. The Bordeaux game was the topic of conversation. I guess any team is only as good as their last performance and ours was flat and lifeless. So – lots to groan and moan about. Daryl voiced the opinion that getting Eidur back from Barca wouldn’t be a bad move come January…a fine idea. Rob arrived and was full of chat about France…he had met up with Alan and Gary out there. After a shedful of beers one night, they found themselves drinking the almond liquor amoretti.

After six of these, Rob was leading the singing of “Chelsea Amoretti.”

The pub got busier and busier. I was wary I had to meet Beth at some stage…I owed her some money, £20 of which was for a bet I had lost with her. I had bet her that she would show at least one former Chelsea player at the lunch on Friday her new silver CFC belly button ring. The plan didn’t work and, despite a plan I had hatched with Clive Walker, Beth won her bet. Beth was doing a mini pub crawl by the sounds of it and I eventually met up with her in La Reserve, where she was enjoying a quiet drink with Mark Coden ( if that is possible…)

Into the ground nice and early for once, thus avoiding problems at the turnstiles.

Arsenal had the usual 3,000, but only two flags…a poor show. One of them was quite simple and effective – The Arsenal – but I knew this would wind Alan up as he hates the way Arsenal are sometimes referred to in this manner, like as if they are The Bank Of England or The Royal Family or something. For virtually all of their history Arsenal Football Club have hosted some of the most pragmatic and boring football teams to come out of these Isles…only since Wenger took over, in 1996, has the more expansive style of football been evident. Tell that to the JCL Gooners in America…they were called Lucky Arsenal in the thirties because they only did “enough” to win, nothing more…1-0 To The Arsenal is about right. The football Arsenal played in my childhood and youth was dire, with Liam Brady a rare entertainer.

A nice atmosphere to start – this is more like it…the extra hour in the various bars and pubs that surround Stamford Bridge on match days seemed to have a nice effect. In between Chelsea attacks, I spoke to Alan about some of the events on Friday…the highlights were nice chats with Paul Canoville, Bobby Tambling, Ken Shellito, Ken Monkou, Colin Pates and Tommy Hughes. I think I worked out I managed to say a few words to 19 of the 63 former players present. I batted .332 – pleased with that!

I thought we were fine in the first half and played the nicer stuff. After a barrage of abuse at the start, Gallas got away quite lightly really. However, it was so funny when there seemed to be a bizarre reaction when Bosingwa’s fine cross was put into his own net by Djourou – it seemed that the whole ground thought that Gallas had scored. There were almost boos when we heard that #20 and not #10 had scored! Hilarious. Even more hilarious was Alan’s off the cuff comment…”when it comes to crosses, I’m like a midget nymphomaniac…I like them low and hard.”

To me, the formation resembled 4-4-2, rather than 4-4-3, with Deco very withdrawn and Kalou quite central. What did anyone else think? Although we were playing some reasonable football, I was concerned that the Chelsea players weren’t getting very close to the Arsenal midfielders. Thought Fabregas was being given too much respect. Why not man mark him? He was always going to be their main threat.

At half-time, I noted in the programme that Chelsea have recently tied up a deal with Los Angeles Futbol Club in which training programmes will be set up with Chelsea, plus coach-exchanges. They will be known as LAFC Chelsea. They play in Simi Valley. Anybody heard of this club before?

Of course, we all know what happened after the break. We did let Arsenal have a bit more of the ball, but at 1-0 I still didn’t see a real threat from them. The first goal did look a bit close to being offside from my position – admittedly many yards away – and this was borne out on TV. The calls went against us, no doubt. But we threw the game away in three crazy minutes. I was standing the entire time – evidence I wasn’t happy.

Too many players had poor games – Deco especially, but nobody came out with too much credit. However, fair’s fair – again thought Ivanovic played well. A solid performance from the man with the 1980 haircut. We had a good viewpoint of Terry’s awful two-footed challenge which should have resulted in a red. He’s having a patchy spell right now, no doubts.

At this point, I go back to Friday night – and also 1983-84 again. I had a lovely few words with Colin Pates, the captain of that fabled team and I made the point to him that in those days the fans weren’t experts on formations or playing systems – we just had ten pints in the pub beforehand and sung our hearts out. Colin laughed and agreed that there really wasn’t too many tactics in those days. A far more simple era really, though we didn’t realise it at the time. Players played – supporters supported. Easy.

Now then – excuse me while I get on my soap-box here. I have often lamented – at length – the decreasing levels of our home support of late. At times, I get so frustrated with the lack of effort, I honestly feel like only going to away games. With Chelsea 2-1 down to Arsenal ( Arsenal FFS! ), not only did our team not react in the right way, the home support simply did nothing. It’s like my car at the moment – the turbo is broken – and we just couldn’t get that extra boost…I was putting my foot to the floor, but not getting a response. My mate Daryl has commented to me today that we all thought that the Carling Cup Final in February was a low point, but yesterday was just as bad.

It grieves me like you can not imagine.

I noted the three lads – in their forties, been going for years, been sat behind them since 1997, but they rarely sing – just sat, arms crossed, not even talking, let alone singing and clapping. I leaned forward and said –

“Is there any chance you lads can start putting your hands together and supporting this team of ours?”

Albert turned around, annoyed with me, claiming he does support the club.

“Yeah, whatever mate, whatever.”

Of course, I felt bad about it on the drive home, but please tell me – who is right?

Managers manage. Players play. Supporters support.

We support – we don’t spectate.

Of course, things got very frustrating and Deco became the poster boy for the hate and derision raining down from the stands around me. I have a rule here – and I try my hardest to keep to it. When a player miss-hits a pass, or skies a shot, I try my damned hardest to say nothing, to stay silent. Not the fans around me – in the last horrible twenty minutes, with the noise getting louder and louder with every poor pass, I had to wonder what was going through the collective minds of those around me. If they truly love the club, why the hate towards certain players. One guy behind me was truly venomous. It made me feel sick.

On one occasion, JT lofted a lovely pass into the pass of Ash down below me and not one clap…not one. These people make more noise when players play badly than when we play well.

Can someone please explain that to me? I just think us Chelsea fans have been spoilt rotten and as soon as a defeat is on the cards, suddenly implode. We can’t cope. We blame referees. We blame the coach. We pick on players. We behave like petulant kids.

Not my Chelsea.

Back in 1983-84, my fourth game of the season was a horrible 1-0 defeat a home to Manchester City…twenty five years ago on Wednesday.

In 1983-84, I was gutted we lost. In 2008-2009 I am gutted we have lost our support.

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Tales From 1983 And 2008

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Chelsea vs. Burnley : 12 November 2008.

I have to admit that I wasn’t particularly overly-excited about this one.

This would be my seventeenth game so far this season and my lack of enthusiasm did trouble me. But, I guess, once I see as many games as I do, I suppose it is natural for there to be occasions when I get under-whelmed. The Carling Cup is certainly priority number four for us all this season. Should we progress, I was already writing off the chances of me going to an away game.

Time and money.

Parky from Trowbridge had made his way to Chippenham and we departed at 4pm. Constant chat on the way up – he loves to rabbit. Talk was of Chelsea, work and a fair bit of time remembering Remembrance Day. Parky had been in the army and had actually visited The Cenotaph in London on Tuesday.

We hit a bit of traffic around Hammersmith and reached The Goose at 6.30pm. It was pretty quiet – only five chaps from our lot were there…Alan, Daryl, Ed, Rob and Gary. Just time for two pints and a few memories of Rome shared with the boys – and a few preliminary plans made for Saturday…West Brom away, ten of us meeting up for our biggest away gathering of the season. Looking forward to that one.

I had already exchanged emails with Daryl during the day about the events of Saturday 12th. November 1983. Daryl is the other great “historian” amongst our little group and we have been chatting all season about 1983-1984. Daryl still contends that this is his favourite season ever. So let’s re-cap on 1983.

I was unemployed throughout the season…but had been to the home games against Derby in August and Cardiff in October. The biggest game of the season was to be against Arthur Cox’s Newcastle United. They were the favourites for promotion and had Keegan, McDermott and Waddle. A good team. I had travelled up alone for the first two games, but had arranged to travel up by train with Glenn, from Frome, for the first time for the Geordies’ game. We would have reached Chelsea at about 10.30am and I distinctly remember having a cuppa in the old “Stamford Bridge Restaurant” with him. Two Geordies were sitting with us.

“Keegan will score a hat-trick today, like.”

I remember we got inside the ground when the gates opened at 1.30pm. Even to this day, I can remember peering out on a misty Stamford Bridge, Eurythmics playing on the pre-match show, in amazement how many people were “in early.” By 2pm, The Shed was getting very full. Back in those days, we were used to average gates of around 12,000 in the Second Division. In April 1982, we infamously only drew 6,009 for a league game. In the First Division, in 1983-84, even champions-to-be Liverpool only drew 32,000. Football was at a bit of a low ebb. The recession was biting. After narrowly avoiding relegation to Div Three in May, however, Chelsea were rejuvenated in the first few months of 1983-84 and the Chelsea support was rallying around the team. We drew 30,000 for the Newcastle game in November 1983…a monster gate, when the average Div Two gate was around 11,000. We watched from The Whitewall.

Chelsea slaughtered Newcastle 4-0 and I fondly look back on that game as one of my favourite games ever. We absolutely dominated. Mention this game to anyone who was there, though, and they will say two words.

“Nevin’s run.”

Just before half-time, with us leading 1-0 , ( and my memory is still strong ) Pat Nevin won a loose ball from a Newcastle attack in the Shed penalty box on the West Stand side. I read a report from “When Saturday Comes” founder Mike Ticher that Pat nut-megged Keegan ( but I can’t confirm this ) and then Pat set off on a mesmerizing dance down the entire length of the pitch, around five yards inside the West Stand touchline. This wasn’t a full-on sprint. Pat wasn’t that fast. At five foot six inches he was the same height as me. Pat’s skill was a feint here, a feint there, a dribble, a turn, a swivel, beating defender after defender through a body-swerve, a turn…it was pure art, a man at his peek…he must’ve left five or six defenders in his wake and I guess the whole run lasted around 20 seconds…he may well have beaten the same man twice…each time he waltzed past a defender, the noise increased, we were bewitched, totally at his mercy…amazingly he reached the far goal-line…a dribble of around 100 yards. He beat one last man, looked up and lofted a ball goalward. Pat’s crosses always seemed to have a lot of air on them, he hardly ever whipped balls in…his artistry was in the pinpoint cross rather a thunderbolt…a rapier, not a machine gun. The ball was arched into the path of an in-rushing Kerry Dixon. We gasped…we waited…my memory is that it just eluded Kerry’s head and drifted off for a goal-kick, but Gary reckoned Kerry headed it over. Whatever – it didn’t matter. On that misty afternoon in West London, we had witnessed pure genius. I loved Pat Nevin with all my heart – my favourite player of all time – and most Chelsea fans of my generation felt the same. When I met him in Moscow in May, you can not comprehend my happiness.

So, on the walk to the ground – 25 years on – Pat Nevin was remembered with affection.

Into the stadium. Another full house. Burnley had 6,000 noisy fans in The Shed.

“Stand up if you hate Blackburn.”

We had a poor start, then got into the game. This really was a B Team for us. We had a lovely move down the right, but Kalou took an extra touch. Often he will do that. Carlo fluffed a catch and was lucky to escape unpunished. Burnley were neat. Belletti went off injured and Frank came on. I noted that every time Frank gets rested, he always seems to have to come on early to cover an injured player. But he certainly lit up our play. A lovely finish from Drogba ( our reserve striker? ) gave us a 1-0 lead. Ivanovic then hit the bar after a sweet fee-kick from Malouda.

I noted six red-coated Chelsea Pensioners in the East Middle. Chelsea have always given the Royal Hospital free tickets for the Pensioners as far back as I can remember. I think that’s fantastic. A lovely little piece of Chelsea History. I have noted, though, that whereas in 1983, their tickets were right on the half-way line, every year they seem to get shunted further towards the wings. A shame.

I noted every Burnley pass was enthusiastically cheered by the away fans. How odd that Blackburn and Burnley share the same song…”The Wild Rover” / “No Nay Never.” But with vastly differing words. Blackburn in reverence, Burnley with animosity.

At half-time, I popped over to see Jamie – she had a fantastic seat in the front row of the MHU, right behind the goal. The news came through that Spurs were 3-0 up.

Mikel came on for a poor Deco. Thought Mikel was great, actually.

Burnley is a small town in Lancashire ( population 77,000 ) and like Rovers, does well to sustain a relatively big club. In the ‘sixties they were a great club with a good team. Believe it or not, this was my first sighting of their famous claret and blue. I wondered that if the Burnley flags might possibly reflect the very parochial nature of their support.

Not so much “Manchester Clarets” and “Burnley – London Branch” as “19 High Street Clarets” and “Burnley – Top End Of Our Street.”

For the first time since the shame of Moscow, I clapped the substituted Drogba. However, soon after, Burnley scored through Akinbyi ( a well-travelled gun for hire if ever there was ) and things looked ominous. The away support erupted. Our support – typically – was quite subdued all night. Lots of kids around us, but a lot of people sat on their hands, not involved.

Extra-time and Di Santo had a knock…down to ten men. Another ominous sign. We went to 4-3-2, but unfortunately this left the night’s two most ineffectual players ( Malou and Kalouda!! ) upfront. Not good. With six minutes to go, Alex ( one of the few plusses ) skied it over from right in front of the goal – and Jamie. Oh hell. Then a Burnley chap was sent off for a second yellow.

Ten versus ten, but it didn’t help us. The inevitable penalty loss was oh-so predictable…our last success was back in 1998 apparently…six failures since. Are we England in disguise?

Let’s move on. A poor performance, but we could and should have easily won. Fortress Stamford Bridge is beginning to sound like a sick joke.

Due to the prolonged game, didn’t get home until 1.30am.

Good job we are at The Hawthorns on Saturday. Mow That Meadow.

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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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