Tag Archives: The Bing

Tales From The Wild Side

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Chelsea vs. Stoke City : 25 April 2010.

Not so much a matter of cups being half-empty or half-full. Against Stoke City, our cup overflowed.

But – really – if only I had known that we would triumph so remarkably, I would have been able to enjoy the prolonged pre-match a little more.

I awoke early on Sunday morning and was sick with nerves. Outside, the weather was surprisingly damp and drizzly. My mood had taken a downward swing after United’s predictable win against Spurs and I knew that the Stoke game would be a tense affair. Steve Azar was still in town – what luck! – and I got him a seat next to myself as Glenn couldn’t make it due to work. We texted each other soon after 8am –

Chris – Up early, already Jack Kerouac. Nervous as hell. Joining us for breakfast?

Steve – I’ll be there. We need to defend those corners.

Chris – What, at breakfast?

I kept thinking that an early goal would settle us nicely. One at around 11am would be perfect. I picked up Parky at about 9am and we spent the first hour nervously chatting away about the Spurs game ( we both thought that it was bad policy for the Chelsea team to be watching the Manchester derby – it certainly affected us. This was foolish and a black mark against the manager ), the Stoke game, the Liverpool game, the Cup Final, the whole nine yards. Sartorially, we were like two peas in a pod.

Lacoste Watch

Parky – black
Chris – navy blue

I joined the M4 at Hungerford. Depeche Mode were on the CD and the chat quietened down. The music added to the drama and those drum beats banged away at me. There were the usual familiar sights on the approach into town. At around 11am, the rain worsened, but we joined Steve for a Full Monty breakfast in good time. It was to be Steve’s last “proper” breakfast for a while. Again, the talk was full of our predictions for the day ahead. Despite the problems with air travel, many Americans had flown over and it was going to be another hectic one. We zipped past three NYBs waiting for The Goose to open at midday as we headed down towards The Bridge. Thankfully, the rain had subsided.

For about an hour and a quarter, Parky, Steve and myself – to be joined by Beth, who was in the UK for a week after swapping her flights rather dramatically – stayed in the hotel foyer along with the legendary triumvirate of Ron Harris, Charlie Cooke and Peter Bonetti. It was a lovely time and I could see that Steve was enjoying the chat with Chopper and The Bonnie Prince. A few photos – of course! It was of course great to see Beth again and I was very pleased to receive my copy of the CIA DVD from the summer tour. Ironically, I had spent Saturday evening viewing my own personal camcorder film of California 2007.

We then spent two hours in the beer garden of The Goose. There was a cast of thousands, chatting away. A few familiar faces from the NYBs – the Caminski Family, Mike, Chopper, Carrie, Henry, plus many few more…the biggest surprise was right at the end, when Napoli Frank showed up. I first met Frank on the way to a Mets game in 2008 and he left a big impression on me…a real character. One of the NYBs joked that Frank is such a typical New Yorker that he is on the city flag. Anyway, a big old hug for Frank and plenty of laughter – we last saw each other in Baltimore. For five NYBs, this would be their first ever game at Stamford Bridge…for a couple, their first ever Chelsea game.

Meanwhile, in a corner, The Bing were chatting away.

Lacoste Watch –

Rob – brown

News came through that the rumours about the Old Firm playing a game at Fenway on July 21st appeared to be true and we spent a good twenty minutes shaking our heads at this crazy decision. Boston won’t know what will hit it. I was still nervous – of course! – about the game and I almost didn’t want to go to the game…like a school exam, I never wanted it to come. I walked down the North End Road with Parky, Wes and Steve, our paces quickening. Steve spotted Cathy and Dog.

Smiles for familiar friends.

Daryl and Simon were being cautious about our chances. I shared a few worries and my stomach churned once more. Into the stadium and blue skies overhead, with white fluffy clouds too. Real Chelsea weather – we always play better in the sun. I noted gaps in the away corner, maybe only 700 Stokies. We had noted a couple in The Goose…no worries.

Our team, without the suspended JT, was very attack-minded, but I wasn’t sure about Kalou in for Joe. Ballack was holding.

OK – game on. Let’s go.

We began very brightly and I immediately said to Steve that Ballack was covering lots more ground than usual. With him playing a more withdrawn role, he appeared to have more time and space and he seemed to be revelling in it. Our chances came thick and fast. On 11 minutes, a Lampard shot was parried by the Stoke ‘keeper but Ashley Cole miscued. Ashley began as if he hadn’t been away. Great to see him back, but we were sad that Yuri had been dropped. On 18 minutes, Herr Ballack shot high after a corner. We were peppering the Stoke goal. A great cross from Paolo was glanced goalwards by Drogba, but a great save. Drogba then blazed over from two similar wide positions. Surely a goal would come. This was great stuff.

On 20 minutes, we went ahead…what a touch by Drogba out on the right – that was just amazing – and an equally fine cross low into the danger area. Kalou stooped and we went wild. Steve had an up-close-and-personal performance of our goal celebrations –

Alan – “They’ll have to come at us now, duck.”

Chris – “Come on my little diamonds, duck.”

On 31 minutes, Drogs set up Frank with a sublime touch and the resultant shot was fumbled into the path of Kalou. He doesn’t miss from there! I turned around and noted that Anna ( who was over in California in 2007 ) was right behind me after getting a drink. I gave her a hug and a kiss – and so her bloke Kevin didn’t feel left out, I did the same to him.

Happy days.

We were purring. A wonderful sweeping move, from Malouda down in the left-back position all of the way through the midfield, with Paolo taking a defender wide with a run outside, the ball was lofted out to Kalou who was pulled down – penalty! Frank blasted it home and the New York Blues – right behind the Shed goal in the lower tier – went into orbit. I imagined Napoli Frank smiling from ear to ear. This was just blissful stuff and I felt all off that nervous worry dissipating in the Spring sun.

At half-time, Neil brought six of the 1970 team out onto the pitch to perform – for one afternoon only! – a special rendition of “Blue Is the Colour” and I heard Ron Harris’ voice dominating the singing. The crowd joined in and it was fantastic. The six of these Chelsea legends – Chopper, The Cat, Charlie, Huddy, Holly and The Sponge – then walked around the pitch, with applause cascading down. As they reached The Shed, a song began –

“The Shed looked up and they saw a great star.
Scoring goals past Pat Jennings from near and from far.
And Chelsea won – as we all knew they would.
And the star of that great team was Peter Osgood.”

A lovely moment.

In the second, there was a slight lull, but we then began again…Kalou shot over, Ashley had a great dribble into the box but couldn’t connect when it counted, a few free-kicks from distance. Stoke rarely threatened, but Tuncay looked busy.

“Come on – don’t give them a goal.”

Ivanovic was having another magnificent game. He really has been our most consistent performer this year. Alan likens his upright stance to Gary Locke. I always think his ‘eighties hair-style gives him the appearance of Joy Divisions’s Ian Curtis ( a man whose hairstyle, it was once said, was imposed upon him )…we love Ivan, Ivo, Branno – whatever we call him – to bits and he is a true Chelsea great. He would have fitted well into that 1970 team. I can just see him alongside Ron Harris.

Ouch.

On 65, Nico shot wide, but soon after, Kalou beat the offside trap to score his third and our fourth, though he needed two bites of the cherry to do so. Like Anelka last year against Sunderland, an “inside the six yard box” hat trick.

On 71, Joe Cole’s first run at the nervous Stoke defence resulted in the miss of the season for Malouda…oh boy, how did he manage to miss-cue from a yard? The substitute Sam Hutchinson then sent over a stupendous cross for Frank Lampard, whose exquisite flick over Bergovic was just amazing. It reminded me of Zola’s last ever goal for us, that other deft lob from the same angle, although further out. Five-nil. Superb. It was appropriate that a player called Hutchinson was involved on a day we remembered the 1970 cup win, some forty years on.

Late on – as we joked about 7 – two more goals…another beautiful through ball from Didi dissected the Stoke defence and Daniel Sturridge swept in his first-ever league goal for us. Then, a ball from Ballack to Joe – buzzing now – and a first-time cross for an exuberant Malouda to belt into the roof of the net.

Screams of delight from us all.

Oh my.

After the 7-2 against Sunderland and the 7-1 against Villa – now the biggest ever top flight Chelsea win. And, it goes without saying, my biggest ever Chelsea win in almost 800 games. Steve didn’t want to leave and so as the crowd slowly filtered out, we stayed for a few more minutes, breathing deeply, taking it all in. Way after the final whistle, on the PA, Bob Marley was wailing again…

“Don’t Worry – About A Thing.”

We spent an enjoyable time in The Goose, smiling, laughing and sharing the joy of the lucky souls who had flown over for this one game only. What a performance. I know nothing is certain in this crazy season, but this massive confidence boost is just perfect. A nervy 1-0, with the crowd on the team’s back, would have helped for the points total, but not on any other level.

It had been superb having Steve over and it was a bittersweet moment as we said our “goodbyes.”

Heading out of London on the M4, at Brentford, I spotted a massive ( 20 metres by 20 metres ) advertisement for Pepsi-Max featuring an image of Frank Lampard, streaked in paint, exhorting us to “Max Your Wild Side.” How appropriate. I wonder if the Americans, heading back to Heathrow, spotted it. I wonder if Beth will.

OK – if win it at Anfield on Sunday lunchtime and United lose at Sunderland later that afternoon, expect my car to swerve uncontrolably around 6pm on the M5 Southbound…around Stroud, I reckon.

These are the days of our lives.

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Tales From The First Premiership Game Of The Season

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Chelsea vs. Hull City : 15 August 2009.

Pre-Match One.

On Friday, six of us ( Rob, Glenn, Andy, Daryl, Alan and myself ) were having our usual weekly / daily email chat about all things Chelsea and touched on a variety of topics…concerns about the lack of width in Carlo’s preferred Diamond, the loans of Mancienne and Stoch, Chelsea subsidised away travel, the realisation that most of our new supporters are middle-class and quiet…and the feeling that Chelsea’s main push is growing the Global Brand ahead of getting the “next generation” of local youngsters to games. The six of us, with around 6,000 games between us, agreed on virtually every point made. Chalk it up – this rarely happens.

Pre-Match Two.

On the BBC evening news on Friday, there was a three minute news story about the Premiership’s appeal throughout the rest of the World. It emphasised that the EPL is the real global game. There was a section involving a stadium full of Korean Liverpool fans singing “You’ll Never Walk Alone” and then action from a few games from last season. Frank’s goal at Manchester City was featured ( and yes – there was Lovejoy in the crowd yet again…or ought that to be Chris De Burgh? ). The last section involved film of us in Baltimore – match action, close-ups of Frank and JT and – inevitably – a few seconds of the CIA section on the TV screen at the stadium…with Burger prominent, as always.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport2/hi/footbal … 199528.stm

This was a nice pre curser to our opener against Phil Brown’s Hull City on Saturday lunchtime.

We set off from Frome at 8.30am and it was a blustery morning, with slight drizzle. Lots of chat about the Community Shield and the new season ahead. We made our predictions. I think that the Premiership splits into two and I think that the top half will consist of Chelsea, Manchester United, Liverpool, Manchester City, Tottenham, Arsenal, Aston Villa, Everton, Fulham and West Ham. I had Sunderland down as my dark horses – or dark cats – to break into the top half.

Before we knew it, Karen was parked up at 10.30am. I shot off down to the ground as I had to get a replacement season ticket – I don’t know how I had managed it, but I had already mislaid my original one. The replacement cost me £25 – drat. However, box office manager Eddie Barnett ( who gets a bad press, well justified ) thanked me for my honesty and gave me back the £25. Nice one. Just outside the Megastore, I saw Neil Barnett approach. I caught his eye and said “here we go again”, not really knowing if he would stop and chat or give me the time of day. His reaction was nice – he gave me a hug and we chatted very briefly about the tour, before his attention was taken up by Lorrie Fair…I can understand this. I would rather talk to Lorrie Fair than me.

The next lovely surprise was inside the match programme – a small photo from the game in Pasadena with nice close-ups of Danny, Jeremy, Mark and Rick. The programme is in much the same style as last year’s edition…in fact, all of the ones since 2003 are very similar in design. There was a nice piece by Ric Glanville about the Chelsea vs. Arsenal game in 1935 ( the 83,905 game ) with comments from a 91 year old fan who was present. I love stuff like that. I bought a copy of “CFCUK” and hot-footed it up to The Goose for 11.15am. I passed lots of Chelsea supporters wearing the new away kit and every time I had a mental picture of Cary. Have you taken it off yet, mate? I also noted the new Hull City shirt and it is pure retro from 1982. A shame – I thought their kit from last season was one of the most distinctive in the league.

I only had time for three pints in The Goose beer garden and it was much too rushed for my liking. It was all very manic. I showed a few of the lads my photos from America. There was a battle royale of 1930’s tennis players taking place – Daryl and Rob sporting Fred Perry polos with Lord Parky and Jocka sporting those of Rene Lacoste.

It was deuce.

I bumped into Carrie from Manhattan, having last seen her in Baltimore. She had just flown in from Dublin and was talking with an Irish brogue which I found amusing. After the game, she was off to see U2 at Wembley. We had a nice chat and I reintroduced her to a few of The Bing. Glenn got “one last pint” in just as the pub began to drift off to the game. We were up against it. I bolted the beer down and left at 12.20pm.

We reached the entrance by the North-West corner at 12.35pm, but there was yet another new scanning device being used. Everyone tried blaming the delay on that, but we all knew that “one last pint” was to really blame. At 12.46pm, we heard an “ooooh” from inside the ground and this was unnerving.

“Don’t score yet – I’m still outside.” This, of course, was the miss from the boot of Didier Drogba.

Anyway, I got inside at 12.52pm and settled as quickly as I could…I had a game update from Alan, clocked the line-up ( no complaints ), texted a few people, took a few snaps and sat back to enjoy the league opener. I noted a couple of new flags draped over The Shed balcony ( Chelsea Teeside and Chelsea Bristol And Bath ). I really should have taken up “Vinci Per Noi” to welcome Carlo Ancelotti to SW6, but clean forgot. There seemed to be no structural or cosmetic changes to the stadium over the summer. It seemed as if I hadn’t been away to be honest. We created a few half-chances in the first period. I got back from a quick visit to the loos to see Stephen Hunt ( of all people ) knock in a goal for the visitors. The amber away section went mad and taunted Ancelotti with a chant about “getting sacked in the morning.” How we laughed.

Not long after, we were awarded a free-kick about 25 yards out and I went for a wide-angle option as Drogba shaped to take the kick. He struck the ball and, a moment after, I snapped. The ball dipped and ended up in the goal and I was pleased I had captured League Goal Number One on film. Shame I chose the wide-angle, though. I thought we had struggled a bit in the first-half to be honest, but was impressed with Drogba. I made the point to Alan that I wished that ( at least at the very start of the season ), Drogba and Anelka would play closer together…if anything, just to get to know each other…there were very little “diagonal” / off the ball / crossover moves between the two. We need that relationship to develop and I don’t think it can if they are continually twenty yards apart.

Definitely room for improvement in the second-half.

I looked around as the second-half began and realised that the place had been pretty quiet. These 12.45pm starts are always the same. A few more pints would have loosened us up more. “The Shed Singing Section” clearly weren’t. I noted swaths of replica shirts in the lower tiers of both side stands, plus all of The Shed. Conversely, not so many in the Matthew Harding Upper. In my own “Sleepy Hollow” section by Gate 9, I counted just two replica shirts in the thirty closest spectators. It has always been the same. However, perhaps inspired by me in Baltimore, I did note two other replica shirts ( originals, not copies ) from 1983. Nice work.

What with Hull’s amber shirts and Phil Brown’s permatan, I did wonder if Ray Wilkins might have thought he was in the middle of another Tango advert.

The game continued and Drogba looked the liveliest Chelsea player by a mile. We had lots of possession, but were playing into Hull’s hands. We had no width in the final third and our fears about The Diamond were being realised. I thought back on the two other periods when we have played this system…1976-1977 with Ray Lewington holding, Butch at the apex, but genuine width with Ian Britton and Garry Stanley…1993-1994 with Steady Eddie at the rear, Gavin Peacock in the hole and Craig Burley and Dennis Wise out wide…not so effective. At this early stage, it seems that the defence and attack is sorted…we just need to pick the correct four in the middle.

A real conundrum for our new man.

I was getting frustrated with our lack of incision into the Hull defence, but also with the lack-lustre support. We seemed to have around four or five headers which went over during the game. With six minutes of extra time signalled, I noted a few Chelsea fans leaving and I shook my head.

On 92 minutes, Drogba crossed into space and we could not believe it when the net bulged. Oh you beauty.

Mad celebration and I looked over to Alan. We broke the protocol and both said, in perfect unity, with beaming smiles –

“They’ll Have To Come At Us Now – Come On My Little Diamonds.” It was a perfect moment. We hooted with laughter.

I thought back to our game against Hull last November. On that occasion, Frank’s delightful chip was intentional. In this game against Hull, Drogba’s chip clearly wasn’t. At long last, the Chelsea support got it going and the noise echoed around the MHU. It was a long time coming, but it felt great.

Sunderland – minus me – next!

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Tales From The Dress-Rehearsal

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Chelsea vs. Everton : 22 April 2009.

My mates always commend me on my memory, but I think I will have trouble remembering too much from this game in a few weeks, let alone a few years.

Is this the game our league hopes were extinguished? I think so. Let’s get the black armbands out.

I had a call from Parky during the day to say that Les from Melksham wanted a lift, too, and would I oblige? The more the merrier, in my book. I don’t know Les too well, but I happened to be stood next to him in Turin a few weeks ago…he, like Parky, has been going to Chelsea for ages and has a season ticket about thirty seats away from me. Les is “Class A Old School”, with many misdemeanors from the good old bad old days to his name. I left work bang on 4pm, after manipulating some work into Thursday ( priorities! ), and I made great time up the M4. I amazed myself – I was parked up at 6pm and we were soon charging through The Goose to meet the rest of the boys in the sunny beer garden. I had forgotten that this game was to kick-off at 8pm, so we had a good ninety minutes of banter ( we didn’t change ends at half-time ) before we needed to leave at 7.30pm.

I squeezed in three pints, but it left me a bit weary at the end of it all.

Les shot off to make an unproductive raid on the box office for Gooner tickets, leaving Parky and myself to represent the West Country in the pre-match chat. It was another great time. There was a fairly substantial post-mortem on Wembley. Some things to ponder –

1. At the end of our little pub crawl, we were all buzzing – some more than others. It was a brilliant pre-match.
2. Claire really enjoyed herself – her first game since the Liverpool crunch game in 2003.
3. We are all happy to pay a cheaper price for the FA Cup Final – the view in the Lower Tier won’t be worth £90 plus.
4. Everton were by far the noisiest of the four semi-final teams over the weekend. They will out sing us at Wembley, no doubt.
5. I made the point that Everton are at an advantage because the fans only know three songs.
6. Rob made the point that we were singing three songs at the same time on Saturday.
7. The Lower Tier was being targeted by the CSG and CFCUK as the “dedicated singing section” on Saturday – we must do better!
8. We are getting Bada Bing “leisurewear” for Neil’s wedding ( reception ) in Guernsey in the summer – you have been warned.
9. Daryl has spent untold amounts of £££ on match tickets for himself and Ed the past four weeks.
10. Ed’s repayment is to be the dedicated beer collector once we are drinking. He knows his place!
11. We are annoyed that for the second year running, should we reach Rome, the other team will be a day ahead of us in booking all of the cheap flights and hotels.
12. Should we get a favourable result in Barca, a few of us might “gamble” on flights to Rome.
13. Simon confirmed that his son Milo, eleven, has been to about 35 games this season and will mysteriously fall ill should we get to Rome. I hope his teachers don’t read this.
14. Glenn was the wobbliest of all of us on Saturday – by a mile.
15. Russ – from Frome, now Croydon – had just got back from four weeks in Oz and is seriously considering Rome. Watch this space.
16. Lovejoy was absent, but was with his lady friend in La Reserve…five minutes of Lovejoy stories followed with much laughter from all.
17. Alan spoke of “the meet” for West Ham and hoped that those Americans coming ( you know who you are ) realise we will be behind enemy lines. No colours, no girly shrieks – especially from you, Bob!
18. Season tickets for next season were discussed, with the conclusion that a ) we can’t afford them and b ) we will get them regardless.
19. Provisional plans for gigs coming up over the next month were discussed – The Specials, Morrissey, Depeche Mode. It’s not just the football that keeps us as mates.
20. Parky – get the beers in!

It was such a pleasant Spring evening in that packed beer garden, full of friends and acquaintances built up over the years, that we could have stayed there all night. I am sure as the years progress, our departure time will get later still. Parky and myself trotted down the North End Road and, without trying, got rid of Parky’s spare ticket. In to the ground at 7.57pm – perfect timing.

The programme had a fantastic shot of Alex, just after the point of impact of his shot which crashed into the goal against Liverpool…veins pumping, muscles taught, legs fully extended. I took a shot, a split second after, in fact.

We half-expected there to be empty seats in the away section, but they filled their 1,400. Credit to them. Despite going to about ten games with Lord Parky this season, I was sat next to him for the first time – he was in Glenn’s seat. I chatted with Tom, thankfully having no ill effects from last week’s health scare.

Everton harried and chased all night long and tested Cech on a few occasions, especially in the first half. I remember a Ballack free-kick which went quite close for us. But, not a great performance at all. Meanwhile, United were 1-0 up at home to Pompey. Groan. Cech was our best player, I reckon…nobody else stood out really, although Malouda wasn’t too bad, following on from his best two games in our shirt. Alan asked me who would be my Player Of The Year. I said “Frank – by a mile.” Mikel began the season well, but has faded. What do others think?

It was pretty quiet for most of the night. I wondered how Beth was doing in The Shed – hopefully not falling out with a few “day trippers” like during her last visit.

What a run from JT – with the whole MH shouting “shoot!” – he let fly and forced a save from Tim Howard. Kalou got behind the defence a few times but this was one of those games, I am afraid. That dynamic shot from Drogba on about 93 minutes just about summed it all up. What a difference from eight days ago against Everton’s city neighbours.

Phil Neville got his usual customary, friendly welcome.

At the whistle, a few boos, which obviously annoyed me. We had arranged to meet Beth in the hotel, but ( despite a tricky manoeuvre by myself to elude the doormen ) the other two were denied access to the bar area as we weren’t staying in the hotel. Just a quick chat with Beth – I will see her again on Saturday. We dipped into a KFC and eventually left Chelsea at 11pm. The other two fell asleep and I found the driving terribly tiring. Home eventually at 1.15am. I had confessed to Parky on the last segment that, for the first time in years, I had a strange thought during the game along the lines of “almost £50 tonight – that’s a lot of money…I could do a lot with that!”

West Ham next – with Gary, Alan, Daryl, Ed, Andy, Ashley and Parky ( plus honoured guests from CIA Land ). Oh, and a mammoth report about Chelsea vs. Leeds United from 1984.

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Tales From A Romantic Evening With 2,300 Close Friends

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Watford vs. Chelsea : 14 February 2009.

On the Friday night I went to the Bath Cider Festival. It was a good laugh, but I limited my intake to just three pints because it’s pretty lethal – and, of course, I didn’t particularly care to be hung over for the main event of the weekend, our game at Vicarage Road in the F.A. Cup fifth round.

The late kick-off allowed me to run a few errands in Frome. I bought a steak and stilton pasty and a Chelsea bun for my drive east and set off at about 12.30pm.

It felt pretty strange, I must say, to be heading towards London at such a late time. It didn’t feel right. I much prefer early starts on a match day. There’s just something about setting off as day breaks. I had planned to meet up with the usual crowd at a pub on Watford High Street. Alan was already on his way and offered these cryptic clues to his whereabouts between 12.45pm and 1.30pm.

Squeeze.

Che Sera Sera

David Elleray

Squeeze Part Two

As I drove past “Bunch Of Rocks” I replied to him. The drive was uneventful and pretty boring to be honest. Despite the hundreds of games in my locker, this was only my second ever visit to the delights of Watford. I don’t know, Watford never really appealed back in my youth. I used to cherry-pick other away games to be honest…I was never keen to travel down from Stoke to go to Watford. I suppose the finances came into play by the time I moved back home after my college years – I’d rather spend money on a trip to West Ham or Arsenal.

I listened to OMD and Depeche Mode on the drive up. As I headed north on the M25, I glanced across towards London and just happened to glance the Wembley Arch, some eight miles away. We were on the Wembley Trail and I wondered if this was a good sign.

I reached Watford after 115 miles on the road. I parked up, paid the £3 fee and headed towards the town centre. Watford is a pretty nondescript place, just inside the M25, not really far enough away from London’s inter-war sprawl to be regarded as a town in its own right. It’s a bit like the North London version of Croydon. The High Street is a pedestrianised strip of about 600 yards and hosts all the big players in the Super Pub category of licensed premises which have evolved in the past ten years. In close proximity, there is a Wetherspoons, an Oneils, a Walkabout, a Chicago Rock and a Yates Wine Lodge. Build ‘em big, get the punters in.

At 3pm, I joined up with Daryl, Ed, Rob, Bradley, Gary and Alan. They were sat infront of a large screen showing a rugby game from Rome, which we dutifully ignored. They had just eaten, but Gary had just arrived from a Saturday morning at work. He was a picture of concentration as he solemnly examined the bar menu for what seemed like ages. He went for the scampi. I slowly sipped on two pints of Kronenburg. I had a text message from Burger, who was drinking a few hundred yards away. All eyes were on the other TV screen, behind my shoulder, as the scores were coming in. Good to see Leeds losing, a draw at Swansea. We were joined by Andy, Jonesey and Jocka, three lads from Nuneaton, near Coventry. We made a few comments to each other about getting Cov away in the next round – they were winning 2-1 at Ewood. That would be nice…I suppose we should always want a home draw, but my mates are always desperate for a new ground to visit on such occasions.

There was the usual banter. I had a nice chat with Rob and then Alan about the trip to Turin in March. However, the arrival of Andy signalled the need for us to address the main talking point of the week. On Monday, a few of us had spent around three hours discussing the “Scolari problem” by email. We were all of mixed opinions. However, at 4.22pm on Monday, whatever we thought didn’t matter. The club had acted and another phase in the history of our club lurched into action. So, we spoke at length about this – and other linked subjects close to our hearts. We weren’t euphoric at Scolari’s demise. We were respectful. We just want the best for the club at the end of the day. We talked about how the inherent nature of our club has changed over the past ten years. We discussed its identity and how our relationship to it has changed. In some ways, we longed for the joyous football of the Gullit era, where our successes were pure fun and there wasn’t the possible taint of other fans sniping away with “you’ve bought your success” comments. We agreed we wanted our Chelsea back – the phenomenal away support, the closeness with the players, the noise, the sense of belonging – but we did note that should “our Chelsea” ( borne in adversity ) take precedence over the Chelsea of a fan of 12 years, who has known nothing but success? We acknowledged this dilemma.

It was a great discussion, heartfelt and interesting. I love my Chelsea mates – the inner circle – and when one of us makes a comment and it is met with nods of approval, it’s a great feeling.

It is this shared experience that makes supporting my club so rewarding.

As kick-off approached, coats were put on, collars were pulled up close to faces, beers sunk. We sauntered out of The Walkabout with the swagger that football fans who cut their teeth in the ‘eighties can only really understand. Ten lads in white trainers, wearing jeans and jackets, tottering through enemy territory on match day. You can’t beat it.

My lads walked on as I stayed to meet up with Burger, who was with Mark and Mick. I joked that there were about 15 OB outside the Wetherspoons – had they heard about Burger’s problems in Seville? The last two hundred yards of the approach to Vicarage Street is a junk food addicts’ dream. The roads are absolutely festooned with chippies, kebab shops, Indians, Chinese restaurants and burger bars. Cathy and Dog walked past. A tout tried to sell us a ticket – we contacted Lee, who was still ticketless.

Got inside the ground at about 5.10pm – it had only been a 15 minute walk from the pub. I was halfway back, to the left of the goal as I saw it. I noted that the TV cameras had switched sides and were now positioned in the middle of the three derelict stands, now unused under the Safety Of Sports Act.

Our away support was good, plenty of noise, plenty of variety. The two versions of The Bouncy got us going. I was sat by myself, but Burger was ten seats to my left, Andy six seats to my right. It’s lovely how we still honour former players through song. At Watford, we honoured Peter Osgood with a lovely rendition of “Born Is the King” and also songs in honour of Dennis Wise and Wayne Bridge. Long may it continue.

Of course, Michael Mancienne made his first team debut. I noted his squad number…number 42 and it made me smart. As a baseball fan, number 42 represents Jackie Robinson ( and – OK – Mariano Rivera until he retires ), the first black player in baseball. Let us all hope Mancienne goes on to an as rich and as storied career as Robinson.

It was a strange back-four to be honest. Mancienne began well. He seems confident going forward. We worked out a few openings in the first period but only Anelka really troubled the Watford ‘keeper. I noted that we were still operating a 4-3-3 and that Anelka and Drogba were taking it in turns to play the wide right role. At least they were passing to each other on a few occasions. We had most of the half, of course, but that succession of Watford free-kicks late on scared me. Lampard was full of honest endeavour. Contrast this with Ballack’s performance.

I was stood ( we all were, that’s more like it! ) next to two strangers, but we had a good old chat throughout the game. Good points well made by all three of us. It reconfirmed my faith in our support. We’re not all gobby youths or moaning minnies.

Off for a toilet break at half time…my God, 400 of us had the same idea…ridiculous. I saw that Lee had made it in. A few smokers were lighting up in the cramped gents…cough, cough.

More Chelsea pressure in the second-half, but no end result. The Ballack chance made me comment to the bloke to my right “It’s not going to be one of those games is it?” I turned around in pain, but was dismayed to see supporters right behind me laughing at Ballack’s miss.

I stared at them – what, one wonders, were they laughing at? I was stern, teeth gritted, agonising over every missed chance. It made me wonder for a few seconds, but I resumed my support of the team.

“Matthew Harding’s Blue And White Army – We Hate Tottenham.”

Of course, our World caved in with that one Watford move, which had followed a sustained amount of Chelsea pressure.

On 69, up the other end and we were licked. Well, I guess it was Valentine’s Day.

The groans inside the Chelsea end were soon replaced by songs of support, but deep down, I feared the worse. The ball which had lead to the goal seemed to be offside and yet, here we were, facing F.A. Cup defeat by a Championship struggler for the second year in a row. I looked across at Burger…he had been at the Barnsley game too. I wondered what he was thinking.

We serenaded Stoch and he came on. He looked keen.

Thank heavens for Anelka’s fine flick which lead to our equaliser. Within a few seconds, he had headed a second and we were transformed into a bubbling mass of humanity. Brilliant. Of course, soon after, a great block by Cech kept us ahead and then, as the game appeared to have run its course, Anelka’s fine turn and shot gave us a third. Fantastic.

“That’s a great goal” I said to the chap next to me.

So – Anelka…the perfect hat-trick, one with his left, a header and one with his right. For the record, the best ever hat-trick I have seen at Chelsea was Hasselbaink’s perfect three against Tottenham in 2005. That was phenomenal.

Stoch impressed me. Our support for him was very gratifying. All that young lad has to do is look to go past defenders and he will have 40,000 people singing his name every week. He is a real threat, a real winger. Malouda doesn’t compare. I think Stoch and Mancienne are going to be great players for us.

“Che Sera Sera, Whatever Will Be Will Be, We’re Going To Wembley, Che Sera Sera.”

I waited for Burger and Mick to leave. We walked back to the town centre, our steps quick and joyous, lots of laughter.

“See you in April, mate.”

On walking back to the car, in the deserted High Street, I heard three lads singing “We hate Chelsea.” It surprised me…Watford’s support had been quiet all afternoon. As they passed me, I heard them talk to each other…in a Scouse accent. That explained it.

Great – if we are able to upset fans of Liverpool when we aren’t even playing them, job done!

I texted Andy, Daryl and Alan – “Cov away next?”

I pulled out of Watford at 7.45pm. I stopped at Fleet Services for a well-earned KFC meal and was home by 10.10pm. The highlights on ITV began at 10.15pm and we were the first game on.

Perfect.

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