Tales From Deep In The Heart Of Texas

Chelsea vs. Club America : 26 July 2009.

On Saturday morning, I needed to catch an American Airlines flight to Dallas / Fort Worth. I set the alarm for 7.30am but was awake at 6am and couldn’t get back to sleep. So – just two hours’ sleep. Ho hum. I vaguely remember saying “see you in Dallas” to Julie, but Burgs and Farmer John were still in slumberland. I was able to get a lift with Roma down to the Baltimore airport – although this was beset with difficulties when Roma misplaced her car from the previous night in the multi-story car park…eventually we found it amidst much laughter.

Arriving late for the game, misplacing the car – just classic Roma! Love her to bits.

It had been wonderful to see her again – albeit for just twelve hours. When I first met her in Florida in 1989, I gave her my little Chelsea pin badge as a memento. Who would have thought that almost twenty years later we would be watching Chelsea in Baltimore?

Crazy. I’m sure she mulls over this constantly.

Lo and behold, as soon as I said my goodbyes to Roma, I soon realised that I would not be alone on the flight. Detroit Bob, Detroit Mary, Andy Wray, Tim from Philly and Layla from NYC were also on the three hour flight to Texas. Thankfully, I was able to get a little sleep on the plane and we touched down at the massive DFW airport at around 1pm. While we waited for our lift – Beth’s friend Nanette – Andy and me chatted to a guy from London’s “Evening Standard” and a chap from “Sky Sports”, both over in the US to cover our four games.

Nanette soon arrived and I braced myself for the intense Texas heat. Thank heavens for air-conditioned cars. Before we knew it, we were at the Storm Cellar in Euless and I soon pinned VPN up on the wall. I met a few old friends – Andy B., Kevin, Phil and Ira from Iowa and Kyle – and sunk a couple of beers. Andy didn’t waste any time in searching me out for yet another discussion about video-technology! Kyle presented me with two New York Yankee rookie cards – my all time favourite Don Mattingly and also Bernie Williams – and I was dead chuffed. At around 4pm, a gang of us drove about five miles so we could experience a Texas BBQ. It was one of the highlights of the trip and something that I am not used to. As soon as Andy Wray opened up the door, the aroma of the wood smoke hit me between the eyes, ears and nostrils and I filled my boots with a plateful of Texan hospitality. A “Lone Star” beer hit the spot, too.

Back to the Storm Cellar and a few others had arrived – the main stays from Baltimore…you know who you are.

Lacoste Watch

Tommy Langley – salmon pink

I had a quick chat with Kevin and Ian, fellow UK based fans. Next on the agenda was a trip to the new Cowboys’ stadium for the practice and Beth had arranged me to get a lift with her friend John, an ex-pat who has been living in Texas for twenty years or so. The stadium looked massive from a mile or so out and dominated the skyline. From the classical new Yankee Stadium to the retro-look of Camden Yards to the gargantuan shell at Dallas, my hunger for new stadiums was being satiated. I had already visited the Cowboys’ website a few times, so I knew what to expect. As we marched across the car park, the late afternoon sun glinted against the armadillo-like stadium and I was very impressed.

I was a bit annoyed that I was unable to take my telephoto lens into the stadium.

“But it’s not even a game” I moaned.

I made plans with Andy for him to smuggle it in on the Sunday. We would not be defeated.

To be quite honest, I think I hit “the wall” at the practice. My throat was very sore from all of the singing in Baltimore and so I was very grateful for Danny’s lozenges…ah yes, I had met Danny ( Blue Celery ) at the pub and it was great to meet a new Chelsea face. I was pretty tired, too. However, the two hours or so we spent at the new Cowboys’ stadium was notable for a few things.

Firstly, of course, the stadium…it’s just huge and almost over-whelming. The tiers – we counted ten – go on and on, upwards and beyond, almost to the heavens. I was particularly taken with the two end sections, plate glass, but a couple of tiers of seats too, as if floating in mid air.

And then the high-definition screen, high above the pitch. The one in centre field at new Yankee Stadium was impressive, but the Dallas was even more so…words don’t do it justice. And yet, there is a part of me that thinks that it is almost obscene – that such vast amounts of money should be spent on it.

Not to worry, as soon as Frank and JT came onto the pitch – the first two Chelsea players to appear – they both took pot shots at the scoreboard and we screamed with laughter. JT hit the lower reaches on two occasions and we cheered him. This was followed by an announcement on the PA to stop! Hilarious.

I went up to sit with the Naughty Boys in the second tier, just in time for Cathy to do a hearty rendition of the “Zigger Zagger.” A few Mexicans invaded our patch and this gave Mark ( I think ) the inspiration to utter the infamous and instant classic –

“You started swine flu, you started swine flu.”

To be fair, the Club America fans were in good spirits and were full of smiles. I had a beer, but still felt tired. I hardly watched the lads go through their paces as I was busy keeping an eye on the Chelsea fans…they were clearly pleased to be seeing the boys in the flesh. However, I did note that JT and Billy McCulloch were laughing and jostling with each other and I remember thinking –

“That doesn’t look like the behaviour of a player who is leaving for Manchester City next week.”

I guess the practice finished at about 8.30pm or so and we returned to the Storm Cellar.

Tel went through his quiz, but I had decided not to enter – I dropped a few hints for a few teams…the picture round especially.

I had a few more drinks during the evening ( and managed to avoid Gumby – wink…where were you all day, mate? ) but the highlight for me was being able to go upstairs to the mezzanine area and sit down with Wobley, his son Nathan, and Danny for a good old discussion about Chelsea ; fandom, club policy, Chelsea In America, rivalries, new fans, songs…the whole shooting match. I wish more people could have joined us really. I mentioned to the lads of my fears of what football has become, how it has changed – not always for the better – and how I see it all going. We spoke at length and with great passion and I found it to be a very interesting end to the evening.

Maybe on the next tour, for us serious folk who like to chat forever about Chelsea, we could arrange some real life chat rooms. Wink.

I really enjoyed Danny’s insights into baseball too.

At around 1am or so, Andy was kind enough to drive us back to Monique’s house to the north of Fort Worth. With the music blaring, the iconic green road signs flying past and the road-side restaurant signs clamouring for attention, I was lost in America once again and it was heady stuff. There is something about the American road which never fails to leave me transfixed and begging for more.

At last, I was able to get a serious night’s sleep on the Saturday night. After feeling tired during Saturday afternoon, I felt refreshed and ready for the match. My phone buzzed at around 9am on the Sunday morning with the wonderful news that JT had issued a statement to say he was staying. I checked with Andy and he was twittering on about the same thing.

The highlight of the trip.

“JT – CAPTAIN, LEADER, LEGEND.”

Via a quick call at Beth’s ( I must admit that it felt odd seeing a friend’s house on DVD before I saw it in the flesh…), we made our way to the Storm Cellar. At around lunchtime, we approached just as New Order’s “True Faith” came on the radio. A memory of home. From the M6 and an away game up North to a Chelsea away game in the heart of Texas.

“I feel so extraordinary.
Something’s got a hold on me.
I get this feeling I’m in motion.
A sudden sense of liberty.”

Once inside, I noted that a lot more fans were in attendance. I met Seb Blau for the first time and renewed friendships with a few others. I briefly spoke to JR. The free beer flowed, I got stuck into the Mexican food and even had time to play football on the indoor court for twenty minutes or so. Charles ( Cicero ) kept lining up some crosses for Andy and me to gallantly miss.

Great stuff.

I listened to Neil, Tommy and Jock talking about various things and one thing which Neil said really hit home.

“Following Chelsea is great – and, you know, more than anything – it keeps you young.”

I smiled in agreement at this very true statement. I looked around and there we all were – all of us in our ‘forties, all behaving like teenagers. It had been the same in Baltimore too. And it’ll be the same at Wembley against United, at home to Hull City and beyond.

At around 4.30pm, we all clambered onto the waiting buses and I was lucky to choose The Naughty Boys’ coach, sitting opposite Tommy and Jock.

Someone smuggled some beers onboard and the laughter continued. Simon came out with a classic, aimed at Cliff ( aka Alf Garnett. )

“He’s old, he’s broke, he’s gonna have a stroke, Alf Garnett, Alf Garnett.”

We drove past the Texas Rangers stadium and were soon circling the Cowboys’ Stadium. Time for a few songs aimed at the Club America fans. I snapped away at the gleaming stadium and probably overdid it. We were off the coach at about 5pm and I soon arranged for a photo to be taken of VINCI PER NOI with the stadium behind.

On the walk down to our section, I noted many Club America fans, some with musical instruments, some dancing…tantalising stuff.

We don’t get that at Wigan on a Wednesday night.

I slowed down to take a few more snaps and lost contact with the other Chelsea. I attempted to enter the stadium, but two stewards stopped me from taking my wide-angle lens in. This really aggravated me and I was rude to them both. I was beginning to develop a dislike for Dallas Bloody Cowboys. I was further aggrieved when I saw a Liverpool fan approach. We exchanged pleasantries.

As I approached the wide open entrance plaza behind the eastern goal, I stuffed the camera down inside my shorts ( insert punchline here…) and the wide angle lens in my pocket. I showed my ticket and ambled in, just as Kyle ( breadnbutters ) showed up. I was walking rather awkwardly and a steward asked to see what I had in my shorts ( insert punchline here…) and so I came clean and explained the whole sorry tale. Thankfully, the guy let me enter the stadium. By this stage, Kyle was wetting himself.

Oh boy.

Of all things to welcome me in, I spotted a fresh fruit stall, being manned by the squeaky voiced adolescent from “Krusty Burger.”

“Got any celery mate?”

“Celery? No.”

Missed an opportunity there, mate, I thought.

I soon found myself in the bosom of The Chelsea Family and what a fun time we had. I was a bit dismayed to find some Club America fans in front of me ( although I wasn’t as upset as Cliff…that geezer needs to chill. Sigh. )

The US anthem was sung. Garth Brooks was in attendance. Or was it Garth Crooks?

Of course, we stood the entire game and did our best to get behind the team. Due to the amount of beer consumed over the four days since we arrived in Baltimore, I think the game was a bit of a blur.

Did we play in blue?

No – to be honest, this wasn’t as good a game as the Milan match, but I didn’t really care. I was in Texas watching Chelsea play and it was a dream. It was good to see some of the youngsters play, but I wonder when we will see the likes of Scott Sinclair ( from Bath, my place of birth ), Sam Hutchinson and Michael Mancienne play again. It was great to see Riccy alongside Alex – and I had a good look at Sturridge for the first time, too. There was that mad scramble on the goal-line in the first half and it was quite a scrappy game.

What about the fan’s support? It was generally good, I thought. The NYBs were behind the goal in a standing section and then we were down by the corner flag. However, we have to do something about the God-awful “Let’s Go Chelsea” chant which a lot of the locals were singing. I hope a lot of them join up to CIA and learn the proper way to support us. I think our section must have been the noisiest of the entire stadium as it kept getting shown on the massive screen. I have a few lovely shots of us on the screen – the look on Beth’s nephew’s face is a picture. We did “The Bouncy” and I noted lots of fans videoing us on their phones. Apart from the tedious “Aguilas” chant, didn’t think the CA fans made much noise. I was already aware of the wrestling face-masks which are favoured by Mexican fans, but it still came as a shock to see so many…even a couple of CFC fans with them. Can’t see it catching on down the North End Road next season. Mind you, we have had ski hats in 1985 and inflatables in 1988…anything is possible in Football World.

At half-time, I went off to get a beer and was dismayed by the lines for the toilets…even in a $Billion stadium, still lines at half-time. Some things will never change.

With a 0-0 result looking very likely, it was time for action. Cathy did a lengthy, rasping “Zigger Zagger” in the row behind me and, just after, Franco Di Santo scored his first ever goal for us…I turned around and applauded Cathy. Apparently, this was the third time in which a Chelsea goal followed a “Cathy ZZ” on the tour. Top notch. We were in full voice now and the team pressed on. A fine finish from Florent Malouda ( which I captured on film ) gave us a 2-0 win and my abiding memory of the last few minutes is of our support. The wedge of support between the CIA and the NYBs joined in – albeit with the most basic “Chelsea, Clap, Clap, Clap” – and for a few fleeting moments, if I didn’t look too hard, it felt like an away game in the Premiership.

It had been a lovely occasion – not the best of games – but so enjoyable. JT received the trophy from Jerry Jones and we sang “Champions.” I have to say, it had been a perfect trip…for me, two Yankee wins and two Chelsea wins…for Chelsea, four wins out of four.

It simply does not get any better.

As we slowly made our way out of the stadium, we found ourselves walking through the Cowboy’s club shop and I couldn’t resist a loud shout of

“Chelsea Here, Chelsea There, Chelsea Every YOU KNOW Where.”

Outside, we saw evidence of the horrific rain shower which had taken place at half-time. Back on the coaches to the Storm Cellar and a few quiet beers before calling it a day.

Before leaving Texas on the Monday evening, a few of us visited the historic Fort Worth Stockyards. It was a little drizzly, but we had an enjoyable time…starting with my first ever Mexican breakfast with Beth, Andy, Wobley, Nathan, Jeremy and Danny. I bought a few gifts for some friends back home. The end of the tour was approaching.

Just time for one last thing – Nathan wanted to try some Sarsaparilla and we eventually found some. In a shop selling cowboy boots, cowboy hats, Western wear and Texas nick-nacks, there was a little bar tucked away in a corner, like something from a Western. We sat down and chatted. Soon after, Beth showed up with Neil, Jock and Tommy. Then Detroit Mary and Bob. Virtually the last scene of the 2009 Tour was being enacted before my eyes.

It was surreal. We stood around drinking Sarsaparilla and cracking jokes. Tommy sat on a shoe-shine seat. Neil, Jock and Tommy had some beer.

In a hat shop.

A local guy spotted our Chelsea gear and approached us with a smile on his face. He shouted out “Manchester United” and we booed him.

Much laughter.

If only he knew who we were.

We had a meal at “Cattlemens Steak House” and said our sad goodbyes…

“Love ya.”

Andy kindly drove Tommy, Jock and myself to the airport. I was on the same flight back to Blighty as them – these legends from the 1976-77 promotion campaign…childhood heroes of mine – and this was another surreal moment.

America 2009 had been superb.

Let’s do it again.

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Tales From Babe Ruth’s House And Babe Ruth’s Home

Chelsea vs. Milan : 24 July 2009.

So, here we go…let’s get my 2009-2010 season started. Like all my reports, this one is a very personalised account and I hope that any newcomers to the site understand my emphasis on “the background” stuff which goes on in my Chelsea life.

It clearly ain’t just about the football.

However, before my trip report – here are some numbers.

This would be my fourteenth trip to North America – on almost the twentieth anniversary of my first one in September 1989. It would be my fifth trip to the US to see Chelsea play – the games against Milan and Club America would be games eight and nine in The States. My other sport is baseball and so I decided to avoid the West Coast games in order to squeeze in two New York Yankees games. It would be my ninth trip in which I would be seeing the Yankees play. It would be the third visit in which I would be seeing Chelsea AND the Yanks play on the same trip ( how lucky I have been…) and it would encompass my eighth trip to New York. I would be seeing the Yankees for the 24th and 25th time in New York. It would be my fourth visit to Baltimore, but my first ever visit to Dallas / Fort Worth.

I clearly have a long history of travelling to America. I guess it is why I enjoy posting on here so much.

My trip began with me leaving my home in Somerset at 4.30am on Tuesday 21 July. As I set off in my car, I texted a few people with the immortal line –

“Jack Kerouac.”

Soon after, as I headed east towards Salisbury Plain, I heard back from Beth and Teri, who were with The Legends out in Pasadena. A simple text message brought us all together.

I texted my friend Roma in NC that I was on my way and I was stunned to hear back from her.

“I hope to be able to be with you in Baltimore.”

This was a big surprise. I have known Roma for twenty years – we met in Florida in 1989 – but she hadn’t hinted that she would be able to join me. As I headed towards London, I tried not to get too excited as Roma does tend to leave things to the last moment and I did wonder if she would make it.

My mate Russ – Chelsea – dropped me off at Heathrow and I was on my way through passport control at 7am. Right in front of me was a young boy in full Chelsea kit. That had to be a good sign. I caught three hours’ kip on the BA flight…I was day-dreaming of how the trip would pan out…hoping we could build on our good start in Seattle. Before I knew it, I was on the subway from JFK to Times Square – what a buzz to be back in Gotham once again – and I was booked in at my hotel by 2pm. Ironically, it was opposite the hotel I had stayed at in June 2008 when I came over to pay a last, tearful visit to old Yankee Stadium.

The rest of my first day in America was spent travelling up by subway to 161st Street / River Avenue in The Bronx and watching The Yankees. I chatted to a Bronx native on the train and he wished me a happy spell in America. I then spent time in “Stan’s Sports Bar” for a while, nestled under the noisy elevated rails of the 4 line and across from the bleachers of the old stadium, the original House That Ruth Built. I know the owner, but I had just missed him. I had a chat with a couple of the bartenders, though. I drank two Rolling Rocks. Then into the revamped “Billy’s Sports Bar” for a burger and fries, washed down with a couple of Sam Adams…eight bucks each, though. Ouch. I texted a few friends. I felt I had to share my great sense of happiness at being back in one of my favourite locations. Chelsea will always be my life, and I am rather a lapsed baseball fan, compared to the heady years of 1993-2001, but I still love the beauty and tradition of the game. It acts as a great counter to my fanaticism of football.

It’s a different ball game.

I crossed the road and entered the new stadium. I immediately felt like a customer rather than a fan. The old place was cramped but atmospheric and the ghosts of previous players and fans haunted every nook and cranny. The new stadium is grand no doubts – its walkways are wide and open – but my immediate reaction was that it was like a shopping mall. There was a rain delay for thirty minutes – only my second ever in over 40 baseball games – and so I walked around, buying a box of Crackerjacks, taking it all in.

The game began at 7.30pm and my seat was high up on the first base side, thankfully under the cover of the minimal roof. As Sergio Mitre hurled an opening pitch at the Baltimore Orioles, the drizzle was still falling. That first pitch was hit for a double and the Orioles scored one run in the top of the first. However, the Yanks came from 0-1 and 1-2 down to win 6-4.

Although I am 44, I was carded when I bought some beer…I had to laugh. I soon stopped laughing when I heard the price…ten bucks…or £7.50 in real money. I gulped down a hot dog too. I texted a few folk from my seat high up in the stadium – a few were gathering together in Pasadena for the Chelsea vs. Inter game…I was juggling two teams that night. It felt wonderful.

It was a solid Yankee performance…it always takes me a while to get “into” watching live baseball…on any trip, I usually enjoy a few beers during game one, then hone my watching skills as the trip progresses…I only had one more game on this trip, so my attention had to be sharp. I know a lot of people despise the Yanks, but they are my team and I still get a buzz whenever Robinson Cano makes a great defensive play at second or when Mark Texeira reacts quickly to catch a ball at first.

At baseball, I find myself uttering the American “woo” at a great play rather than the English “yes!” when a Chelsea goal is scored. Why is that?

As the game progressed, I took over a hundred photos, from the first pitch to the last out ( a catch by Derek Jeter in shallow centre ). I thought about my life as an English Yankee fan writing about Chelsea for Americans. I pondered the two sports, the two kinds of support, the tribes, the differing senses of belonging. I have long since come to the conclusion that my trips to baseball cathedrals are purely personal…for a few hours, I get lost in pure Americana, I note the ways of the locals and maybe I try to blend in. It is a weird thing that not once have I ever desired to join a UK-based Yankee fan group, nor watch games with a bunch of UK fans. Not my thing. It’s purely personal for me. I note how this differs from most of the CIA fans I have got to meet since 2004. I wondered why that was. I think that football is the ultimate tribal sport. Baseball is just different. It’s more game-focussed…it’s about the players, not the fans. Fans go to baseball in small groups of three and four. I go to Chelsea with ten and fifteen.

The game ended at around 10.20pm – Frank Sinatra sang “New York New York” – and I had to rush to get down to “Nevada Smiths”, the famous watering hole on 3rd and 14th to see the Chelsea game live on TV. I was straight onto the subway. The crowd had started leaving in the eighth – I could never do that…I think it’s the football fan in me. The express train rattled through Manhattan and I stepped into “Nevada Smiths” bang on 11pm.

At the bar were Burger and Julie. Hugs and kisses. Out by the TV screen were Gill and Graeme. More hugs and kisses. I first met Gill – from Kent – in Nevada’s during the Q&A with Kerry in 2005. The story comes full circle. Also in the bar were NY Blues Carrie, Simon and Henry. It was pretty quiet though – I expected more people.

I supped some pints of Paulaner and watched as Drogs and then Frank scored to give us a 2-0 win. At the first goal, I texted Bob in San Francisco

“THTCAUN.”

He replied

“COMLD.”

For newbies to my reports, I apologise!

We watched the second half with diminishing interest. Burger, Julie and myself were now talking about the anticipation of meeting all of our friends again in Baltimore. We sang songs, Burger did a “Zigger Zagger “ ( you need to work on the tempo, mate! ) and we got more merry…OK, we got drunk. A text came through from Mad Mark in Pasadena saying he had JT’s shirt.

Git.

It was a great win. It looked like a massive crowd. Loads of Chelsea blue in The Rose Bowl.

We said our goodbyes. Burger, Julie and myself took a cab to Times Square. It was around 1.30am…apart from three hours’ kip on the plane, I had been awake for 26 hours.

I awoke at 8am with a headache, so – no pressure, I’m on holiday! – I slept on. By the time I showered and crossed the road for a breakfast at 10.15am, I was fine. I bought a copy of the New York Post…to my great pleasure, the picture chosen to illustrate the Yankee win was the last out…the close up of Jeter grasping the ball. It was an exact copy of my shot of the very same play, albeit in extreme close-up.

Unbeknown to me the previous night, my viewing of the Yankee game had seen us go top of the AL East.

Happy days.

A Yankee win, a Chelsea win. Very happy days.

On the Wednesday, I returned to the stadium.

Two funny things happened on the subway. On the first train I took, I noticed that the woman who was sitting next to me was reading a book.

“On The Road” by Jack Kerouac.

In the next train, opposite me, was a young lad wearing a Chelsea shirt. I showed him my Chelsea ring and we smiled.

Serendipity.

I met the former Yankee Mickey Rivers outside and he signed a photo for me. A lovely souvenir to add to my existing collection of Yankee signed photos.

Inside the stadium and – sunny weather now – I happily watched the Yanks again defeat the lacklustre Birds. New York raced into a 4-0 lead in the first and won again with a 6-4 score, behind the pitching of AJ Burnett. In this second game, I was closer to the action, sitting in the $125 seats in the second tier, level with the pitcher. I really enjoyed the view of this. Burnett pitched well, but the play of the game was a catch by Nick Swisher out in right field. My only purchase, apart from Yankee souvenirs, was a glass of fresh-squeezed lemonade.

Very un-Chelsea like.

Burger texted me to say that he was watching the game in a bar near Canal Street.

I again took many photos. Baseball is such a photogenic sport. The wind up and release by the pitcher. The crouch of the short-stop. The “gloves-up” stance of the first-baseman holding a runner. The clean lines of the diamond. The grass. It was fantastic.

I really didn’t want to leave the stadium, but I knew I had to move on. After a 15-8 record at the old place, I was 2-0 at the new home…and long may it continue.

The rest of Wednesday was just wonderful. I walked amidst tourists and shoppers along Fifth Avenue before returning to my hotel for a change of clothes. Then down to Greenwich Village for a lovely meal in a restaurant called “Rare” – and three more Sam Adams. I phoned Roma and – YES! – she was still keen to attend the game in Baltimore. I needed a spare ticket for her and so I contacted Mike ( who had just landed at JFK from the Inter game ). After an hour of texts and phone-calls, we were sorted and I was so pleased.

I then took a cab up to a lovely, local bar to meet Burger and Julie. It was now 9pm and, to my amusement, they hadn’t moved since the texts I had received at 4pm.

Proper Chelsea.

Proper Burger.

I joined them for a pint of “Blue Moon” and we then got another cab up to our respective hotels.

It had been a perfect day in New York.

I was up bright and breezy on the Thursday. I left my hotel room, had a McBreakfast and met Julie and Burgs at Times Square. My good mate Bob ( unagi1 ) from Fremont in CA had flown over on a red-eye and we met him at Penn Station.

The tribes were gathering.

We headed down to Ground Zero as neither Burger, Julie nor Bob had seen this eerie, silent place. We also raided the adjacent “Century 21” discount department store in a memorable hour. I only bought one item – in fact we all bought one item each – but it was a “must buy.” A brown CP Company jacket reduced from $759 to $279. It would have been rude not to. It will be worn at various away games next season, you can be sure of that.

Via an aborted trip to go on the Staten Island Ferry, we enjoyed a couple of beers in a restaurant near the financial district. We had a great discussion about all sorts. We then caught a cab up to Penn Station – it had to be the most tense cab ride ever, as we left it worryingly late.

Our train to Baltimore left at 2.05pm. We arrived at Penn Station at 1.58pm. Phew. I had joked that I wanted top quality chat on the train because we all knew that as soon as we hit Baltimore, the madness would start.

Three more beers, loads of laughs – great times.

We arrived 45 minutes late in Baltimore but soon got a cab to The Sheraton. We dumped our bags and headed for the Ale House, just a few blocks away. We had heard that the practice session was cancelled, but we hoped this was not the case. We bumped into Beth outside and she was engaged on the phone, no doubt trying to solve yet another logistical problem on this trip. Bless her. As we entered the bar, we were met by many familiar faces…too many to mention. But it was certainly great to see John ( mgoblue06 ) once again – we had enjoyed some fun times back at HQ in the spring. It was great to meet Tommy Langley and Steve Finnieston too – heroes of mine from 1974 to 1980. I had last met them at the CPO last November. Handshakes with many, hugs with Wobley, Mad Mark, Tuna and Simon.

This was it. This is what we had waited two years for.

Chelsea on tour in America – Mow That Meadow!

I downed a beer and set off with a few friends for the practice at the Ravens Stadium. However, there were massive lines. After treating the locals to ten minutes of Chelsea songs, we decided to head back to the pub. We heard later that it was a bit of an anti-climax…no practice, just some autograph signings. And Milan didn’t even show up. I had my photo taken by the Johnny Unitas statue and headed back to the boozer.

Let the fun begin.

From about 7pm to 3am, we drank and sang, then sang and drank, meeting many many people who I have got to know over the years. We disappeared upstairs and I pinned VINCI PER NOI up on the wall. The Q and A began, but I was too busy drinking and chatting. I think Jock was getting some stick for his views on JT. I left them to it and headed downstairs, where the hardcore were based. For the rest of the evening, I hung out with John ( who disappeared off to bed way too early! ), San Francisco Bob, Detroit Bob, Cathy, Mo, Mad Mark, Simon, Tuna, Cliff, Burger, Julie, Spy, Tommy and Jock…plus a few more at various stages. My good mate Chris ( who I had first met at the DC game in 2005 ) showed up, but we sadly shared only a few minutes. I hope he realised it was manic – I had warned him.

After a while, we trooped over to Pickles, just as the rain started. The fun continued as we took over the bar. The beers continued and someone bought us some shots. I got chatting to Neil Barnett for a while and I haven’t a clue what I said to him. I think that it may have been about Chelsea ( pause for effect…)

There were a bevy of local girls nearby and they seemed to be attracted to our English accents and bizarre selection of Chelsea songs. I was chatting to one girl, who reached up and dabbed her finger below my eye, picking up a loose eyelash.

“Make a wish” she said, looking me in the eyes.

Well, dear reader, I can assure you it wasn’t a wish for Sheva to score twenty goals next season.

Before we knew it, the time had raced by and we had to leave. Julie and Burger had gone back to the hotel a bit before and so the last few standing ( Cathy – always Cathy – the two Bobs and myself ) made our way back to The Sheraton. I got inside the room, noted John spread over the entire bed and so grabbed my CP coat and fell asleep on the floor. ( Apparently Julie had woken up a few times and looked over to see John but not me…she was wondering where I was, wondering perhaps if my wish had come true! )

It had been a superb night. I just wish I could remember more of it. Can anyone fill in the gaps?

I woke at about 8am and soon grabbed an hour more sleep in the bed. The other three went down for breakfast and I showered and changed into my match day gear. As you all know, I usually forego Chelsea gear for a multitude of reasons, but I had been on a diet in order to squeeze into my original 1983 Le Coq Sportif shirt – an homage to that 83-84 season which I have been detailing the past year. I think it looked great as it happens.

I walked over to join Eddie’s tour of Camden Yards, the pristine baseball stadium of the Orioles. A statue of George Herman Ruth greated me. The Babe was a Baltimore native and was born a few blocks away. His father owned a saloon bar whose location was actually situated within the current outfield. That’s just beautiful. Ruth’s first pro team was the original Orioles – who moved and became the New York Highlanders, who became the Yankees. That I had just been in NYC watching the Yankees and the current manifestation of the Orioles seemed to be just perfect.

I enjoyed the tour and I was amazed to see Cathy and Mo in the group. I had seen a Orioles vs. New York game in 1993, the highlight being a Don Mattingly homer into right. We had a lovely group photo in the home dugout. That finished around 12.45pm. Back to P Street and I was suffering with a slight hangover. I had a plate of bangers and mash ( so-so ) but began the day with three cokes. The beers could wait. A few NYBs showed up – lovely to see yet more faces.

I phoned Roma who was driving up from near Asheville in NC. She was still 200 miles away. I went back to the hotel to charge up my camera batteries, then headed over to Pickles once again. I guess this was at about 4pm.

Bob and John, with Andy Wray, were already at the bar and I joined them for a few $2 Bud Lites.

Here the fun began again. Over the next three hours, we had so many laughs. I took my photo album from last season around to show to a load of people. Of course, this was our pub, but there were a few Milan fans too. It was so friendly. Chopper, Mike, Lawson, Elliot, Curtis, Karen, Dave, Layla, Keith, Steve, Carrie, Alan, Napoli Frank and the New York Blues were in fine form.

Of course, we took a few photos of the three “Scores” girls, with celery down their cleavage.

Oh boy – too much!

The beers flowed. I met Brian ( carolinablue ) from NC for the first time – we have been emailing each other since 2006. I explained “celery” to some confused locals. I asked Toxic Tel to do me a countdown for a “Zigger Zagger” and it was hillarious – it went something like this…

” 10 – 9 – 8 – 7 – 6 – 7 – 6 – 5 – 4 – 3 – 2 – 1 ”

Amidst laughter from all, I did a hearty “Zigger Zagger” and turned purple. I bumped into the two girls from the previous night again and wished I was twenty years younger. The barbecue smoke outside the pub was strong, the music was loud, but the Chelsea songs came thick and fast.

I phoned Roma and she was stuck in traffic…oh dear. Soon the time came around for us to march to the stadium. Off we went, handing out CIA cards to the blue-clad locals. I met up – all too briefly – with my mate Glenn’s uncle Bob from NJ…he is a Southend United fan and I last met him at HQ for the FA Cup game in January.

By the stadium, I handed over some Chelsea flags to a gaggle of American kids in a hospitality tent. I felt, momentarily, like a true ambassador for my club. A lovely feeling.

Massive lines to get in at 7.30pm. Meanwhile, no Roma.

Aaaaarrrrggghhh.

The traffic on I-95 was truly horrendous and I began to wonder if I would get in for the kick-off.

The answer was “no” – I waited and waited, pacing like an expectant father. I noted many people looking for tickets, plus a few scalpers doing business. At 8.07pm, I heard a massive roar and presumed Milan had scored. Eventually, Roma parked up and we met by the Unitas statue at 8.15pm.

A massive sigh of relief. I gave her a big hug.

I last saw her inside the Home Depot Centre after the Galaxy vs. Chelsea game in 2007. And here we were outside the Chelsea vs. Milan game in 2009.

Two years had passed – it seemed like two minutes.

Amidst loads of giggles, we walked around to our seats in the Chelsea section, right in with the NYBs, five rows behind the CIA lot. We got in at 8.20pm – happy with that. And we were 1-0 up. Drogba with a screamer! Almost immediately, I signalled my entrance with another “Zigger Zagger”, then regretted it. I made up for lost time and clicked many photos. I noted the two Chelsea banners on the side balconies – they usually reside at opposite ends of The Bridge on match days. I wonder who brought them over…I presumed they belonged to the CSG. Seedorf equalised, but I missed this one too, my gaze momentarily distracted by some errant celery.

Roma bought me a beer a half-time. I looked around and saw lots of faces, so full of smiles. It was a great feeling to be so far from home, yet so at home.

I really enjoyed this match. Both teams “went for it” and Milan were a tad unlucky really. They hit the bar twice and forced a great reflex save from Petr. My preparations for this trip have been all about the fans, the songs, the friendships. I had overlooked the fact that none other than Ronaldinho, our former nemesis, would be playing for Milan. His shimmy in the second half was stupendous. I was impressed with Zhirkov and it was his calm strike which gave us a 2-1 win. I have to be honest, I found it hard to concentrate on the football. I was forever looking around at the reactions of the locals to our songs and chants.

I see Chelsea every 5 days back home – or at least I did last season – and so my focus in America has always been on the fans, not the team.

I think Roma fell in love with Sheva’s blonde locks. It couldn’t have been his football.

Overall, I think Milan had more fans – maybe more plastics – but we were far more organised. It had been a result on and off the pitch. But still a few niggles remain…

To be blunt, he Chelsea singing was a bit disjointed I felt…yet again, too many fans not singing, clueless…how anyone can go to a footy game and not even join in leaves me befuddled. Three girls took ages to decipher the simple “Super Frank” chant. Is the English accent that strong? I also noted “Carefree” being sung WAY too slow. Still – that apart, it was a hell of an experience and I hope our antics enticed a few more in to The Chelsea Family.

The game ended and I took a deep breath.

In 2004, around 20,000 had seen us play Roma in Pittsburgh. Five years on, a sell out 71,000 had witnessed my team in Baltimore. I could hardly comprehend it. My personal view is that getting to Moscow really took our “brand awareness” up a few notches in America. I also think we are the first club for any sports fans in America who favour “blue” teams ( Chicago Cubs, Michigan, LA Dodgers, NY Giants, etc) and I think this might be a valid reason for our growth in popularity.

We marched slowly back to the centre of town with Burger, Julie and Mark. Unlike the Thursday, this was to be a far more mellow evening. Pickles seemed to be devoid of any “faces” and so we returned to the Ale House amidst a further rain storm.

We sat outside and got stuck into a few more beers. With Roma alongside me, I mused on a few personal things. It had been surreal to see her again ( we were a long-distance “item” from 2001 to 2006 ) and here we were in Baltimore.

What does it all mean?

“Better not contemplate it too much mate, have another beer.”

The residual hard-core ( no Cathy on this occasion ) on that Friday night in Crab Town was San Francisco Bob, Farmer John, Burger, Julie, Detroit Bob, Simon, Cliff, Tuna, myself – and Roma.

The five inhabitants of room 413 – Burger, Julie, John, Roma and myself – slowly meandered back to The Sheraton amidst much merriment. A bearded fellow – “Santa” – walked past and he was serenaded by us all and I thought Julie would pass out with laughter.

Too much fun.

The time reached 3am and Cary invited us up to his room, but the hotel wasn’t prepared for Chelsea On Tour. One guy complained and so we had the quietest ever “Zigger Zagger” which was whispered by Cliff ( aka Alfie Garnett ) and the room was filled with muffled laughter.

After more complaints about “noise”, we eventually called it a day. The sleeping arrangements were sorted out and Farmer John took a spell on the floor.

3.45am – Room 43, The Sheraton, Walton’s Mountain –

“Goodnight Burger.”

“Goodnight Chris.”

“Goodnight Roma.”

“Goodnight Chris.”

“Goodnight Julie.”

“Goodnight Chris.”

“Goodnight Farmer John.”

“Goodnight Chris.”

“MOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Baltimore had been a blast.

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