As I look back on this season it’s hard to imagine that we are Champions League winners.  After standing in a crowded ground in Genk and seeing Chelsea throw away a win, to standing in the Leverkusen ground and watching us yet again throw away a win, plus all of our home matches.  I never would have guessed that we would have been in the final.  Strangely, it was when we lost in Napoli that I said, don’t worry we’ll be in the final.  That may sound mental but it’s absolutely true.

My trip to Munich was an interesting one but so was everyone else’s.  I boarded a 10 1/2 hour flight from LA into London, landing midday on Friday.  It was only a few hours later that my boyfriend and I, along with a few others, piled into the Magic Bus to begin the tedious journey to Munich.  Dover to Dunkirk, 2 hours and lots of banter.  Off the ferry and on the way to Augsburg after getting stuck in traffic and roadworks for hours, Germany efficiency my arse.  It wasn’t until 16:00 that we finally arrived in Augsburg where the inept hotel woman finally gave us a key to our room.  A very quick shower then a taxi to Munich for the first real meal we’d had in a day.  Beer and pizza never tasted so good.

A walk to Marianplatz to the most densely populated train stop I’ve ever seen. TFL would have had a heart attack.  It was then I wondered why I’d bothered to take a shower.  Ridiculously hot in that station while we all waited to see what train was coming up to then pile on in the hope to get to the Allianz Arena.  Thank you to the Germans for helping us sort that out!  A few handbags and a flare being lit later, we finally got into the train.  Sitting on Ossie’s lap because there was no other way we’d both be able to fit in that train, not that I’m complaining.  The train was buzzing with talk of Moscow, of the final ahead of us and loads of Chelsea songs.  Just the way a pre-match should be.

We finally got to the Allianz stop and made the walk down to the ground.  What a beautiful site the Allianz Arena was!  People mulling about everywhere, buying beer and souvenirs.

We got into the ground and it truly was awe inspiring.  The way a final should be.

Chelsea were underdogs before the game kicked off and throughout the whole match we were  still underdogs.  We were outplayed, it’s as simple as that but our defense did it’s job brilliantly and Cech was magnificent.  An absolute gem.  When the Germans scored, my heart sank.  I sat back in my seat and thought that was it, it’s over.  All of this work and that’s it.  RDM made the switch bringing Torres on and it made a huge impact.  Sitting in my seat when Mata took the corner I thought, “It’s going to go in.”  And it did.  Drogba with a clinical header into the net.  Game on.  All of us went mental.  At least, I know I did.

Extra time.  What I thought would happen from the get go.  What everyone was dreading.  A missed penalty kick by Robben.  A brilliant save from Cech and a bit of cheekiness by Mikel and loads of prayers from me.  I’m sure I wasn’t the only one.

Penalty kicks.  I’ve never prayed so much in my entire life.  Every kick, praying we scored and praying that Cech could stop the Germans.  I like to think that our collective prayers and the player’s (Cech’s especially) preparation won it for us.  Maybe it was more preparation than divine intervention but whatever it was, it worked.  Cech was crowned a legend and so was Drogba as he stepped up to the dreaded penalty spot.  A run up and a ball into the back of the net.  We won.  We were the Champions of Europe.  Finally.

The celebrations were brilliant.  Football, the only place where we are all family.  Hugging, kissing, screaming, crying.  All together.  And yes, I cried but only when I saw JT celebrate.  JT will always have a special place in my heart after everything he’s endured in the Champions League.  I know many gave him stick for what happened in Barcelona but he is a legend in my mind and seeing him finally life that big eared cup the tears started streaming down my face.  I’m getting emotional just writing this now.

I still can’t believe we are Champions of Europe.  What a night. What a trip (not in a good way).  What a way to win the Champions League.

We are the Champions of Europe.  I was there.

Written by Miss Gate 17

I was there. The three greatest words in the English language.

Before the days of wall-to-wall coverage of the Premier League on the internet and cable TV (which meant frozen screens and thousands of frustrated fans when the system got overloaded and crashed in Singapore on the final day of the season two weeks ago), listening to the footie on the BBC World Service on Saturday nights was one of the highlights of the week for fans like myself in the Far East.

Our diet of football on the tube back then was limited to a week-old highlights programme called Big League Soccer and live broadcasts of the FA Cup and European Cup finals which (in those days) never featured Chelsea.

In that void, it was radio that offered us an immediate connection to the games taking place in England and what a treat it was! Listening to the descriptive voice of the excited commentator with the audible reaction of the crowd in the background, you could paint in your mind an image of what was going on thousands of kilometres away.

The excitement would build as the volume of the commentator’s voice would rise and the tension would be notched up when the presenter would suddenly break in to say that they were going to go to a reporter at another match to tell us of a goal, a penalty, a sending-off or even a full-scale pitch invasion.

For good or bad, the fact that we now get to watch every Premier League match live on TV in South-east Asia means that radio is nowadays considered as an afterthought when we want to whet our football appetite.

But on the night of perhaps the biggest match in Chelsea’s history, it proved to be my saviour as I desperately tried to find a way to follow the action in Munich.

That was partly my fault as I had shown such little confidence in the team after the debacle in Naples that I had booked and pre-paid for a family holiday for May 19.

So instead of getting together with fellow Blues fans on the Saturday of all Saturdays, I found myself instead sitting in front of a projector screen at an Indonesian resort hotel at 1:50am, watching a New York Yankees baseball game.

I was reassured that the resort’s technicians were working to get the feed of the game that me and the 10 other sleepy guests there really wanted to watch. But knowing that five minutes had already gone in the match, I decided to take a different tack.

I grabbed my laptop and MP3 player and headed for the fourth floor lobby to try to find an internet and radio signal. The internet connection was poor but the FM radio transmission from 50 kilometres away in Singapore came through loud and clear and I was soon immersed in the action at the Allianz Arena as Chelsea repelled Bayern’s advances. I listened intently as Petr Cech turned an Arjen Robben attempt against the post and bit my nails nervously as our defenders constantly gave up possession in dangerous areas.

 I could have carried on sitting where I was and listening to the whole match unfold on my radio but about 10 minutes after I had tuned in, one of the resort staff came up and told me that the TV feed had been fixed. So as romantic as the notion of listening to the game on the radio may have been, I turned off the radio and went back to watching the game on the big screen.

There may have been a distinct lack of Chelsea fans there (most of the people there were cheering for Bayern although I doubt that they were really die-hard fans of the German club) but given how the game went, I probably woke up most of the resort when Didier Drogba tucked the ball away with his final kick for the club in the shootout.

Listening to the game on the radio was great but seeing the celebrations that followed and watching Frank Lampard and John Terry lift the trophy after all our years of frustration and disappointment in the competition were moments that I was only too glad to have seen with my own eyes.

There has been a lot of speculation in the media and forums about Chelsea’s victory being undeserved. Some of the popular negative responses to Chelsea’s victory were:

• They played unattractive and ugly football by parking the bus and letting the opponent (both Barcelona and Bayern) possess the ball for the majority of the game.
• They set out for a 0-0 score and hoped to win on penalties.
• Borderline cheating and the only reason they made it this far was the millions given to them.
• Look at the stats. Bayern (and Barcelona) dominated the whole game.
• A team that only defends should never win anything.
• Bayern’s profligate finishing cost Bayern, not anything Chelsea did.
• Chelsea think they deserved to win because they lost in 2008.
• Chelsea had a cheating run.
• Winning on penalties is not that deserved.
• Chelsea are the worst team to win the European Cup.

And Edwin Van Der Sar’s infamous quote before the 2nd leg of the semi-final in Barcelona:

For the sake of the game and for football in general, I hope Barcelona win at Camp Nou.

I laughed at him then and I must admit, writing this here made me smirk again.

Let me make a few things clear before I go on with why Chelsea deserved to win. Sometimes, parking the bus is the only way to beat an opponent. Before any club shows the world how to beat Barcelona in a different way, I stand by my opinion. Although Bayern may not appear as threatening as the world’s best from Spain, Chelsea were missing their key players in Terry and Ivanovic, whose absence left them vulnerable. Clearly the midfield and even attackers had to chip in a bit, to help Luiz and Cahill (or as the lovely Spaniards say: Cah-heel) who were doubtful to start just a day before the game, due to recent injuries. Chelsea didn’t go to Munich to run around like chickens, they needed a game plan that would suit them. This was what the obvious solution, correct me if I’m wrong.

To say that Chelsea set out for a 0-0 score to win on penalties is ridiculous. An English team hoping to win against a German team on penalties – ha! I believe even a sensible Manchester United, Liverpool or Arsenal fan would say that’s rubbish. Whenever Champions League games have gone to penalties, Bayern have won four times out of four occasions, whereas Chelsea have lost twice out of two occasions. Penalties were the last thing I wanted because we have lost too many games on penalties. Our FA Cup run last season ended in a penalty shoot out, and who could forget Moscow. Even on international level England hasn’t been excelling much at penalties.

Had Bayern taken their chances, I know they would have won. But it’s not that they didn’t take their chances that cost them the title, it’s that Cech and co. didn’t let them take their chances. The Blues’ defence worked hard to keep the goal safe, so to say Chelsea didn’t do anything to keep Bayern from scoring is OTT. Petr Cech did some of the finest saves of this season and in my eyes he was one of the heroes on Saturday. He managed to deflect Robben’s ball onto the post. A very close shot. He also guessed the right way to stop Robben’s penalty kick in injury time, giving Chelsea another 40 minutes of chances. And then he saved Ivica Olic’s kick in the penalty shootouts. Ashley Cole being another defensive hero, led the whole defensive line, covered for the inexperienced Bertrand, and made a vital block. When he stepped up to take a kick in the penalty shootouts, my heart skipped a beat (as you may remember he missed the decisive penalty kick in last season’s FA Cup 4th round against Everton) but he didn’t disappoint me, and to my amazement he didn’t even look frightened. David Luiz hit the penalty kick of the night and Mikel had possibly his best game of the season. Yes, Bayern had about 30 shots off target but when they hit on target, Cech was solid, as were his “assistants”.

Chelsea might not have been the strongest team to win the European Cup, but they didn’t play badly at all. They saved their energy in the first part of the game, but dominated the extra time when Bayern were getting tired and started losing hope after Drogba’s equalizer in the 88th minute and then Robben’s penalty miss. Chelsea however were more determined to bag that trophy, and even Müller’s 83rd minute goal didn’t slow Chelsea down. Throughout the competition it looked like Chelsea wanted the Holy Grail more than anyone else. Beating Valencia away, which was the last game in the group stages, was crucial for Chelsea in order to make the knockout stages. Then they came from behind to beat the odds and send Napoli out of the competition. In the semi-final 2nd leg at Camp Nou Chelsea were clear outsiders and before half-time they were 2:0 down; yet, thanks to Ramires’ wondergoal and Torres’ compulsory goal against a Spanish opponent in the last minute, Chelsea shocked the world by finishing Barcelona’s title hopes. And now the final – although clearly outplayed for the majority of the 130 minutes, Chelsea never looked insecure or scared to lose. Bayern’s goal should have brought them down, but no, Drogba got his chance and he delivered. A few minutes later Cech looked confident when Bayern were awarded a penalty. Robben did not look as confident.

Here’s a bit of Champions League history for you:

• 2004/05: Liverpool beat AC Milan on penalties.
• 2002/03: AC Milan beat Juventus on penalties.
• 2000/01: Bayern beat Valencia on penalties.
• 1995/96 Juventus beat Ajax on penalties.
• 1990/91 Crvena Zvezda beat Marseilles on penalties.
• 1987/88 PSV beat Benfica on penalties.
• 1985/86 Steaua beat Barcelona on penalties.
• 1983/1984 Liverpool beat Roma on penalties.
• 1973/74 Bayern beat Atletico on penalties.

I dare you to tell a Liverpool fan they didn’t deserve to win in Istanbul, I dare you!

Moving on to the claims that cheating is the reason why Chelsea don’t deserve the European Cup. You can say all you want about Chelsea cheating, but 1) everyone cheats, and 2) can you honestly say Chelsea cheated their way through Champions League? All I can vividly remember is Drogba’s theatrics in the semi-final first leg, which weren’t exactly dives, just exaggerations. Busquets did hurt him a lot, just not as painfully as Drogba made it look. He was embarrassing at times, I admit.

I’m not even going to bother with the money-talks. It’s getting old.

What I won’t accept is people saying Chelsea play unattractively. This final was one of the most exciting games of football I have ever seen. I couldn’t feel relaxed for a minute as my eyes were fixed on the screen, watching Cech make world class saves, Drogba going forward and Bayern missing a chance after another. Chelsea were clinical, and I remember Manchester United play like that on a few occasions. It always shocked me how they could pass the ball around and not get near the goal for most of the time and then they got one chance and scored. Chelsea are generally the opposite of that but now they got the taste of this too.

Tactics and will-power is what mattered in that competition this season. Roberto Di Matteo has ignited the players’ passion and pushed them for the ultimate goal – to get the Holy Grail before some of the long-serving Blues – Drogba, Lampard, Cole, Terry, Malouda, Essien – depart from the club. And what better way for Drogba to finish his career with Chelsea than to score the decisive penalty kick which made him the hero of the tournament! Another hero on Saturday for me was Cech. He revived Chelsea’s hopes by saving Robben’s injury time penalty. There was not a sign of insecurity among any of the Chelsea players, even though they were playing on a ground that’s basically Bayern’s home ground. Mentally they were the strongest team in the competition.

Up the Chels!

Written by Annely

I could just end the article there on that point alone. Every Chelsea fan reading it would nod and say the same. Supporting Chelsea has never been a bed of roses, in fact it’s more like a bed of rusty nails at times. This season in particular has been like being in the passenger seat of one of those stunt aircraft flown by near psychopathic thrill seeking pilots at air-shows. Exhilarating at times, vomit inducing at others. The first part was more often than not the vomit inducing period, but now the latter part since RDM took the helm has been a potent mixture of both, with the vomit being induced by the sheer thrills involved. Whatever anyone says, when last season faded away over  a period, this season has been rekindled from the smallest of burning embers. We can only hope that by Saturday night those embers of hope have turned into a raging inferno of glory and pride.

I’ve been supporting Chelsea for around 40 years now, since the 1970 FA Cup final when I was hijacked by football as a young boy and sold to Chelsea FC as a lifelong slave. Now some of you might think the term ‘slave’ is a bit strong, but is it? I get nothing from the club in terms of monetary reward. I write here for love not money. I write on our little blog (www.chelseafcblog.com) for love not money. I do a podcast (The Podding Shed on iTunes) for love not money. Of course the reward is in the glory, the thrills are in the journey, but in essence, the club says jump and I answer ‘how high’. No matter what i think of manager selection, kit styles, ticket prices, merchandise prices, stadium beer selection or anything the club decide, I go along with it. And I pay for the privilege of doing that. I’m struggling to find a difference between football fanaticism and religion.  For the pedants they’re right, it isn’t slavery. But it is something that holds you and grips you and won’t let you go.

Back in 1970 of course, I was emotionally unformed. Everything was exciting and emotions could not be stemmed. During the replay I cried when we were losing. As documented in a previous post I went to get my 2 biscuits nightly treat and missed Osgood equalising. When we won the game I didn’t cry because I was just too excited by everything. A Blue for life. Of course come 1997 and our best chance of winning a trophy in the FA Cup against Middlesbrough after 27 years of pretty relentless misery and false hopes and dawns I was 36 years old. By this time I was an emotionally fully formed adult (well as much as a man can be) and therefore the importance of this game was elevated to utterly unreasonable levels, I still have the VHS tapes of the whole day from the BBC. I remember the interview with the sadly late Tony Banks MP in which he said in response to a question on if he felt good (I paraphrase)

‘Are you joking? I’ve never felt worse in my life. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t drink. My nerves are shattered and I feel sick to my stomach’

That could have been me speaking. Since that time those feelings have been pretty much the same in varying degrees for every single game since. Every single game. I am one of those fans whose weekend is utterly ruined by a defeat. A man who dreads facing people at work on a Monday because of the weekend game, or any other day if we have a midweek game. Or any game. Of course a dead rubber game like the last one at Stamford Bridge  wasn’t as  stressful but I didn’t want us to win any less. The levels of stress for the FA Cup Final were off the scale in the build up (I damn near wore a trench into carpet through pacing) and during the game. I think it was safe to say I could have changed my name by deed poll to Mr PottyMouth. I am that emotional I lose control of all contextual surroundings irrespective of who’s nearby. Hence in the days when I would get Corporate invites into the posh seats or a box I would shake the hands of the people who’s guest I was and apologise for anything they were to witness during the game. I think some thought they had invited a real life Jekyll and Hyde character.

And they were right.

And so we move on to Saturday night. A huge game versus Bayern Munich for the crown of Champions of Europe. A proper European final, in proper Europe against a giant of European football and not a team 150 miles up the M6. A European final that isn’t a glorified repeat of a Super Sunday Premiership game. It’s well documented that I ran the white flag up the pole during the second half versus Barcelona and decided to become a hermit for 50 minutes with all technology switched off and a rerun of QI to distract me. And even after that game I was calm and relaxed about the final. No doubt sensations granted by the comparative time between then and now. But tomorrow there is no easy escape. I have fellow fans coming round to enjoy it in full HD. We will suffer together and hopefully celebrate together. We will kick every ball, head every header, be in every tackle. We will shout, scream, cajole, barrack, abuse, banter, cry and sulk. We will  direct this volley of emotions at everyone involved, coach, players, fans, opposition, commentators, the TV itself, our beers and no doubt ourselves.

Real fans aren’t measured by how much they spend, how many games they go to or how much merchandise they own. They’re measured in terms of everything I’ve mentioned above. In a nutshell its all about  how much we suffer. Already I have the exact symptoms of Tony Banks on that day back in 1997. Food looks unappetising, feeling bilious, restful sleep a distant memory, concentration something I can only aspire to, not being able to be more than 50 metres from a toilet, running through every single team permutation in my head, reading all the omens, discarding all the omens, reading them again and even PRAYING!  Yes praying, even though I’m a confirmed atheist, a man of science and logic in every other aspect of my life except this one . Chelsea blinking Football Club.

Tomorrow folks, its the big one. The biggest one to date. Bigger than Moscow because its genuine Europe. The chance to win Old Big Ears itself. It’s the glory. It’s not about qualifying for next year. Its about winning the damn thing. Being a Chelsea fan isn’t a vocation. It isn’t a religion. It isn’t slavery.

It’s a disease. A lifelong disease. There is no cure. You all have it. Enjoy it. Make the most of it.

KTBFFH!

I’m debating whether to travel to Germany next week. It would mean making a return trip of almost 11,000 miles for just two days, but I hear there’s a big match on.

I can leave on Thursday and fly from New Orleans to Dallas and then onto Frankfurt, arriving on Friday morning. Then I would take the train to Munich for the game, and do the reverse journey on Sunday. Sounds easy, right?

I have a pilot mate who can get me a (relatively) cheap airline ticket. A friend of a friend in Munich will probably put me up at his place, as the only available hotels I can find are 400 Euros a night. The one thing holding me back? Finding a ticket for the Final.

No matter what competition it is, no matter what year it is, it’s always the same. When it comes to the “title eliminator” there are never enough to go around. I’m not complaining about it – it’s only fair that those who watch the Blues every week, who spend thousands of pounds travelling with them year in, year out, are rewarded for their loyalty. There will be thousands of fans – even tens of thousands – who are a lot more deserving than me who will be disappointed they didn’t make the cut. To use a hated Americanism, “It is what it is.”

If I open a Willy Wonka chocolate bar this weekend and there is a golden Champions League ticket in it then it would be like, radical, and far out, and cool. Munich? I’m so there, dude. But assuming one does not magically appear in the next few days then I have to decide if I will go regardless and look for a ticket when I get there. But it’s such a long way.

When I lived in Belfast I would not have given it a second thought. Hop on a plane and take my chances. I flew to Rome, Barcelona, Milan – hell, even the snowy wasteland of Tromso – and always got to see the game. But it’s different when you don’t even live on the same continent, and you run the risk of flying halfway across the world to watch it on TV. In a German bar. In German. With Germans.

Yep, just my luck. Add to the difficulty why don’tcha? We make the final of the most prestigious club competition in the world – and are up against a team playing at home. Great. How many times has that happened in the last 60 years?

I went to Barcelona for the Champions League game in April 2000 with my American girlfriend (now wife). I spent two fruitless days hunting for a ticket but on the night of the tie I went to the ground early and managed to pick one up from a fellow fan. I can still remember the excitement as I stood in the Nou Camp at the top of that towering terrace, a lazy Catalan sun settling behind the Pyrenees on a balmy late-Spring evening, as I dialled Julie back in the hotel room to tell her the good news. The phone rang for ages and I was just starting to worry when she answered and I blurted out, “I got a ticket darling, I’m in!”

There was a pause, then she replied: “Stephen – I was in the bath!” Fair to say she wasn’t quite as excited as me.

Just to add a delicious final flourish to the irony, I’ve actually been to a Champions League final. I won the UEFA ticket lottery and went to see AC Milan play Juventus in 2003. It was an awful, dull, nil-all borefest and Old Trafford was flecked with clumps of empty seats as Italian fans stayed away in droves. It won’t be like that next weekend.

In the meantime I’ll keep looking and hoping and scheming and planning. Maybe right at the last minute I’ll do an intercontinental runner – while my wife is taking a bath…

Stephen Rea is the author of the book Finn McCool’s Football Club, a tale of supporting Chelsea from the United States, the formation of a pub football team in New Orleans and the devastating effect of Hurricane Katrina on that city. Visit his site here: www.stephen-rea.com or friend him at www.facebook.com/stevorea

I stumbled across this photo on a fan’s blog this morning and it so perfectly captures the elation I’m feeling as this football seasons draws to a close. I wanted to use the opportunity to offer you my sincere thanks.

This season has been one of the hardest for me in quite some time. Sure, throughout Chelsea’s history we’ve experienced a lot worse, but it wasn’t just the slump in performance or the low position in the table that were getting to me. While nothing would ever make me stop passionately supporting the blues, there were times during this campaign that I felt very disheartened with the club.

Fernando Torres still wasn’t scoring. Andre Villas-Boas wasn’t living up to the expectations many people had for him. Supporters were frustrated with some club business, including the possibility of moving to another stadium. Rumours were circulating of unhappiness and dissent in the squad. And we weren’t winning as often as we’d had liked.  Those matters combined, it felt like some of the optimism we as supporters usually still feel even when the team isn’t doing well was starting to slip away.

I flew to the UK from Canada in late January and was in Swansea for our lacklustre draw and at Stamford Bridge for our crushing draw against Manchester United after being ahead. While I’m always thrilled with my annual trips to watch Chelsea play, the actual matches were frustrating. During that same trip, I watched on Sky Sports as it was announced first that John Terry would once again be stripped of his England captaincy and then that Fabio Capello was stepping down. Shortly after arriving home, I woke up one morning to the news that Andre Villas-Boas was released as Chelsea manager, and you were appointed as interim first-team coach.

I was at an all-time low in my football year, but suddenly I knew that change was coming. I was hopeful. But I never could have imagined how our season would have ended.

Suddenly, it’s like there was life back in the club. The joy seemed to have returned to the first XI. They players were starting to find their roles on the pitch and work more fluidly than I’d witnessed  in the first part of the season. We were winning. I felt truly excited about being a Chelsea supporter once again!

To see you on the sidelines, celebrating every goal, every win, with such no-holds-barred happiness has been tremendous. During press conferences, I hear the conviction in your voice. And it’s obvious too all of us as supporters that the boys are happy to have you as their manager. My personal belief is that the reason why Chelsea has had a “revolving door” in management for the past few years is because you were meant for this role. It’s like you’re the leader the team needs, but at the same time we get glimpses of the past, when you were playing. My impression is that in your heart, you’re still one of the first XI, and the current players can identify with you (and thus perform for you.)

Over the past few weeks I felt comfortable that this may be a season free of glory and hardware but filled with promise. I was at peace with the fact that we might not even qualify for the Champions League next season. But then we just kept on winning. To knock Barcelona out of the Champions League was incredible, and to win the FA Cup last weekend was utterly amazing. You’ve clearly “rallied the troops” and by that I mean both the players and the fans.

Now the most crucial match of the year is ever-closer. I believe we will win on May 19th and finally see Chelsea add the Champions League trophy to their collection. To see John Terry and Frank Lampard, in particular, finally lift that cup will be a dream come true, and my wish is that the win secures you the job of Chelsea manager. However, regardless of the outcome, I’m thankful.

Whether or not Chelsea Football Club wins the Champions League, and whether you are retained permanently by the club or move on to another role, I’m ever so grateful. You have played a crucial role in turning this season around and getting the best out of the squad, and you have been pivotal in lifting my spirits.

Mr. Di Matteo, I offer you my sincere thanks. You have “kept the blue flag flying high.”

Yours,

Danielle Knowles

Blogger, Miss SW6

What used to be called as anti-football has now become defensive masterclass. What used to be called parking the bus was now called defensive organisation and discipline. What was called parking the bus is now called Barca’s inability to break through a tight defence. What was called a defeat for football is now being called success for the british bulldog spirit. This has been a subtle transformation and this is widespread cutting across all club affinities.

How did this happen? I personally think that people have learnt some lessons in football. As simple as that. Yes, Barcelona are the most fluent football team, probably ever. They are the guardians for what’s being called ‘beautiful football’. They are the gods and angels of football. And these impressions of FC Barcelona meant they can’t be beaten fairly and anyone that beats them might have used unfair means. They just cannot be deservedly beaten. And there was an expectation that the opponents play and beat Barca at their own game and anything else is going to be a lucky win or a defeat for football.

Have things changed? Hell yes! Fooball community, including the pundits, have learnt some important lessons in football. Barcelona’s playing style is not from the training ground, it’s from their roots and their culture. And theirs is one way of playing football. Some love it. Some don’t (yeah, it’s me). While they are definitely beautiful to watch, I find their approach highly one-dimensional and surely crackable. And that’s what teams take advantage of. This wasn’t a beauty pageant on the Camp Nou that night. It was a hard-fought contest whose prize was a place in the Champions League final.

Barca played like they always do. Chelsea simply stayed with organisation and discipline, soaked up all the pressure waiting to deliver the knockout blow when they get their chances. You can’t blame Chelsea’s approach. It has worked in the past not just for Chelsea but for various other teams. Why would we change that when Barcelona haven’t figured out to deal with that? And hence, you have pundits finally saying in chorus that Barca don’t have a plan B and teams like Chelsea are perfectly fine in exploiting that.

If we are planning to match Barca’s playing style, we need to do hundred other things before we try to match them on the pitch. Until then, we can be clever in our approach. Until then, we can play intelligent football instead of what’s called ‘beautiful football’. Personally, I’m not a fan of Barca’s style of football. I do like the fast and opportunistic style as against the slow and deliberate style. And it’s okay to not like Barca’s style. And it’s okay to play football with a different style and still be called good football. I’m a proud Chelsea fan as I know my team is versatile. They can play in many ways. They can play in different ways even in the 90 minutes of one game. Versatility is an identity in itself.

Barcelona are not gods of football. And hence it’s not blasphemous to beat them by not playing their game. You play in a way that helps you achieve your objective. To expect teams to play Barca with Barca’s vision and approach to football is plain silly. Who is to say which is the right method? It’s purely subjective. I think there is a great realisation of this fact in the wider football community. And hence I think there was widespread appreciation for Chelsea’s efforts against Barcelona. And for once, after Chelsea played Barca, I heard them all say, Chelsea fully deserved to go to the final at the expense of Barcelona.

Nothing changed in style and approach. All that changed was the mindset and perception. It’s about time Chelsea got credit and there’s nothing like football media showering praises on Chelsea. Music to my ears!

I blame that on the FA. Fans in England might have had reason to complain about the inconvenience of the 5.15pm kick-off but what about us fans in Asia? In Singapore, the match kicked off at the very family-friendly time of 12.15am which basically ruined any chance of my four-year-old son watching his first FA Cup final live.

There were of course organised gatherings by the local fan clubs for the live TV screenings in this part of the world. About 120 Blues fans were at the Esplanade in Singapore while an impressive 1,500 showed up for the gathering in Jakarta (and then trooped off to a city landmark – the Bundaran HI water fountain to celebrate the victory afterwards).

I would have gone to the Esplanade but having spent the entire day with two energetic toddlers, I was hardly in the best state to make the journey from the suburbs to the city to watch the game.

So I made do with watching the game in my aforementioned lucky shirt – the home blue kit from 1999-00 similar to the one worn by Robbie when he smashed in the winner in the last FA Cup final at the old Wembley. It is not my favourite Chelsea shirt and it is probably the most uncomfortable to wear in the tropics given its thick polyester. But it has proven to be lucky for me, so far.

Now let me say first of all that I am not generally a superstitious person and I do not think that anything that I do has a direct effect on the fortunes of the football team that I support 10,000 kilometres away. But I’ve made it a habit to wear the shirt while watching the Blues in every FA Cup final since 2007 when I got together with five Man U-supporting friends and went absolutely mental when Didier poked home the winner in extra-time.

That habit has only been reinforced as we have won every subsequent FA Cup final when I have worn it. It worked in 2009 and 2010 when I attended the fan gatherings. And it worked once again this year as I jumped about in my flat, punching the air and cheering (silently) when Ramires and Drogba found the net and JT and Lamps lifted the Cup yet again.

Normally, I would have packed away the shirt by now but of course, there is still one more final to be played on May 19. And while I don’t think that my sartorial decision on that day will be as important as Robbie’s team selection, I am sure that I will be thinking hard about what I will be wearing before that kick-off in Munich.

A performance so polished which ably demonstrated the unity and strength of our team and the ability of the players to get the right result on the day. A display which delighted us all as Chelsea fans and brought dismay to the supporters of our opponents who could only agonise as we brought their inflated collection of players sharply down to earth.

And of course, Fernando Torres scored… three goals in fact.

Yes, the 6-1 demolition of Queens Park Rangers last Sunday is one that will live long in my memory banks, as will the 2-2 draw in Barcelona earlier in the week.

But while the former was a largely agonising 90 minutes in which the spectre of defeat hung over until the cathartic release of Torres’ breakaway goal in stoppage time, the west London derby was a joy from the moment that Daniel Sturridge smashed in the opener after 45 seconds.

For the first time since October’s 5-1 win over Bolton, I could sit back and enjoy a Blues game, savouring every moment as we tore out the hearts of our opponents goal by goal.

Why did I enjoy the game so much? I have four reasons.

Firstly, it was an instant antidote to accusations that we were a dull and defensive side after the Barcelona tie. The way that we played those games reflected our huge respect for Barça as an attacking force and the need to adapt our play to counter their tika-taka style. We didn’t play negative football; we played a tactically effective and disciplined game that brought us one of the most memorable results in our history.

Secondly, it showed our ability to get a huge performance from our players in a domestic match just days after our exertions on the continental stage. That shouldn’t be a real surprise because we’ve won eight of our last nine games on the weekend after a Champions League game but with the matches coming thick and fast before the end of the season, the strength in depth of our squad will be greatly tested. So to make six changes to our line-up and to still get a great result speaks volumes.

Thirdly, Torres got a hat-trick. He looks to have got his confidence back and that can only be a huge plus as we come to our last few crucial games.

And finally, it just felt good to hammer QPR. Let me firstly qualify that this has nothing to do with the goings-on that resulted in the sensible cancellation of the pre-match handshakes. It goes back much further than that.

Long before we were a major force in England or Europe, QPR were bitter rivals. In fact, in the 1970s and 1980s when we struggled against the likes of Arsenal, Liverpool and Spurs (but always seemed to beat Man United), they were perhaps our biggest rivals.

For me personally, my early memories of supporting the Blues are scarred by the memory of 1986 when they eliminated us in the quarter-finals of the League Cup (when it was still a fairly big competition) and then hammered us 6-0 on their plastic pitch on Easter Monday.

It’s taken 26 years to extract a measure of revenge for that result although I would have enjoyed it more if we could have scored seven or more. That may have to wait until next season… assuming that they are in the same division by then.

As I’ve mentioned before, being a stay-at-home dad without the use of a car in the afternoon means that I watch midweek games alone on my sofa. With 20 minutes left though my neighbour called and said he was coming over to watch the end of the match with me. He’s not even remotely a football fan – at least not our type of football – but I guess he got caught up in the drama. Or maybe he just felt sorry for me.

Either way, it was good to have someone to share our achievement with. But whether you were home alone, down the pub with your mates, or at the ground with the fans, I’m sure you enjoyed it. After all, maybe it was the greatest night in our history.

Stephen Rea is the author of the book Finn McCool’s Football Club, a tale of supporting Chelsea from the United States, the formation of a pub football team in New Orleans and the devastating effect of Hurricane Katrina on that city. Visit his site here: www.stephen-rea.com or friend him at www.facebook.com/stevorea

I have been following Chelsea for well over thirty years now and have seen us score plenty of goals over time both in the ground or at home but this goal was different because it means so much, it has given us the second chance we always wanted.

After Moscow and what happened there, all we wanted was another crack in another final and being honest over the last two years we haven’t looked like making it have we? It seemed as though our time had come and gone in an instant and I will never forget the feeling I went to bed with that night. I remember waking up the next morning and for an instant wondered if it was all just a dream. Within seconds it had hit home, we had lost on penalties to United.

During the last couple of seasons you couldn’t help but wonder if this group of players would be able to take us there and like I said, it had become something that seemed to be moving further and further away from our grasp.

As players they must have thought the same thing. Whether they would like to admit it or not is another thing, we always had that night in Moscow in the back of our minds. What we would give to have just one more crack at winning it!

The two performances against Barcelona mean so much to everyone connected with the club, the manager, the players and the supporters and I am still sitting here buzzing from the fact that we have beaten arguably the best club side the world as ever seen. The non Chelsea fans I come into contact with are sick of me going on about it but for once, I don’t care.

We all know the success we have had at this club in the last eight seasons but, the general opinion in football is that you can only be called a top, top European side and one of the elite when you have won the Champions League. It has become the biggest prize in club football.

We were written off before a ball was even kicked and no one gave us a chance, especially over two games against them. I kept hearing things like “You might get a good result at Stamford Bridge but over there will be a different story”. I will be honest, before both games I knew it would be a big ask but look what has happened.

In two games we have seen this group of players go above and beyond the levels of expectation from us all. We have seen everyone dig in, fight for the shirt, for the club, the manager, each other and for the supporters. We have seen players play in positions and roles that they will never be asked to again and they have done it. We have seen players literally form a defensive wall as one for almost three hours of football to hold out and to be given that second chance they always wanted.

The so called Chelsea “Old guard” have been written off during the course of the season and for one reason or another but it’s these players that have pulled us through. They knew what it would take to get us there, passed that knowledge and experience onto the players who have been added to the squad since Moscow and this group of players has taken us to the final.

The thing is, no matter who you are and where you watched the game last Tuesday at the Nou Camp, whether you believed in Chelsea or if you expected Barcelona to win. You have been left with little doubt about this Chelsea team. You have seen the hunger, the desire and the determination that our recent success has been built on rise up to the surface again.

Backs to the wall, written off and finding ourselves in the worst possible situation after 40 minutes of the first half gone, I think we all feared the worst or thought it was game over. Yet again, this team never gave up, pulled themselves together and kept on going, kept on fighting and delivered a performance that will go down in European history.

All these players wanted was a second chance and on Saturday May 19th in Munich they have what they wanted and will give everything to win it.

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It is said this phrase was once said by Sir Alex Ferguson. A man I dislike and yet grudgingly admire in almost equal measures based purely on my personal politics of envy. I have a theory that I espoused here once and also at our very unofficial ChelseaFC Blog that no one knows anything about football. But maybe, just maybe the old boy is someone who might have more of an inkling than most.

In reality I suspect that last night even Sir Alex himself was scratching his head and tearing up every theory of football he thought he knew. Of course in reality the very game itself is such a pot-pourri of chance, skill and downright anti-logic. Any ‘Professor’ of football is a charlatan who bases theory on statistics and tenuous connections. And that includes every single one of us fans. Every one of us illogical, superstitious fools. Surely if ever a term deserved the description of being an oxymoron it would be ‘sensible logical football fan’.

Barcelona are our uber-nemesis as I’ve said before. Barely a game between us in years of football, and then like London buses we get one almost yearly. And they are never short of controversy or amazing stories. However, for me, their football, as pretty as it can be, is the equivalent of drinking a cup of tea with 4 sugars. Refreshing if you haven’t drunk anything for a few days, but by the 3rd cup you’re feeling more than the sugar rush. you feel sick.  They are the footballing equivalent of Samantha Brick …not quite as beautiful as they like to think. Add to that the fact they have no Plan B.

If they can’t walk the ball through you then they enter some kind of eternal football processing loop whereby they end up living the mantra of Einstein that stated ‘the definition of madness is repeating the same thing over and again and expecting different results’. They are the worst kind of football narcissists ever seen. I have a word for this. It’s Barcissism. They can’t pass a mirror without a sideways glance and an imaginary pass of the ball. I imagine they have the sort of dressing room that might be packed with John Frieda style crimpers and preeners and make up artists. I imagine they have ‘runners’ whizzing about looking after the individual needs of each and every one of their stars. Puyol aside. He is pure caveman, and more power to him for it. He’s like Lemmy in a room full of Peter Andre lookalikes. Because of this we’re often portrayed as the anti-football, but last week and last night I prefer that Chelsea be thought of as the antidote to the sickly sweet poison of tiki-taka football conveyed through a Catalonian form of dance.

And so a brief precis of the game

I’m no fan of endless debates on tactical formations, and even less so regarding statistics. For me tactics often get slung out of the bath water with the baby when the other team does something unexpected, or events conspire for or against a team. Or players do daft things. Yes, I think you know who I might be referring to here. Statistics are the root of all scaremongering or one-upmanship and if anything the recent CL games proved the futile nature of their use as the sole premise of debate or argument. Apart from one stat, the one in the goals column, nothing else matters that much.

Pre-match I was full of nerves and as daft as it sounds it took a real effort to sit down and watch as the tippy-tappy ballet dancing prima-donnas started to waltz through us in their flouncing, prancing, diving manner. Within 5 minutes, despite a bright start for us, it was obvious we were going to be subject to football’s equivalent of Rourkes Drift yet again. That or The Battle of Little Bighorn. Roughly 10 minutes in and the first tactic ruining event occurs as the impressive Gary Cahill slides awkwardly after being turned by Messi in the box.

The obvious move was to bring on Bosingwa at right back and move Ivanovic to centre back. Bosingwa did come on but even now it’s not obvious what took place in defence. In my eyes it looked like we lost a right back and gained an extra centre back. When the inevitable Barcelona goal came it was because whoever our right back was supposed to be had disappeared. I doubt there was a Chelsea fan who was surprised at their overall match-equalizing goal but that wasn’t game over by any means.

It wasn’t because under 99% of any other circumstances that event came shortly after from an act of monumental irrationality from John Terry. I won’t harp on about this, we all know what happened and what we saw. I’ll simply leave you with those words. Monumental Irrationality. Inevitably, rattled by this run of events, our heads dropped fractionally and within minutes Barcelona had doubled their on the night lead and taken aggregate lead in the match. Was I alone in thinking this was the end? I doubt it. I bet even SAF  was thinking it was game over, perhaps even  with some glee. Then came the turning point.

With one minute of the added time up, we finally got the ball and with a stunning move that the Barcissists themselves would have been proud of Frank Lampard played the perfect ball to the hard working and deeply impressive Ramires to score a goal of pure Brazilian impish impudence and skill. Although if I’m honest despite my joy, the overriding thought was ‘Oh no, what have you done?’. Once again the Goddess of Hope had reared her head, lifted her skirt showing me the merest glimpse of stocking top to tempt me into believing a result was due.

Our aggregate lead is restored. Football eh? Bloody Hell!

I will admit, my physical health was failing me. As was my mental health so I blocked out the world for the second half. The cowards checklist was complete. Daughter doing homework upstairs. Check. Laptop off. Check. Defibrillator ready. Check. Mobile phone off. Check. I had raised the flag of surrender. I justify this cowardice with the thought that because of my strength I am alive this morning because I’m damn sure one of my internal fuses would have popped had I watched it all ‘live’.

In summary, Barcelona laid siege on us. But the Goddess of Hope could not cast a greater spell than the God of Sweet Revenge. Messi hit the bar from the dubiously awarded penalty and if there was a second turning point then this was it. It was as if the bubble of Barcissism had been finally pricked. After this they went into an endless processing loop of pass and move. Time and again they tried to weave through a defensive wall that stood solid. It was like pounding the granite walls of a castle with snowballs. The more the half went on, the more the frustration crept into the Barcissist game and the more their game went awry. Passes failed to reach targets or were overplayed. Moves broke down. Messi became isolated, dejected and frustrated. And Chelsea showed just how a band of brothers can beat the odds.

Yes, we’d lost a man due to his own moment of insanity, but we’d gained even greater spirit and belief. No Chelsea player was being carried. Some players cleared the ball like a pub player would for the most part but that’s what we needed. Vanilla clearance, not precision clearance. Drogba was replaced by Torres which seemed odd as Didier was revelling in being the ultimate utility player, defending, marauding, harassing, in parts left back, centre back, right back, midfield general and striker. But Torres is a Madrid boy and has a good record of goals versus Barca. Like Meireles joy in putting one over on Benfica, Torres now had the chance to do similar to Barcelona. And boy was that about to come to fruition.

In the last 10  minutes of the game, as The Goddess of Hope battled the God of Sweet Revenge one felt that a moment of magic from Iniesta or any of their players might destroy us as it did at Stamford Bridge on that infamous Ovrebo Night in 2009. But Sweet revenge won in the end. False hope was extinguished. Cometh the hour, Cometh the man and Fernando Torres delivered the killer blow  like a medieval knight slaying the dragon to win the Princess’s heart. We, the fans, are the Princess in this analogy.

If I were doing a Good, Bad and Ugly then the good speaks for itself but honourable mentions for Ramires, Lampard, Drogba, Torres, Ivan, Ashley Cole and Mikel Obi should be made. The Bad would have to be the fact that we lose 4 top players for the final due to bookings, which may have been inevitable and a red, which was unarguable but completely avoidable. I wonder if we can ask for an amnesty on the yellow cards bearing in mind we’re sweating on Cahill and Luiz being fit? Surely UEFA would want the best of both sides on display?

The Ugly would be the mystifying act from JT. His punishment is to miss what in all likelihood will be his last final in this competition. This is a very heavy personal price for him, which makes the act even more mystifying.

Let’s not allow that to detract from the fact that last night we made the seemingly impossible become possible. If ever there was David and Goliath analogy then last night was it.

We haven’t won anything of course so lets not break out the cigars and bubbly just yet. However, in terms of great performances, great comebacks and sheer terror mixed with joy then last night is amongst the greatest ever Champions League nights. Hell, even some of my Manchester United and Arsenal supporting friends have doffed their caps in our direction. Now we sit back, in two finals and just waiting to see who we’ll meet for one of them. As much as I love Jose I don’t want to face Real Madrid because if any team knows how to dig in like us it will be them. For that reason I’ll take Bayern then please.

Keep the Blue Flag Flying High my friends.

Well, this has been some season thus far. Whatever you may think about Chelsea, one thing is certain, we are never dull and it seems we never know when we’re beaten. I had a lot of faith in Andre Villas-Boas. I believed we had a talented young coach at the helm who was ready and willing to take us into the next phase of our most successful period in history. Sadly as the season went on it became obvious that all was not well in the camp. The bright, fast, pass and move football of the early season faded away soon after the QPR defeat.

In the end we seemed unable to decide whether we wanted to change or whether we could change. We became stuck between a rock and a hard place, not quite understanding or having the capability to play the AVB high line and pressing game, and yet unwilling to revert to the power play that had served us so well. We had talk of ‘old guard’ cliques in the club, factions in the dressing room, open hostility between players and management. Of course most of this was the mischief making of professional journalists throwing enough mud and hoping some of it stuck. But the endless negative press and rumours, combined with some pretty dismal performances on the pitch (albiet interspersed with the odd encouraging and battling display) combined to form the perfect storm for AVB. The inevitable happened and for whatever reasons it now looks like it was the right thing to do.

I was one of those who blamed the players, my rationale being that they are professionals who should be able to perform despite their personal feelings for the management team. But in hindsight I have worked in environments where the boss and his or her ideas have been unpopular or misunderstood or the simple skill of good man management has been missing, and I’ve seen the motivation and ambition factors drop amongst the staff. I know this because I’ve been one of them. The staff that is. If your place of work is making you unhappy on a day by day basis, where you feel undervalued, where decisions are no longer transparent, where no rationale is given for decisions that affect you, then it’s hard to even go through the motions, let alone perform anywhere near or above your best. This is a universal truth, whether you’re a lowly office worker or a highly paid professional sportsperson. Looking back I can now see that something was wrong and when the true powers behind the throne see this then tough decisions have to be made.

Luckily we have a good man to shepherd us through the remainder of the season, and boy what a difference Roberto Di Matteo has made. One defeat since he took the helm, an FA Cup final, a Champions League semi-final coming down to a second leg with advantage us, and still a remote chance of 4th spot. Barely 3 months ago we would never have thought it possible, and even if we don’t win a thing I do think it has lifted each and every one of us fans to know that pride in the club is shared with the players, and that idiot fans like me really do not know anything about football. I was wrong. I am happy to have been wrong. To the players and everyone at the club I doubted…….Je suis desole!

And so to this momentous of weeks. Before the Spurs game, and having sat through the rather dismal Wigan and Fulham games I feared the worst. When we fought out a 0-0 draw with them a few weeks back I had thought Spurs had edged the game then, but happily accepted that RDM has one aspect that AVB didn’t have. He’s lucky. Sometimes a little lucky, other times very lucky. But I’d rather have a lucky coach any day than an unlucky one. So, the sheer thrill of a thumping 5-1 win over our close rivals was heartwarming to witness, and above all gives me some ammunition for the inevitable summer banter on holiday with a Spurs supporting friend of mine. And yes, we got a lucky break with the so called ‘ghost’ goal but my thoughts are that we have had enough rotten luck in the past and it’s about time one of those sort of breaks went our way. If Spurs and the media are so worried about it then I’m happy to strike it off and leave the score at 4-1. How’s that for generosity?

A few honourable mentions for some star turns at Wembley start with JT as indomitable as ever, but also to the young pretender, Gary Cahill, who at £7m is looking much like the buy of the season.  Looking back on that semi final every single player put in a shift, but most noteworthy for me was the return of pace, power and confidence. John Mikel Obi, a real marmite player with our fans has been nothing short of Ballack-esque  since RDM showed faith in him, Crazy David (Luiz) has shown exactly what a class signing he is, a true successor to the original floppy  haired centre back Ricardo Carvalho. Ramires is back to his non-stop running best and he’s moving out of the shadows into the spotlight again. When other fans of other teams start to notice you and utter disparaging remarks then things are generally looking good. It means they fear you.

For me the single most edifying sight of that game was the mass evacuation of Spurs fans some 10 minutes before the end of the game. When that happens you know all is well in Chelsea world. If we play like that against Liverpool then the cigars will need to be bought out and the champagne chilled.

And then to the arguable climax of the week, as we welcome back the team we’d probably consider as a bigger nemesis to us than Spurs or Liverpool…or Leeds. Barcelona. Who would have thought just 12 short years ago that this fixture would feature so regularly and so heavily on our Chelsea lives? In a little podcast I contribute to (The Podding Shed… available from www.chelseafcblog.com and iTunes) I commented on the game at Stamford Bridge that I was forced, due to work, to listen en route home to the south coast from Stoke. I listened to the game on the radio (luckily the car had built in DAB) through the gloom of torrential rain and thunder, long the grotty transport backbone of Britain that is the M6, the M42 and the M40 and eventually had to switch off with 10 minutes to go, such was my fear that I would crash the car inadvertently or deliberately should Barcelona score. On arrival home I sat and watched the recording back and maybe I’ll save a fuller review for another post after the return leg, but my chest was puffed out with pride at the magnificent display of defensive containment football.

No English team will beat them by trying to play the pretty stuff (ask Arsenal and Manchester United) and we knew this. So we didn’t try. Our best chance here and out there will be the punchers chance. This week we adopted the football equivalent of the great Muhammed Ali rope-a-dope tactics and delivered a single blow. Not enough for the knockout, but enough to daze the opponent. And they have NO away goal. It was the Rourkes Drift of football as Barca swarmed all over us. I swear at one point I heard JT yell ‘front rank fire…..reload…..second rank fire….reload’ . Yes my friends we recreated the marvellous Zulu in SW6 last night and we need to do it for just 90 more minutes next week. I will probably run the white flag up the pole and hide for that game!

This is the business end of the season and despite the trials and tribulations thus far, we’re fighting on 3 counts and that’s all you can ask. To win things you need to be in them and we’re still there. fighting to the bitter or sweet end.

C’mon you blues!

I write just after the Benfica game at Stamford Bridge and it’s pleasing to see that after the ups and downs we have had this season, we are still in the Champions League.

It’s crunch time in the season for all clubs but more so for Chelsea as we fight on so many fronts to keep our season on track.

We haven’t had it all our way this season but we have been fighting hard recently to rectify that, and Wednesday’s win is a step in the
right direction.

However with this win comes the crunch of so many games in a short space of time. We are used to fighting on many fronts and this season will be no different in that we have the Champions League semi-final, the FA Cup semi-final and an important finish in the Premier League to contend with.

None of these will be easy games but big clubs fight for big trophies and that’s what we will be doing.

These three targets are all achievable if we stick together as a team and work hard for each other. It will be a team game where we all have to share the load over the Easter period and beyond.

There are a just days between games at times and we are going to need all the help in the world from you fans.

The players will approach each game with the aim of winning and we are capable of doing that however the support factor with the 12th man will be very helpful indeed.

The Barcelona Challenge in the Champions League semi-final

The last time we played them, it was full of drama and some superb football. That game had everything including a couple of beautiful goals and we had them where we wanted them but failed to finish them off and paid the price.

We had more claims for penalties than I have ever seen in a game and it was so disappointing when we had to exit the competition. I have a feeling it’s our time to get one over them.

We have played them a few times in the last eight years or so and they are definitely beatable, which is what we will be looking to do. We definitely need you for this one, both home and away.

The Tottenham Challenge in the FA Cup semi-final

The last time we played Spurs at Wembley we lost the Carling Cup Final, so it’s time to get one over them.

They have improved a lot and are a match for anyone these days. In both league games this season the spoils have been shared, however there has to be a winner at Wembley and I know we have enough to beat them. It won’t be easy as they are also determined to beat us but I am sure we can count on your support to make it back to Wembley for yet another FA Cup Final.

Wembley is fast becoming our second home and we love every minute when we play there. Expect some fireworks in this London derby at the home of English football.

The Premier League Challenge

There are six games to go at the time of writing starting after the game against Wigan, yesterday, and before Fulham, on Monday. We need all the points available to finish as high as possible.

Our league finish can determine our season next year and we have to ensure we fight hard to further climb the table. We are capable of winning our last batch of games and I have no doubt we can do.

This part of the season has been referred to as the business end, squeaky bum time, with some big clashes to come and for me it really is crunch time, so come on Chelsea!

Ess

A manager gone. An old boy back. Another old boy back. An FA Cup semi-final place won, and yet another Wembley appearance. A Torres brace. A pulsating late-goal defeat to the title challengers. And a date in Portugal as Britain’s last representatives in the quarter-finals of the Champions League.

Just another uneventful, disappointing season down the Bridge. We pack more drama into a fortnight than most clubs do in a season – hell, in a decade. But I’m not complaining.

I’ve written about this before, but European nights of action-packed passion do feel slightly surreal here in deepest Louisiana. No matter whether you lot back home are at the ground, rammed in your local pub, or just watching on your sofa, at least you are still in the same time zone. It’s a midweek European tie, and it’s dark and (probably) cold and rainy. It feels right.

I on the other hand watched it on my couch (Americanism) in the middle of the afternoon, between the simultaneous distractions of trying to entertain my four-year-old daughter, whilst fighting to figure out how my wife programmes the air-conditioning so my child and I didn’t melt in the 30-degree heat. Yep, I can hear your sympathy from here. But even in brightest, lightest New Orleans, it made me realise that there’s just nothing like a knock-out competition for excitement.

Older readers may remember the uproar when the Football League introduced playoffs. How manager after manager came out saying that it wasn’t fair, you play all season and it you finish third you are there on merit and deserve promotion and blah, blah, blah. And with my cool, rational British head on, they have a point and I agree.

But after eight years in the Land of the Free, I now appreciate the appeal, excitement and the God-damn yeehaa-ness of a gladiatorial fight to the death. “Lose and you go home,” as they say in these parts.

All US sports have a “post season,” with teams playing a regular fixture list then moving onto a knockout phase. The “franchises” with the best records get rewarded in some way (byes, home advantage, easier games, etc), and then play a one-off match, a home-and-away, a best of seven, or whatever. The point is that you meet an opponent and if you lose you are out. It doesn’t matter if you went the whole season undefeated and wiped the floor with everyone up until then.

Even UEFA has recognised the excitement in a head-to-head clash and the continent’s premier club trophy has gone through a number of versions: at one stage the last eight were divided into two groups of four, and we also used to have two group stages to get from 32 teams to 16 to eight. It’s generally accepted Barcelona are the most talented footballing team on the planet right now, but in three hours anything can happen, as Jose and Inter Milan proved (relatively) recently.

Maybe back home we have the best of both worlds. The league is still the Holy Grail, and the best team in the land wins it. No argument. That’s not the same with the FA Cup and Carling Cup, and maybe they provide us with our knockout junkie fix. But nothing compares to a dark, dank night of European glory – on a bright sweltering Southern Louisiana afternoon.

Stephen Rea is the author of the book Finn McCool’s Football Club, a tale of supporting Chelsea from the United States, the formation of a pub football team in New Orleans and the devastating effect of Hurricane Katrina on that city. Visit his site here: www.stephen-rea.com or friend him at www.facebook.com/stevorea

It reminds me of the Ladies’ weekend win, which was another cracking finale! We beat Brighton 3-0 but all the goals came the final 10 minutes, it was a fantastic end to our first competitive game of the campaign.

All six of our new signings were involved and three of them were on the score sheet. Considering our pre-season hasn’t been anything like we imagined, with only two games, one of which was cancelled half-way through, I was pleased with the overall performance.

We dominated the game from start to finish but had to be patient. Dunia Susi headed us in front, Helen Bleazard and Sue Lappin added to the scoresheet as we demolished Brighton towards the end. Prior to that we hit the woodwork four times and their keeper made two good saves. On another day it could have been 5 or 6-0. Mind you, if you said before the game we’d win 3-0, I would have been very happy!

We’ve been drawn away against Doncaster Rovers Belles in the quarter-final of The FA Cup. It will be tough game as their manager John Buckley always organises hard-working sides. But we have good memories of our trip to Donnie last season with a 4-1 win! That was another cracking game.

Anyway, back to the football, because on Tuesday we held a Q&A session with Colne Valley girls. They’re a local side from Staines, where we play, so we invited them down to pick our brains and take part in training. It was good to see them interact with the players and there were a lot of laughs during the Q&A. Once it was over they warmed up with the first-team and took part in some passing drills before we went off to prepare for Sunday’s Continental Cup tie with Lincoln.

We’re looking forward to that game, it will be a tough test ahead of the first FA Women’s Super League clash on Monday 9 April. Claire Rafferty has been given the all clear from her surgeon and has been in full training now for two weeks, so could potentially be back in our squad on Sunday. So, apart from Drew Spence, who has bruised her foot, I will have a full squad to choose from, which is excellent!

And finally, good luck to the youth team on Friday at Old Trafford in their FA Youth Cup semi-final against Man United and again to the men’s first-team against Leicester on Sunday. Up the Blues!

Beardie

Robbie Di Matteo’s Chelsea looked alright-ish on the team sheet, without Bosingwa or Malouda in the starting XI, nor Meireles, not even on the bench due to a perhaps lucky suspension (depends on how much you rate him). The upsetting thing for me was the complete absence of Romeu who should be fully recovered by now. Is this a sign that RDM is going the same way as most other managers by playing the old guard? Like we have said many times before – and by we I mean myself and nearly every Chelsea supporter I know – our youth is our future. Maybe I am too quick to judge. After all, RDM has only had 3 games as Chelsea manager if I’m not wrong (there’s the memory again). Let’s observe.

The match took off as it usually does – pass-pass-pass, a few attacks leading to shots on goal, slowing down, pass-pass-pass – all in all players didn’t look very interested. No surprise there if you’re trailing 3-1 after the away leg and you’re playing against a very attacking team that started off with a much better pace as Chelsea. In fact, this is the strongest Napoli team we have seen in a very long time, who are also in great form. They attacked Chelsea’s goal again and again, but our Caped Crusader… oh wait, he doesn’t have a cape… and not even a mask anymore… well, Petr Cech saved us from the big threats. We have a lot to thank him for tonight.

That was Chelsea in the first half an hour – nothing spectacular. Then in the 29th minute Drogba scores a header from Ramires’ cross. The game picks up pace and Sturridge follows up with a shot but no one is there to tap it in. Nevertheless, we see a totally different game. The minimum requirement however is 2:0. And we got that after half-time when Captain Fantastic netted one. With that score we could have qualified already. But there was 40 minutes left to play, and Napoli were nowhere near backing out. Their goal was coming, and it didn’t take long for Gökhan Inler to pull one back for Napoli. Now we needed not one, but two goals to progress to the next round. Before the match I thought we couldn’t even get a two-goal lead, but now suddenly everything seemed possible. Chelsea responded with a few attacks on goal, so did Napoli, but the decisive moment came when Andrea Dossena handled the ball and we were rewarded with a PELANTY (No idea why people call it that really, would someone like to elaborate?)! The legend that is Frank Lampard took the responsibility to either leave us hanging or get us closer to Champions League glory. Luckily he delivered, and by full time we had three goals from the older generation. How 2006! Pensioners? We could argue they looked reborn.

In extra time Chelsea were the clear leaders – possession was in their favour and their tackles were more successful. The changes RDM made looked a bit dodgy to me, but they proved to be right decisions. First he took off Sturridge and brought in Torres. That took place right after Inler’s goal; therefore, replacing a dangerous striking force with an attacking striker who hasn’t scored in 24 hours did not look like the right decision at the time. After full time RDM brought in Malouda for Mata. Yes, I understand Mata was tired after 95 minutes, and also we can rarely accuse Malouda of conceding us goals, and he may even score one, but what if extra time had led to penalties? Wouldn’t you rather trust Mata to take them? Then he brought in Bosingwa for John Terry. So why not use Cahill who is just as good to start a game as Terry or Luiz? But I don’t know if it was luck or good tactics – somehow it all clicked. No, Torres did not break his barren spell, and Bosingwa did not make a magnificent save, but some of our players got their valuable rest and the substitutes didn’t screw up, so that’s a relief.

Extra time saw us take the winner. The winning goal was scored by none other than the owner of the best-looking behind in football, Branislav Ivanovic. He was actually one of the better players on the pitch tonight and I have nothing but praise to give to him. I hope his wife rewarded him with a steak tonight. His goal brought tears in my eyes, but that didn’t stop me from seeing how the players celebrated. I haven’t seen this much joy among the Chelsea boys in a long time. And Robbie’s celebrations were of course, legendary. Because of that, I am definitely warming up to him. It’s nice to see sparks of unity in the team again.

I would also highlight the performances of Didier Drogba who was bossing the game for a full 120 minutes despite having turned 34 this week, and also David Luiz who had Edinson Cavani in his pocket the whole time. No wonder he had to limp off the pitch. When it comes to Cavani who is one of the Napoli players linked with a move to Chelsea, I am not 100% sure it is a good idea now. He played like Torres – he was fully committed, got in the box a lot, but nothing made him score. Stamford Bridge could be his curse. On the other hand, Torres didn’t have that problem before switching his red shirt with a blue one. Discussion over, let’s carry on. So… mine, as well as many other girls’ favourite David Luiz was voted man of the match by the UEFA homepage. Hope his injury wasn’t very bad.

What else can I add? We weren’t given all the penalties we earned, but on a few occasions we were let off easy. In the end it worked out well because we progressed to the quarter finals.

There was some diving from both ends, Drogba being Chelsea’s main offender and Napoli had quite a few of them. The referee Felix Brych didn’t buy this acting which we can appreciate. Drogba’s diving towards the end of extra time might have made quite a few of us smirk because it’s just so typical of him, but it was also highlighted by haters in the media who had suddenly forgotten Chelsea had miraculously progressed into the Champions League quarter finals and are now the only English team still in the running. What a miracle that was!

Maybe it was just me, but I barely noticed Lavezzi on the pitch. Was he really that invisible? Cavani didn’t have a particularly good game either although he worked hard. I would highlight Aronica who looked a decent player. Not to mention De Sanctis, who made spectacular saves. Bringing in Dossena after Maggio’s early injury did make an impact as he was everywhere, but unfortunately for Napoli he is also to blame for one of the goals. Inler however, who absolutely bossed Napoli’s midfield tonight, compensated this with a beautiful goal. As a team Napoli were hard-working, attacking and enjoyable to watch. On a downside they made too many fouls and injured our boys. For future reference: do not play against an English side with a 3-man defence!

I can’t not mention the home supporters tonight. They were unusually loud and made me proud. Word of mouth claims that Cannavaro had said that they couldn’t hear each other on the pitch because of the noise. The power of fans can be so influential. Keep up the good work, lads!

I felt like we had won the league – that’s how incredible this game was. My heart skipped a ton of beats during the game and neutralised it by beating twice as fast as normally. The league title is clearly over for us, but the Champions League is still a possibility. Maybe this explains why we win 4-1 against a European club with world class talents, but fail to score more than one against most of our English opponents? I can’t analyse that at 6 in the morning so spare me.

Great job by both teams, but in the end Chelsea were the better team and we are the only English team in the Champions League. Now it’s time to start boasting before Arsenal and Manchester United.

Carefree!

Written by Annely

P.S. Words cannot describe how much I hate the rule that forbids players to remove their shirts on the pitch.

To say we are excited is understatement! I know me and the girls are looking forward to the game as it is our first competitive game since October
2011.

There have been many changes over the winter period and a lot of hard work has gone into this season’s preparations on and off the pitch. First of all we released, Frankie Gibbs, Shelby Hills, Naomi Cole, Leanne Champ, Emma Plewa and Becky Jane from the club.  We have signed Sophie Ingle, Katie Sherwood, Tori Williams, Sue Lappin, Helen Bleazard and Dunia Susi. We needed to add strength and depth to squad so we could be in a position to create competition for places and to cope with any injuries or suspensions! I have also brought Aidan Boxall as my new Assistant Manager.

Training has gone really well but the game situation has been very frustrating. We had two friendlies called off with Colchester and Brighton due to the weather, our game against Millwall only lasted an hour due to a freak injury to the now-fully-recovered Dunia Susi. Then with Wales, Ireland and England we lost 10 players to
international duty.

One thing that we have done in pre season is a lot of classroom sessions with the girls where we have had some good interaction as well as a look-a-likes board!  So far the staff have been battered, the best being Dan McLoone as Sergi the meerkat!

After the FA Cup tie against Brighton we host Lincoln in the Continental Cup group stage again at home with a 2pm kick on Sunday 18th March at Staines Town!

I’ll update you next week as to how the Brighton game went and how our preparations are going for the Lincoln game!

Beardie

Which footballers did you admire growing up a kid?

I enjoyed watching George Weah, Abedi Pele and Tony Yeboah. These were great African legends playing in Europe at the time and were all successful. They won trophies with their various clubs for many years. I would watch all their games whenever I had a chance to and they inspired me greatly. I also enjoyed watching Paolo Maldini and he really knew how to defend. I started off as a centre-back so I loved watching defenders and he was one of them.

Have you always had a mentor throughout your career?

Yes, my mentor from my childhood through to his recent passing was Alhaji Sly Tetteh – the man who spotted me and ensured I went on to fulfil my potential. He was my father, brother, mentor and special adviser who made sure I grew up to be a responsible person and footballer. Unfortunately I wasn’t there when he passed away and didn’t get a chance to say goodbye but I am sure he is still mentoring me wherever he is now.

What do you consider to be your greatest footballing achievement?

That is a difficult one but it will have to be all the trophies I have won in my career, both at club level and personally. I have been lucky to play at the highest level for clubs that have been ambitious like Lyon and Chelsea. These clubs have been able to get the best out of me and winning trophies with these clubs have to be the greatest achievements.

On second thoughts, I think I will also add helping Ghana qualify for her first World Cup in 2006. That has to be up there too.

This is your seventh season at Chelsea. Has it flown by?

Yes, I have been here for a long time and I can still remember the first day I signed. I have enjoyed every minute of my time at Chelsea and in London and hope to enjoy more in the coming years. Sometimes I feel sorry for the fans because of all my injuries. I feel they haven’t had me for the seven years I have been here but injuries are part of football and I hope mine are all behind me now.

Would you agree this has been a frustrating season for Chelsea?

It has been frustrating and unfortunately the season hasn’t gone to plan. Football is full of highs and lows and as much as we enjoy the highs of winning trophies we have to work hard to reverse the lows of disappointing results. It’s not been easy but tough times call for tough characters and as long as we keep working hard with Roberto Di Matteo and stick together we will come out victorious. Hard work hasn’t killed anyone yet and that is what we have to do to keep our season going.

You predicted Ghana or Ivory Coast to win the Africa Cup. What happened?

Well the Zambians didn’t read the script at all and were on a different planet at the Nations Cup. They were superb and wanted it more than any other team in my view. They beat both Ghana and Ivory Coast who were my favourites so I wasn’t far off.

To be fair I predicted Ghana, Ivory Coast, Mali and Senegalto be in the last four and only Senegal didn’t make it as they were replaced byZambia who eventually won the trophy. What do I know anyway, but overall it was a good tournament and Zambia evoked the memories of all their players who tragically died in a plane crash 19 years ago.

There will be another African Cup of Nations tournament next year in order to allow CAF to organise the tournament in odd years. This will ensure the tournament does not clash with the World Cup which takes place in even years. The 2013 competition will be held in South Africa and I think all the teams that qualified for this year’s tournament will play against another batch of 16 teams and the winners will go to South Africa 2013. I think that’s how they have organised the qualifiers.

Finally tell us one thing people didn’t know about you…

When I was a kid I used to help my mum bake bread. My mum was a baker and my job after school or on holidays was to paint the baking trays with oil before the bread mix was poured in. I was also the chief taster after each batch was baked and I can tell you I have eaten more bread than any man on earth. I still love bread till this day.

Ess