I don’t hold many memories from my childhood, but the mention of Ossie’s name sets the windmills of my mind in motion as with lachrymose fondness I recall a bygone era. The bell ringing at the end of another school day signalled freedom for my classmates and me. We’d waste no more of our precious time on reading, writing and arithmetic, heading down instead to the grassy wreck by the community centre, throwing our jumpers down for goalposts, each of us ready, willing and able to emulate our heroes.

There was only one person I wanted to be, Peter Osgood. Several enjoyable hours would pass before the gathering gloom of dusk and our overprotective mothers shrieking out our names put an end to proceedings. With grazed shins, grubby hands and a grimy, shiny, happy face I’d make my way home for tea.

Beans on toast, a glass of milk and a plea to my mother that Santa might bring me a royal blue shirt with a white number 9 stitched on the back. Santa didn’t let me down. The shirt was all I needed. Now I really was Peter Osgood. I even perfected his distinct goal celebration, that straddling jump accompanied by a low-slung single punch in the air. Happy days!

As a Chelsea player, Ossie was quite simply the man. He made 380 appearances for the Blues- scoring 150 goals, as well as collecting winners medals in the 1970 FA Cup and 1971 European Cup Winners’ Cup finals. Peter Osgood signed amateur forms for Chelsea in 1964 at the age of 17 before agreeing to a professional contract. He scored twice on his debut against Workington in a fifth-round League Cup tie replay.

Injury deprived Ossie of the opportunity to play in Chelsea’s run to the 1967 FA Cup Final, but he made up for this disappointment three seasons later by scoring in every round of the 1970 competition, including that fabulous diving header in the replay of the final that the Blues won 2-1 at the expense of once mighty Leeds United.

The best goal Peter Osgood ever scored for Chelsea? Take your pick. For me, that sublime volley from just outside the box against Arsenal in an FA Cup quarterfinal tie, which found the back of the net in front of the adoring Shed faithful and earned him BBC’s ‘goal of the season’ for 1972-73 was Ossie at his flamboyant best.

Despite his goal-scoring prowess at club level, Ossie was regularly overlooked when it came to representing England on the international stage; rumour has it that Alf Ramsey disapproved of his playboy lifestyle. More fool Alf, we all knew that Osgood was good.

After a series of disagreements with Chelsea manager Dave Sexton, Ossie, then aged 27, was placed on the transfer list and subsequently sold to Southampton in March 1974 for what was then a club record £275,000. I was gutted. To make matters worse, Chelsea then entered a period of decline that almost resulted in the club going to the wall.

Meanwhile, having won the FA Cup again, this time with the Saints, Ossie had then decided to try his luck in North America with Philadelphia Fury. It wasn’t for him, and when the prodigal son returned to Stamford Bridge during the 1978-79 season to fight the good fight for the Blues, Chelsea were almost a lost cause.

Again, he scored on his debut, but times had changed, the match against Middlesboro ended in a 7-2 defeat. Despite the odd flash of brilliance, it was evident that Ossie’s best days were behind him. Chelsea were relegated, and he played just one game in the Second Division for the Blues before deciding to hang his boots up for good in December 1979.

In retirement he was a man’s man. Always modest in the company of old-school fans, Ossie was fully aware of his mesmerizing legacy without ever once being boastful. He knew the score, but was still often humbled by the reverential respect he commanded, particularly on the occasions he attended our social club to talk about his life and love of the Blues. For every story he told, he’d get one back like mine from someone just like me. Never once did he tire of it.

Wrapped in a vast stillness and silence, Stamford Bridge, swathed in an eerie ethereal glow of security lights, was a strange place to be the night that Ossie passed away. A biting cold wind had pinched and slapped my face as I’d stood alone and paid my own tribute to the man at the impromptu memorial sprawling along the white wall by the main entrance to the ground. For a fleeting moment the ghostly negatives of Docherty’s Diamonds passed into view … those practice games we’d read about that took place at the back of the old Shed, faces from another era, the kings of the King’s Road.

Several months later, on a windswept rainy day, my girlfriend JoJo accompanied me to the Bridge to participate in a memorial service organised by Chelsea for Peter Osgood. The inclement weather had showed no signs of abating as JoJo and I had filed through the Shed End turnstile. If anything the rain had intensified, and as the Coldstream Guards trumpeted the commencement of the service accompanied by a deafening roll of thunder, I wondered if the great man himself might be looking down on proceedings from the watery heavens, that familiar wry smile forming on his face as Neil ‘representing Chelsea Football Club’ Barnett led the eulogies with his own moving homage to the King.

Tribute speeches by Chopper Harris, the Cat Bonneti and a sprightly looking Tommy Docherty, who refused the shelter afforded by Barnett’s umbrella, were warmly applauded, as were those made by a representative from Spital Old Boys (the team Ossie  had played for as a youth), and his immediate family.

The lip-biting, which had valiantly stemmed the flow of tears welling up in my eyes during the first half of the service, failed me as Mathew Harding Stand season ticket holder, the Reverend Martin Swan, commenced the fitting committal of Peter Osgood’s ashes to their final resting place beneath the Shed End penalty spot.

As the band struck up the opening bars to that most moving of hymns, Abide With Me, grown men wept openly and unashamedly, united in grief, struggling to maintain their composure. JoJo gripped my hand, her own eyes watering, swept along on a tide of emotive devotion; she’d met the King once, he’d kissed her on the cheek and praised her beauty calling me a ‘lucky fella’. Yeah, that was the Ossie.

‘Almighty God in your love you turn the darkness of death into the dawn of new life.’ Miraculously, during the prayer that followed, the rain relented and the leaden sky cleared, leaving Stamford Bridge momentarily bathed in brilliant sunshine whilst Ossie’s ashes were interred beneath the Shed End penalty spot. Chopper Harris and current Chelsea and England captain, John Terry, then unveiled a pitch-side plaque as the giant video screens played back footage of the great man in action.

‘Out from the Shed came a rising young star, scoring goals past Pat Jennings from near and from far, and Chelsea won as we knew that they would … and the star of that great team was Peter Osgood. Osgood, Osgood, Osgood, Osgood … Born is the king of Stamford Bridge.’

As I sang, my spine tingled. I smiled trying to remember which I’d heard first, the Christmas Carol, the First Noel, or it’s reincarnation as a Shed terrace classic dedicated to Ossie. It was closure of sorts … another link to my distant childhood broken. I looked at JoJo and then up at the sky, which had darkened malevolently once more, readying itself to unleash another raging torrent.   ‘Blue is the colour, football is the game, we’re altogether and winning is our aim. So cheer us on through the sun and rain, cos Chelsea, Chelsea is our name.’

In a way it was fitting that the service ended with a rendition of the enduring anthem Blue is the Colour. Gone and never to be forgotten, Peter Osgood will always be the King of Stamford Bridge, but come what may, Chelsea are the lifeblood that courses through every true Blue’s veins … always and forever.

‘Come to the Shed and we’ll welcome you, wear your blue and see us through … sing loud and clear till the game is done, sing Chelsea everyone. Oh! Blue is the colour, football is the game, we’re altogether and winning is our aim … so cheer us on through the sun and rain, cos Chelsea … Chelsea is our name.’

For his apparent sins, JT has been pilloried by the curtain-twitching, goody-two-shoes of polite society, heckled by opposing fans and stripped of the England captaincy … risible actions which have only served to further unify the vast majority of Blues fans in their vocal support of both player and Club.

With the injury to Ashley Cole ironically giving Wayne Bridge the opportunity to reassert his claim to the England left-back berth, it’s clear that if differences do exist between Terry and Bridge they need to be resolved swiftly … imagine having our World Cup hopes dashed by a defence that wasn’t on speaking terms.

Of course it’s pure conjecture that Terry and Bridge have a problem with each other, but one things for certain, in the build up to Saturday’s match between the Blues and the Citizens, sadly the football will be taking a back seat.

Speaking as a genuine Chelsea supporter, I was hugely disappointed when Blues cult hero Wayne Bridge was sold to Manchester City for a fee reported to be in the region of £10million. Cynics suggested that £10million was shrewd business for a reserve team player, whilst Chelsea’s critics argued that the scandalous under-utilisation of Bridge since he’d returned to full fitness following serious injury was symptomatic of the problems that can be created when fashioning a squad with a bottomless pit of money.

Ashley Cole is without doubt the finest left-back on the planet, but Wayne Bridge enjoyed a rich-velvety rapport with Blues supporters in much the same way that Joe Cole does now. I’d hoped beyond hope that a solution could have been found to keep Bridge playing regularly at Chelsea, but sadly none was found … I pray to God the same doesn’t happen to Joe Cole, but that’s another story.

When Chelsea and Manchester City take to the field on Saturday, I’ll be cheering the Blues to the rafters but, make no mistake, I’ll also be applauding Wayne Bridge, affording the lad the same respect I always do because, like any returning cult hero, he deserves it.

Signed from Southampton in July 2003 for £7million in a deal which incorporated Graeme Le Saux heading south to the Saints, Bridge, then 22, was the third high-profile summer arrival at Stamford Bridge as new owner Roman Abramovich’s Chelski revolution got underway. With Claudio Ranieri at the helm, he quickly established himself as Chelsea’s first-choice left back and it was during his first season at the club that he attained ‘cult hero’ status with the Blues faithful.

It’s important here to make the distinction between ‘legend’ and ‘cult hero’. Legends are fashioned over time. These are players epitomize the spirit of the Club season in season out. Osgood, Zola and Lampard for example … and yes of course JT. Cult heroes are typically born out of adversity, typically a single flash of genius that turns a game on its head, a moment so glorious it spawns a terrace chant that endures. Dennis Wise scoring in the San Siro, Salomon Kalou crossing the ball in from the left at Anfield and of course Wayne Bridge’s 88^th minute goal at Highbury in the quarter-finals of the 2003-2004 Champions League competition.

Having drawn the first leg 1-1 at Stamford Bridge, Arsenal were the firm favourites to progress to the semifinals. Genial Blues manager, Claudio Ranieri, wilting under the heavy burden of expectation placed on him by Chelsea’s new owner, had already pronounced himself a ‘dead man walking’ and the expected defeat at Highbury could well have been the final nail in his coffin.

In true Chelsea fashion, Ranieri, who had earned himself the entertaining sobriquet of ‘Tinkerman’, kept the same line-up for only the third time that season. When Reyes gave the Gunners the lead, the writing was on the wall. But the Blues had other ideas. Lampard’s equalizer gave Chelsea’s fans renewed hope and with the tie seemingly heading towards extra time, something rather special happened. A moment of pure Chelsea theatre.

‘Follow, follow, follow. There were only two minutes to go. It was Wayne Bridge’s goal that sent us out of control and sent the Arsenal out of Euro … two, three, four’.

Racing towards the Clock End penalty area, where Chelsea’s supporters were gathered, the indefatigable Bridge played a deft one-two with Eidur Gudjohnsen. Receiving the ball back from the Iceland international, Bridgey hammered the ball past Jens Lehman in the Arsenal goal. Cue pandemonium.

With that goal, Wayne Bridge passed into the annals of Chelsea folklore. He might never have played again, but he had already done enough to secure his position as a Blues cult hero.

Sadly, things started to go pear-shaped for Wayne Bridge when in February 2005, during an FA Cup tie with Newcastle United at St James Park, he was stretchered off in agony following a challenge with Alan Shearer that would leave the Chelsea man sidelined for eight months. ‘It was quite serious,’ said Bridge, recalling the gravity of the injury. ‘I broke the fibula which isn’t so bad but the ankle almost came away from the leg. I ripped all the ligaments bar one. It was hanging on by one ligament.’ The only consolation for Bridge came in the shape of a Premier League winner’s medal, for which he had all ready qualified by virtue of his fifteen league appearances during the 2004-2005 campaign.

Chelsea signed Asier del Horno as cover, and by the time he was fit again, Bridge had been marginalized and he was loaned out to Fulham in January 2006. The arrival of Ashley Cole, his main rival for the England left back position, in the summer of 2006 was to further restrict Bridge’s opportunities until Cole himself was injured. Seizing his chance, Bridge briefly made the left back position his own and it became the widely held opinion of many Chelsea supporters that he was a better player than Ashley Cole.

Despite receiving many plaudits for his performances, Ashley Cole’s return to fitness saw manager Jose Mourinho restore the former Arsenal man to left back and Bridge’s Chelsea career was once more in the doldrums. During the 2006-2007 season, further injuries to Cole gave Bridgey the chance to win a brace of cup winners medals. He played in both the 2-1 Carling Cup Final victory over Arsenal at the Millennium Stadium and the 1-0 FA Cup Final defeat of Manchester United at the all-new Wembley.

With both Avram Grant and latterly Phil Scolari preferring Ashley Cole at left back, Wayne Bridge’s international ambitions continued to be dented by a lack of regular first team football. When it came, the offer from Manchester City was too good to refuse and, all things being equal, few Blues fans would begrudge Bridgey the chance to further his ambitions at Eastlands.

Wayne Bridge played a modest 124 games (plus 17 as sub) in a Chelsea career spanning six seasons. He found the net four times for the Blues. I was amongst the privileged few to see him score ‘that’ goal at Highbury which elevated him to the status of cult hero, but it was his first for the Club which had already endeared me to the man we knew as Bridgey.

December 28^th 2003 saw Harry Redknapp bring Portsmouth to Stamford Bridge for what promised to be an afternoon of festive fireworks. In the days when travelling supporters used to be housed in the lower section of the East Stand, Wayne Bridge, being a Southampton lad, had been subjected to a vile torrent of prolonged abuse by the visiting Pompey fans. In the 65^th minute, with the game still evenly poised at 0-0, Bridge burst down the left flank before cutting inside, controlling Geremi’s pass on his chest, and unleashing a left-foot shot which whistled past Pompey’s Dutch keeper Harald Wapenaar into the far corner of the net. Cupping his hand to his ear Bridgey then celebrated his fine strike by scampering along the East Stand touchline much to the chagrin of the visitors from the south coast. Chelsea went onto to win the match 3-0.

Great memories, that’s why, when Saturday comes, I’ll be standing up to show my appreciation of Wayne Bridge and, as for the rest of it … as the fabulous Doris Day once sang, Que sera, sera, whatever will be, will be, the future’s not ours, to see … que sera, sera, what will be, will be.

See you at the game.

Mark Worrall is the author of the cult terrace classics ‘Over Land and Sea’, ‘Blue Murder … Chelsea Till I Die’ and ‘One Man Went to Mow’ and the co-author of ‘Chelsea here Chelsea there’. All titles are available to buy, with savings of up to 50%, at http://www.overlandandsea.net/

Technological developments and money allow past times to be re-captured as never before, and with the media constantly bombarding us with memories of yesteryear, embracing the nostalgia Zeitgeist has never been simpler.

Fans of music and football find it easier to mark the passage of time than most. A tune played at random on your MP3 player, reading an old match-day programme – it can make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up on end. Combine the two and the effects can be considerably more lump-in-the-throat lachrymose than watching Chelsea Old Boys FC playing a West Ham 1980s select side down at Tooting and Mitcham, and then going to see the reformed Sex Pistols treading the Hammersmith Apollo boards in the name of filthy lucre.

I served my Chelsea apprenticeship on the Shed terrace in the punk era. Back then, the Blues were a destitute Second Division side, more feared for the marauding hordes of boot-boys that followed them in large numbers when they travelled away from home than anything remotely resembling the beautiful game they aspired to play on the pitch.

The Clash were my band, and whilst the Pistols may have had Paul Cook and Steve Jones as Chelsea fans in their ranks, they had the infinitely cooler Joe Strummer keeping the Blue Flag flying high.

Editor’s Note: During a drunken scene from Alex Cox’s movie Straight to Hell, you can see Joe Strummer kicking a tin can and calling out the names of footie players such as David Speedle, Pat Nevin, and Kerry Dixon.

Strummer’s untimely death in 2002 ended any remote possibilities of the group re-forming to cash in on the nostalgia craze, but their legacy lives on. And for many people they remain, as the publicity manifesto once read, ‘the only band that matters’.

So anyway, I’m nursing a New Years Eve party hangover in my home office. It’s January 1^st 2009. I’m minding my own business, thinking about this and that … you know the way you do … when two things happen at once … the unmistakable, amphetamine fuelled, three chord chug of ‘White Riot’ by the Clash leaps from the speakers my iPod is connected to, at the same time as my girlfriend pokes her pretty head round the door handing me a football programme she’s found amongst a pile of old magazines and newspapers in the garage.

‘London Calling’ and ‘Rock the Casbah’ may well feature in the top twenty of many peoples all-time-favourite rock track lists, but at the end of the day all the Clash singles come down to ‘White Riot’. It was their first single and it had the viscerally brilliant ‘1977’ on the B-side.

The programme, dated Saturday February 26^th 1977, is for a Second Division match played between Bolton Wanderers and Chelsea at Burnden Park. A top-of-the-table clash, it was my first Blues away game outside the Capital.

I’d celebrated the dawn of 1977 at a new club called the Roxy on Neal Street in Covent Garden. The Clash played, and I was there – a spotty fifteen years old kid having a riot on his own in a self-stenciled T-Shirt proclaiming my allegiance to the Shed Tea Bar. I remember Joe Strummer wearing a Persil white shirt with 1977 writ large across the front. I remember his battered old Fender Telecaster, and as I do so the seething paranoia that is ‘White Riot’ screeches to its arresting end. Start to finish in a fraction over two minutes. Brilliant!

‘White Riot’ was released as a single in March 1977 just a couple of weeks after I’d joined Eddie McCreadie’s Blue and White Army on their crusade north to Bolton. The Reebok Stadium, home to Bolton Wanderers for the past decade or so, is a soulless place. A feckless testament of what can happen when a famous old football club, which once had a true sense of spirit and working-class identity is uprooted from its traditional home and transplanted to an anonymous retail park in a nearby town. Burden Park, the Trotters pre-Reebok residence, was a proper old-school football ground, with a huge uncovered ‘away’ terrace redolent of the North Stand at Stamford Bridge, and one look at the cover of that tatty old programme was enough to bring the memories flooding back in glorious technicolour.

Getting off the grimy football special, one of three organized by the club that day, I recall being prodded and provoked all the way down the Manchester Road by mallet-faced members of the local Constabulary keen to boost their arrest figures and their reputations. Then there was that unmistakable football smell of horse-sh*t and hamburgers pervading the olfactory senses. A leaden sky threatening to unload rain by the bucket-load justified the mass exodus of Blues fans from the uncovered Railway End across the pitch to the Great Lever End, much to the chagrin of the local Old Bill. Resplendent in my Wandsworth Borough Council donkey jacket, red and white bar scarf (the one with the thin green stripes), blue denim bollock stranglers and cherry red Dr Martens boots, I’d stood out like a sore thumb. But there were a lot of sore thumbs in Bolton that day. The atmosphere? You could cut that with a knife. It was more incendiary than any punk concert I’d ever been to. Under heavy manners, that was the Chelsea ‘away’ experience back in 1977.

Chelsea were 2-0 down at half-time. The Blues team comprising John Philips in goal, Gary Locke, Graham Wilkins, Garry Stanley, Steve Wicks, David Hay, Ian Britton, Ray Wilkins, Steve Finnieston, Ray Lewington and Kenny Swain had looked like they would be being displaced at the top of the table by a determined Wanderers side, until Eddie McCreadie’s fire and brimstone sermon during the lemon break changed the course of the match. The Blues stormed back with two goals in three minutes midway through the second half. Jock Finnieston, back in the side after missing the last three games with a depressed cheek fracture, intercepted a shabby Sam Allardyce back pass to score his 18^th goal of the season, and Swain levelled proceedings with his 12^th goal of the campaign. The attendance of 31,600 was Bolton’s biggest league gate of the season, and I for one went home happy.

For Burden Park read Asda now. They don’t make football grounds like that anymore. The synthesized sterile Reebok with its futuristic tubular steel arches, anomalous baize-like pitch and US-style playing of James Brown after the new-fangled Trotters find the net, must have Wanderers icon, Nat Lofthouse (the Lion of Vienna, now a sprightly Octogenarian) choking on his meat and potato pie and chips as he surveys the scene in front of him on his regular visits to watch the club whose colours he famously graced back in the day.

Some new stadiums work. The Emirates par bitter, twisted, green prickly-suited envious example, but the Reebok doesn’t. The one saving grace of this abominable space-age place is the part it plays in the history of Chelsea Football Club. On Saturday April 30th 2005, I was privileged to be in the company of several thousand Blues fans in a crowd of 27,653 who witnessed Frank Lampard rattle in a couple of goals – which granted Chelsea a 2-0 victory, and saw Jose Mourinho’s men crowned Premiership Champions – the league title headed to SW6 for the first time in fifty years. What a glorious day that was. ‘Have you ever seen Chelsea win the league? Yes we have!’ Had he been alive, Joe Strummer would have been delirious.

I repatriated the old programme from 1977 back to the cupboard from whence it had been misplaced, and resisted the temptation to fish out another – opting instead to cue up a few more Clash tunes on my iPod. If Joe hadn’t died, maybe they would have re-formed and given many fans another opportunity to relive their youth, but then it wouldn’t have been the same as it was ‘back in the day’. As for those old-school Chelsea away games, no two were ever the same. Never have been and never will be. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on your point of view, there is one constant that is always guaranteed for followers of the Blues … no matter how much money is flowing through the Stamford Bridge coffers at any given time, Chelsea never seems to lose her propensity to surprise, excite, madden and disappoint. Glorious unpredictability? I’ve loved every minute of it, and looking back over all those years, I wouldn’t want to change a thing. Well not much anyway. Oh go on then, perhaps that John Terry penalty miss in Moscow.

Up the Chels!

Mark Worrall is the author of cult terrace classics ‘Over Land and Sea’, ‘Blue Murder … Chelsea till I die’ and ‘One Man Went to Mow’ and the co-author of ‘Chelsea Here Chelsea There’. Copies are available to buy with a discount of up to 60% and free postage within the UK at http://www.overlandandsea.net/

If only eh?

Tis the season to be jolly tra la la la la la la la la. Yeah! Fair enough … after all we are top of the league and, as we like to remind ourselves having a laugh. Mind you what are we laughing at? The misfortunes of others of course, and let’s face it we have to because if we didn’t we would surely cry tears as big as December cabbages at our own.

Let’s take a light-hearted look at the others first …

Starting with Liverpool.

For many years now the supporters of Liverpool Football Club have taken delight in pouring scorn on our beloved Chelsea. ‘F*ck off Chelsea FC you aint got no history’, is the opening line of their grammatically incorrect ditty. Yeah, but ‘we’re making history not reliving it’, we tell them … diplomatically of course. ‘We’ve won it five times’, they counter, and with rapier-like wit we ask them the simple question, ‘Have you ever seen Gerrard win the league?’ In the vernacular, this form of rhetorical question is most often seen as rhetorical affirmation, where the certainty or obviousness of the answer to a question is expressed by asking another, often humorous, question for which the answer is equally obvious; popular examples include Is the sky blue? Is the Pope Catholic? and Does a bear shit in the woods? In the case of the question ‘Have you ever seen Gerrard win the league?’ the answer is an emphatic, No! Though the Matthew Harding massive word it slightly differently. We are now a tenth of the way into the 21^st Century and Liverpool’s history is in danger of becoming ancient history. No doubt in years to come it will form part of the school curriculum. ‘Today children we will be learning about how the Egyptians built the pyramids, about the first moon landing and, for those of you interested in association football, how Liverpool FC won it five times.’ In Rafa we trust … ho ho ho.

Next up Manchester United.

Whilst Liverpool are hamstrung by a woefully inept manager in Rafael Benitez, United have Sir Alex Ferguson, arguably the greatest manager that ever lived. Fabulous Fergie has won it all and in some style … but boy is he a bad loser. Without the talismanic Cristiano Ronaldo, sold to Real Madrid for a kings ransom, United are like Samson shorn of his locks. When Rooney misfires, they stutter like Gareth Gates on amphetamines, too reliant on the geriatric wing-wizardry of Ryan Giggs and of course Fergie-time … ‘The fourth official has indicated he will add as much time as is necessary for United to score a winner.’

Walking out of Stamford Bridge, disconsolate and frustrated after the 3-3 draw with Everton I, like many others, fully expected United to have reeled Chelsea in by evensong that day … who would’ve thought Villa could win at Old Trafford? What we didn’t know then was that an increasingly ‘injury ravaged’ Red Devils defence was about to develop more holes in it than a large slice of Swiss cheese. Fulham 3 – Manchester United 0 was the pick of last weekends ‘shock results’ topping Avram Grant and Pompey beating Liverpool. I don’t know what made me laugh louder, the result or affable Fools manager Roy Hodgson suggesting that the Cottagers born-again striker Bobby Zamora could soon be knocking on the door of and England place. Imagine waking up to the headline, ‘Zamora hat-trick wins World Cup for England’ … glorious unpredictability on a hallucinogenic scale. With Lenny Peters and Stevie Wonder rumoured to be lining up in United’s back four over the festive period, I’m sure we’ll be having a few more giggles at Fergies expense whilst the snow lays round about, deep and crisp and even.

Then of course there’s Arsenal.

Another team whose followers mask current on-field inadequacies by referring anyone who cares to listen, or indeed has no choice in the matter, to their own esteemed heritage. Those of us fortunate enough to be within the unhallowed confines of the Emirates at Ashburton Grove, or Cashburning Grave as I prefer to call it, on November 29^th were treated to the usual pre-match ditty of ‘sh*t club no history’. As the rain poured down and the goals went in, I looked around the rapidly emptying stadium, at the hoardings that circumvent the ground … you know the ones I mean right? Depicted on them are all ‘the’ Arsenal’s trophies with the years they were won writ large underneath.  The last of these was the FA Cup in 2005 … since then nothing. ‘Five years (well almost) and you’ve won f*ck all’. Back in the day when I was serving my True Blue apprenticeship on the Shed Terrace a victory away at Arsenal was as rare as an Essex virgin … how times have changed. Like many football supporters up and down the land I have long since stopped quaking in my boots, fearful of what might lie ahead when Wenger’s kids fulfil their true potential … we’re still waiting … and waiting … and waiting.

I could go on.

Tottenham Hotspur under the guidance of Harry Redknapp have delusional aspirations of breaking into the top four. Having beaten Wigan Athletic 9-1 at the Lane you can imagine the mood their supporters would have been in for the next home game against relegation haunted Wolves. A Lilywhite pal of mine told me the most popular bet being placed with bookies at the ground that day was Defoe to score first. There’s no such thing as a poor bookmaker … well not in N17. Final score. Tottenham Hotspur 0 – Wolves 1. No, honestly, you couldn’t make it up.

And so the famous CFC.

‘Carefree wherever we maybe’ … too carefree if you ask me. Since that sensational 3-0 victory at the Emirates, Chelsea’s form has dipped alarmingly. Thus far in December, the Blues playing record in all competitions reads played 6, won 1, drawn 3 and lost 2. We may ridicule Manchester United’s defensive frailties … ho ho ho … go on treat yourself it is funny after-all … but if you analyse Chelsea’s results across the season to date you will note that the Blues have conceded more goals in December than in all the preceding months put together!

There are lies, dammed lies and statistics, but as any keen student of the Blues will tell you the portents don’t look good. Fergie has a tailor made excuse for United’s shabby defensive performances … injuries … whilst in SW6 there are doom-mongers who will tell you they’ve seen it all before … last year in fact. I was truly appalled by the booing from sections of our home support following the 3-3 draw with Everton, it reminded me of the season of goodwill last year when things started to go slightly pear-shaped for former World Cup Winning manager Big Phil Scolari … remember him?

There’s nothing like a spot of déjà vu to focus the mind and brittle the bones, especially where Chelsea are concerned. After the Everton match Cech and manager Carlo Ancelotti gave the same explantion for the set-piece goals. We defended too deep. Cech wasn’t allowed space. It was a collective mistake. From where we were sat, high up on the Gate 17 gantry, it appeared to be more a case of the defenders having lost faith in the keeper’s ability to come and to dominate. They retreated and made mistakes. It’s a recurring problem caused by a recurring problem, Chelsea fail to cope with corners, free-kicks and long throws. ‘We thought the problem with the set-plays was resolved after Aston Villa,’ Ancelotti said in reference to the defeat at Villa Park in October when both goals came from corners. ‘We have to return to work. Sometimes when you have confidence you lose some attention and opponents take advantage’.

‘Top of the league we’re having a laugh.’

‘Petr Cech reminds me more and more of Dracula these days,’ quipped Uncle Tom Broderick as the ref blew for time to conclude the Everton debacle. ‘He was afraid of crosses as well wasn’t he.’ John Terry’s ruddy face looked like a smacked arse as he stormed off the pitch. His programme notes stated: ‘Requirement today: a win. The result is paramount’. With the exception of the scrappy 2-1 win over bottom of the league Pompey, it would appear that JT’s words are falling on deaf ears on the training ground, in the changing room and on the pitch. One win in six in December, there’s nothing unusual in that in recent times for Chelsea Football Club who clearly dislike like this time of year. This time last season Big Phil guided the Blues to the following sequence of results DDWDDL and we all know what happened to him.

I remember walking out of the Emirates after that emphatic 3-0 win over the Gunners saying to Uncle Tom that ‘the title was ours to lose’. Those words have yet to come back to haunt me … but God only knows how. It’s been another eventful year in the colourful history of Chelsea Football Club and, despite the recent malaise, we remain top of the league and having a laugh. I’m sure Carlo will have the lads out on the practice pitches at Cobham on Christmas Day morning practicing how to defend set-pieces … so there will be absolutely nothing to worry about when we play Birmingham City on Boxing Day.

In Carlo we trust (and, failing that, there’s always Ray Wilkins).

You know that!

Merry Christmas and a Happy Blue Year.

Mark Worrall is the author of cult terrace classics ‘Over Land and Sea’, ‘Blue Murder … Chelsea till I die’ and ‘One Man Went to Mow’ and the co-author of ‘Chelsea Here Chelsea There’. Copies are available to buy with a discount of up to 60% and free postage within the UK at www.overlandandsea.net

The Blues had lost the match 2-1 in a pulsating encounter, snatching defeat from the jaws of victory after Scott Minto had given travelling fans some early cheer with a fabulous 2^nd minute goal. Player-manager Ruud Gullit, making his first appearance of the season, had been Chelsea’s best player, but the enterprising Trotters had dispatched their illustrious visitors with a gung-ho performance which had left those who’d bothered making the trip from London cursing the same-old-same-old. As maddening as mercury, that was Chelsea for you.

‘Where were you when you were shit?’ is a popular taunt levied at 21^st Century Blues fans. ‘How much time have you got?’ I am prone to reply. The League Cup ha ha ha. Any Chelsea masochist of a certain age will regale you with tales of woe involving calamitous defeats at footballing outposts such as Crewe, Scunthorpe, Scarborough and Wigan … losing a days wages and a nights sleep following the Blues on the road to nowhere was a character-forming part of my life.

6am, I’m bolt upright, turning up the volume on the radio … shocked by the lead item on the news which is confirming an earlier report that Chelsea Football Club vice-chairman, Matthew Harding had been killed in a helicopter crash. Multi-millionaire Mr Harding, 42, pilot Michael Goss, 38, businessmen Tony Burridge, 39, and Raymond Deane, 43, and magazine journalist John Bauldie, 47, died instantly when the Twin Squirrel aircraft crashed into farmland near Middlewich, Cheshire, and burst into flames as it was carrying the party home from a Chelsea v Bolton cup tie.

I was stunned.

It wasn’t as if Matthew was a personal friend or anything like that. I’d met him several times, but this had been well before he’d answered Ken Bates’ plea for financial assistance. An ex-girlfriend had been in charge of the directors’ dining room at Benfield’s, the city-based re-insurance group of which Matthew was chairman and as such I used to get to go to various company knees-ups. As we all know a shared love of Chelsea transcends traditional barriers of class, not that Matthew had any airs and graces. Office-boy made good, rags to riches and all that … good luck to him. Matthew welcomed a chin-wag with a like minded Chelsea individual, and here was a man who’d first stood on the Shed as an eight-year old boy and followed them ever since … home and away.

When the phone calls started as word got around that Matthew Harding had been tragically killed, I couldn’t help thinking that if he hadn’t been the millionaire businessman that he was, then he would still have been alive having journeyed to and from Burnden Park by more conventional means than helicopter. Come the end of the day, flowers, scarves, and notes of condolence festooned the Stamford Bridge gates as supporters gathered to share in their grief. The uninformed passerby might have thought a famous Chelsea footballer from yesteryear had died as opposed to the Club vice-chairman. But then the uninformed passerby could never have known just what Matthew Harding had come to mean to the supporters of Chelsea Football Club … and that was the reason I’d been stunned by the news at my waking hour.

Ken Bates famously bought Chelsea for £1, and some fans are of the opinion that by the time he sold out to Roman Abramovich he’d transformed the club into one of the biggest names in European football. Others have suggested that old Greybeard took over a club with debts of £600,000 and increased them so spectacularly that it became a case of selling Chelsea to the Russian billionaire or watching them go to the wall in cataclysmic fashion. Bates’ obsession with creating Chelsea Village almost bankrupted the club long before Mr A came on the scene and this precipitated Matthew Harding’s formal involvement during the 1993-94 season. Ken Bates later recalled the telephone conversation which launched their unlikely and some might say unholy alliance. “Ken Bates here,” he said. “I understand you’re richer than I am, so we’d better get together.”

Harding, immediately weighed Chelsea in with £5million to fund the construction of a new North Stand, and also lent the club more than twice that amount to purchase players. But there was no question of the younger man adopting the traditional boardroom values so beloved of Mr Bates. To the best of my knowledge I never saw Ken Bates wearing a Chelsea replica kit, or drinking with supporters in The Imperial public house on the Kings Road before a game. Who can forget Matthew turning up at the unveiling of Gianluca Vialli as a Blues player clutching a brand new home shirt already emblazoned with his name and number? “I’m just a fan who’s done rather well,” he once said, and the Chelsea massive took him to their hearts.

Bates’ priority was to build a futuristic stadium, Harding wanted a swashbuckling team to match the heroes of his youth. The two men were on a collision course which eventually resulted in Bates banning Harding from the directors’ box, citing “behaviour related to your heavy drinking both home and away”. The letter sent to Harding contained a P.S. which read: “Please ensure that your `Bates Out’ banner in the Main Stand does not obscure the valuable advertisement panels”. “Never mind,” replied Matthew, “I’ll go and sit in the North Stand. I presume that’s alright with you. After all, I did pay for it.”

The ban galvanised popular support for Harding and by now a large majority of fans wanted him to take over. A well-known spokesman for the Chelsea Independent Supporters’ Association crystalised opinion at the time saying, “Bates appears to think it is his club, while Harding’s attitude is that it is our club.” (The current market-leading Chelsea fanzine, cfcuk whose origins can be traced back to the CISA, originally came to life as Matthew Harding’s Blue and White Army and to this very day it still carries the strap-line published in memory of Matthew Harding on every single page.)

The bitter public feud rumbled on with Harding pledging that Chelsea fans would be given a vote in the future of the club if he won his power battle with Bates. “If I become chairman I intend to break some moulds, and one plan I have is to give club members the right to re-elect me as chairman. Chelsea have more than 25,000 members and they are the emotional shareholders of the club. I would go to them every summer and I’ll promise you this now. If there was a majority voting against me I would stand down instantly.” Harding’s words stirred the True Blue soul … ‘Matthew Harding’s Blue and White Army’, the chant would echo around the Bridge on match-days a testament to the faith supporters had in him.

In December 1995, the club announced after a board meeting that the pair would lunch and sit together at the home Premiership match against Newcastle. That implied Bates had agreed to lift the ban on Harding taking his seat in the directors’ box and using the boardroom facilities, though at the time both men refused to comment. By October 1996, Matthew Harding had committed £26.5 million to Chelsea Football Club and the irony was that both he and Bates were on the way to realising their own idealistic dreams. Had he lived, Matthew would have seen the Blues win the FA Cup at the end of the season and his journey to glory would have been complete.

Saturday October 26th 1996
Chelsea are at home to arch-rivals Spurs. The game itself was destined to be a sideshow from the minute Ken Bates took the decision was taken not to postpone it and, as wakes go, it turned into quite a knees-up-mother-Brown party. Wreaths from both clubs were laid in the centre circle before the match, with a pint of Guinness for Harding standing on the centre spot; Dennis Wise and Steve Clarke, team captain and club captain respectively, carried out a floral message reading “Matthew RIP” and presented it in front of the newly-named Matthew Harding Stand.

As the Chelsea players linked hands and stood, like the rest of us in the ground, waiting for referee Roger Dilkes to blow his whistle to signal the start of a minutes silence I wondered if this moment of reflection would be tarnished by ignorant morons as they usually were. Chelsea v Tottenham? It’s never been a marriage made in heaven now has it? From the first second to the last, you could have heard a pin drop. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. That Chelsea fans stood silent was not unexpected, that Spurs fans followed suite only added to Matthew Harding’s legend. Every supporter inside Stamford Bridge no matter what their allegiance recognised a part of themselves in Matthew … a supporter first and foremost … one of us.

Matthew Harding’s favourite expression was “Enjoy the game!” and boy would he have enjoyed this one. Chelsea took Spurs apart with a 3-1 victory, the goals coming from Ruud Gullit, David Lee and Roberto Di Matteo. “Everyone in the stadium today participated in a special way,” Gullit said in his post-match interview, “including the Tottenham supporters, and on behalf of the team and the staff I want to thank them. Everybody’s just happy about the way they played, and it was a perfect tribute to Matthew.”

Matthew Harding was only involved in the running of Chelsea Football Club for three years or so which makes it all the more remarkable that he could have made such an impression on Blues fans in such a short space of time. That he did is a testimony to the man and his principals. Chelsea supporter first and foremost, businessman second … a true man of the people, born on the Shed.

Matthew Charles Harding … born Haywards Heath, Sussex 26 December 1953 …Vice-Chairman, Chelsea Football Club 1995- 96 … died 22 October 1996 … we salute you. 

Mark Worrall is the author of cult terrace classics ‘Over Land and Sea’, ‘Blue Murder … Chelsea till I die’ and ‘One Man Went to Mow’ and the co-author of ‘Chelsea Here Chelsea There. Copies are available to buy with a discount of up to 50% and free postage within the UK at http://www.overlandandsea.net/

The world of music is no different although there seem to be more categories available for those who want to deify their heroes. There are a multitude of ‘rock gods’ and ’soul legends’, but within the comparatively new genre of dance music there are only a handful of true icons and Chelsea fan Paul Oakenfold is without doubt one of them.

Not content with redefining the role of the DJ in the mid 1980s and helping to shape rave culture, Oakie has produced and re-mixed some of the biggest artists on planet earth. His innovative, unit-shifting, work with the Happy Mondays, U2, New Order, Madonna and the Stone Roses brought a wider audience to his own prolific output most notably the global hit Starry Eyed Surprise which was famously used in the Diet Coke TV commercial. Paul was also the man behind the theme music for Big Brother. Early in his career, whilst working as an A&R man, Oakenfold discovered Will Smith and Salt ‘n’ Pepa, and he also promoted the Beastie Boys and Run DMC. Add being boss of his own record label, Perfecto, and scoring music for movies to an already impressive looking CV and you begin to wonder how Paul, who now lives in Los Angeles, has ever found the time to sleep, let alone follow the fortunes of Chelsea Football Club, the team he has supported since childhood.

It’s a long way from LA to Fulham Broadway.
Yeah! I’ve lived in LA for seven years, but fortunately there is a Chelsea scene here. There’s a supporters club, the Pacific Coast Blues. They started out in San Diego I think. Steve Jones of the Sex Pistols, he’s well into it. I speak to Jonesy all the time. It’s funny when I lived in the UK, I used to plan all my DJ gigs around Chelsea games. So when the team played away at Leicester let’s say, then I’d be playing out in Leicester the night before and go to the match the next day. I’d always have my eye in the fixture list when I was planning gigs and tours. I have Chelsea TV here so I can catch up on the games even if my work means I can’t see them live.

Your family originated  from Highbury, how did you come to support Chelsea?
That’s right, the family home was a 15 minute walk from Arsenal’s ground. Every one was a Gooner, including my Dad. It’s strange. I was taken to a Chelsea game by my Dad because he couldn’t get tickets to see the Arsenal. With a lot of kids, the first game you get taken to, you pick one of the sides, and that becomes the team you support.

Who were the Blues playing?
Stoke City. I can’t remember exactly when or what the score was, I was too young. But that was it, it was Chelsea for me. I was sold on them from that day. I’d hate to be a Gooner. What I remember about it wasn’t necessarily the match (laughs) but the whole thing that came with it. Going to that game was a big eye-opener for me. We moved to Thornton Heath when I was still quite young so I grew up in south London. Thornton Heath is Crystal Palace territory, and I got beaten up a few times by Palace fans.

Who were your first Chelsea heroes?
When I was going with my Dad it was Peter Osgood. I liked the glamour associated with going to Chelsea as well. I remember our old house had an outside toilet, it wasn’t really somewhere that you’d be proud to be living, so coming down to see Chelsea, the FA Cup winners, the kings of the King’s Road, well it was a different world. I was really attracted to all that. Yeah! Peter Osgood, David Webb, (starts singing) Ian Ian Hutchinson.

Who was your favourite Chelsea player in your youth?
When I got a bit older I started going to the Bridge on my own and doing the away matches. Bristol City, Leeds United, Newcastle. Chelsea travelled, I travelled. That’s when I really got into it and started watching how the players played the game. My Mum and Dad didn’t even know I was going to the away games. I would just go out and then get in at maybe 10-o-clock at night and not tell them that I’d gone to a match. They would’ve probably stopped me if they’d found out. It was about this time Ray Wilkins got into the team. Ray really stood out for me. He played a different style of football, you could see he had real talent. Wilkins’ running off the ball, movement and passing were amazing. It was a shame the Chelsea side he came into was in decline and ended up getting relegated. I was disappointed when he eventually left for Manchester United, but I still followed his career. Shame his brother Graham wasn’t much good though. (laughs) The best and worst I’ve seen in the Blue of Chelsea, and they’re brothers.

What about more recently?
Zola. Zola was a Plan B player. He made things happen. A man of his word, what a shame he’d already pledged his future to Cagliari when Abramovich arrived. Chelsea might have won the league in Roman’s first season.

Were you there when Wise went up to lift the FA Cup in 1997?
Yeah! The Middlesboro game. There’s a funny story to this. We all met up at Stamford Bridge for a few drinks and then got a coach up to Wembley. There was about forty of us, we were well up for it. I thought I’d better go to the toilet before kick off, but I got held up in a queue. You know what happened next don’t you? After waiting all those years to have something to cheer about, I missed Di Matteo’s goal. So when people ask me about that game, I always say we only won 1-0.

What do you make of the problems at Chelsea last season?
Scolari! (laughs) All I can say about Scolari is that when Stevie Clarke left Chelsea for West Ham, things took a turn for the worse. He didn’t know what to do. I don’t really know yet how good a manager Zola is, but Clarke proved himself as a coach over a long period of time at Chelsea and he’ll be a big part of the reason West Ham are doing well again. He should never have been allowed to leave. Maybe he’ll come back one day. Maybe with Zola, but I’d like Mourinho to come back to Stamford Bridge if Hiddink doesn’t stay. Scolari might have won the World Cup but he didn’t know how to manage in the Premier League.

Were you a big fan of Jose Mourinho?
Jose Mourinho was the best. I really started to enjoy everything about Chelsea again when he came to Stamford Bridge. It was electric, I don’t care what some people say, Chelsea were so exciting to watch. The team, the players, the belief. I loved every minute of it. 

What’s the most memorable Chelsea game you have attended?
That’s a tough one. There are two games that really stick out in my memory. When we done Barcelona 4-2 in the Champions League in March 2005 at Stamford Bridge and knocked them out on aggregate, that was special.  Chelsea looked unbeatable under Mourinho at that time. When John Terry got our last goal with a header the place went mental. What a night! The other one has to be the FA Cup tie with Liverpool at the Bridge back in 1997. There’s been a few dramatic games with Liverpool that I’ve seen, but that one was amazing. 2-0 down at half time, we were on our way out. I dunno what Ruud Gullit said at half-time but it worked. 4-2 we won. Zola’s goal, our second, was one of the best I’ve ever seen. I knew we’d win the cup after that performance.

Is there anything you miss about the old days?
No not really. We won fcuk all in the old days. As a kid I remember standing on the Shed having done most of my pocket money getting in and then being asked to put money in a bucket to save the Club. What I will say is that I think it’s a great shame that a lot of the people who used to come to Chelsea when I first started going have been priced out of the game. They never got the payback when it all came good.

Chelsea Village plc!
Yeah! I’d been a season ticket for ten or twelve years by then. We were in the West Stand I think. There were quite a few people from the music business. Alan McGee from Creation Records, people like that. But then they started promoting the corporate side of it in that area. We didn’t like it. We asked to move, and we got told that if we let our seats go then we would have to go on the waiting list the same as everyone else. Fair enough, but there was no trade off. When I moved to LA, that was it, there was no point paying out all that money to sit somewhere I didn’t want to sit when I did have the chance to come over for a game.

Is there any player you would have liked Chelsea to sign?
Well I can tell you where I think we went wrong this season, and it’s a shame really because the other players were in place, but if we’d got Robinho things might have worked out differently for Scolari. Having said that, it still doesn’t mean he would have had a Plan B. There’s a lesson to be learned there though. We need people at Chelsea who can make transfers like that happen, especially as there are other clubs with wealthy owners who are willing to pay big money to get the players they want. I do understand Abramovich not wanting to spend more money or overspend without getting a return. At the end of the day he’s running a business.

How would you sum up your love for the Blues?
I flew from Los Angeles to Moscow for a game of football, it cost me thousands and thousands of dollars and of course like the old days I’d planned my work around watching Chelsea. That’s love isn’t it?

Paul was interviewed by Mark Worrall, who is one of the authors of “Chelsea There Chelsea Here”. Copies pre-signed by cover star and Blues legend Kerry Dixon are available to order at http://www.overlandandsea.net/ postage is FREE to all UK customers.

During my formative years as a Blues supporter, I’d take my place on the crumbling old Shed Terrace and look on in angst as Chelsea huffed and puffed and toiled in vain to achieve any modicum of success, a mediocre Second Division side with as many problems off the field as on it. Relegation to the old Third Division had been on the agenda, but the unlikely combination of an outspoken Chairman in Ken Bates, and a mild-mannered manager in Johnny Neal, turned the Clubs fortunes around.

In 1984, after an absence of five years, Chelsea returned to the top flight … but not for long. In 1988, the Blues dropped through the First Division trapdoor and whilst the record-breaking season that followed culminated in the Club winning the Second Division title, there was, in truth, very little to cheer about as Chairman Bates continued his battle to save the Bridge.

1989/90, back in the big time, the Blues finished a creditable 5^th. But several seasons of mid-table mediocrity beckoned. Managers came and went. Hollins, Campbell and Porterfield all fell foul of old Captain Birdseye Bates, the latter, in January 1993, gained the dubious distinction of being the first manager to be sacked by a Premier League Club.

The Blues had been tipped to do well during the inaugural season of the new competition, but by the end of the Christmas period they were hovering above the relegation places. Enough was enough for Bates. Former Southend United manager, Stamford Bridge legend David Webb, who was selling mountain bikes at the time, was entrusted with the task of preserving Chelsea’s top-flight status something he duly did and, as the season drew to a close, many Blues fans scratched their heads in wonderment at what might lie ahead.

The answer was Glenn Hoddle and, as it transpired, 1993/94 was to be a defining season in the history of Chelsea Football Club.

Why? You might ask.

Nothing magical happened on the field of play; the Blues once more flirted maddeningly with relegation before finishing an underwhelming 14^th and, though the pilgrimage from Stamford Bridge to Wembley in the FA Cup was a sweet one, the final itself was desperately disappointing with Chelsea swept away by a rampant Manchester United side on their way to a league and cup double.

The answer comes in two parts.

Firstly, the appointment of Hoddle itself set off a chain reaction of events that would eventually lead to Mr Abramovich buying Chelsea Football Club from Mr Bates. Secondly, the final game of the season at Stamford Bridge, though sadly no-one knew it at the time, would be the last played in front of the old Shed End.

The appointment of Hoddle as player-manager was a welcome shot-in-the-arm for Blues fans tired of the inflexibility of Chelsea’s style of play. Out went 4-4-2 and in came the midfield diamond. The only trouble was the squad that Hoddle had inherited wasn’t exactly geared up for playing the enterprising ’sexy’ football he had his heart set on … that would come slightly later with the signing of Ruud Gullit.

Chelsea began the season with a home fixture against nouveau-riche Blackburn Rovers, taking to the field in a brand new Umbro strip that bore computer company Commodore’s Amiga logo which would feature on the club’s shirts from 1993 until 1995. Significantly, this was the first season when squad numbers were introduced and Glenn Hoddle came in at number 20.

A crowd of over 29,000 expectant souls convened at the Bridge to see what the maestro could muster from his troops and, for the first 20 minutes or so, they watched enraptured as a delightful display of possession football ensued. New signing Gavin Peacock and Dennis Wise instantly colluded with the gaffers game plan, whilst Frank Sinclair and Erland Johnsen looked composed at the back.

The Blues went ahead early in the second half when Peacock capped his debut by heading Wise’s cross past Bobby Mimms … happy days … but Blackburn’s combination of pace and power had Chelsea increasingly on the defensive and, with Chelsea’s left flank continually exposed, it was no surprise when the visitors equalized. Eleven minutes from time Mike Newell scored the winner for Rovers and we traipsed out of the Bridge bemused and dejected. Chelsea (4-1-3-2): Dimitri Kharine; Steve Clarke, Frank Sinclair, Erland Johnsen, Andy Dow (David Lee, 81 min); Glenn Hoddle; Gavin Peacock, Denis Wise, Mal Donaghy; Tony ‘hee haw’ Cascarino, John Spencer (Robert Fleck, 70 min). Sub not used: Kevin Hitchcock.

My depression didn’t last too long though as news filtered through that ‘the’ Arsenal, playing in front of a newly refurbished North Bank, had lost 3-0 at home to Coventry City. Ridiculously, all three City goals were scored by journeyman, pie-loving Scouser, Mickey Quinn. Media pundits immediately suggested Arsenal should sign the lardy striker as a foil for Ian Wright. Sadly for all concerned, bar Gunners fans that is, the club eventually bought Dennis Bergkamp.

The Blues season stuttered and spluttered along unconvincingly though, this being Chelsea, there was always likely to be a dose of glorious unpredictability to be found somewhere along the way. In this case it was the 1-0 home and away Premier League victories over Manchester United in which Gavin Peacock scored the winner on both occasions.

The first of these victories came in September at Stamford Bridge and a couple of weeks later the Blues defeated Liverpool 1-0 … was this the turning point? The answer was a resounding NO! Incredibly, Chelsea went on a stunning 11 match winless streak in the league that saw them plunge into the relegation zone at Christmas.

Hoddle had signed diminutive striker Mark Stein from Stoke City for £1.5 million in a bid to stop the rot but, despite the little fella scoring against Southampton at the Dell on Boxing Day, the pressure was mounting on the manager as the Blues lost 3-1. Thankfully, lady luck at last smiled on Chelsea and in the very next game Stein scored again for Chelsea in a 1-0 victory over high-flying (no honest they really were back then) Newcastle United. Steino was in the groove and on what was a record-breaking run of nine goals in consecutive games. It wasn’t all sweetness and light but Chelsea were on the road to recovery.

Perhaps the most entertaining game of Chelsea’s season came on February 26^th when the Blues entertained Spurs at Stamford Bridge. A sparse crowd of just under 17,000 watched as the visitors raced into a 2-0 lead with goals from Sedgley and Dozzell only for the jam to be taken out of the crowing cockerels donuts as Donaghy, Stein and Spencer hit back to make the score 3-2 to Chelsea at the lemon break. Under the bar, the Blues Russian stopper Dimitri Kharine was in inspired form making a series of world-class saves from sick-note Anderton, Scott, Gray and Campbell. Penalties settled the game. Andy Gray leveled the match from the spot on 71 minutes, but then failed to find the net when Kharine brought down Ronny Rosenthal 10 minutes later. Mark Stein settled matters with a penalty of his own in injury time. 4-3 to the Chels! It was livelier than usual in the Fulham Road that evening.

By the time the business end of the season came around Chelsea were safe, but the drama was far from over. At the top Manchester United won the title by a country mile, at the bottom it was a different story. May 7^th 1994 saw Chelsea host Sheffield United. To beat the drop, the Blades had to win, or at least draw, and hope that Ipswich Town or Everton lost.

A crowd of just over 21,000, including a gang of United fans dressed in Arab regalia, were at the Bridge to see if they could do it. By fielding the team likely to play at Wembley in the FA Cup Final the following weekend, Chelsea avoided any possible accusations that they might take things easy against desperate opponents. Twice United had the lead, indeed at half-time they were several places above the relegation zone whilst Mike Walker’s Everton had looked doomed as they’d trailed Wimbledon 2-0 at home.

As it happened, the Toffees rallied and saved themselves by scoring three goals whilst Sheffield United suffered late heartbreak as that man Mark Stein, out injured for ten weeks and wanting to prove himself fit for Wembley, found himself on the money leveling the game at 2-2 in the 76^th minute, before scoring a last minute winner. With just 30 seconds left, Dennis Wise centered and substitute Hoddle, finding himself in what he later called the ‘nose-bleed area’, headed the ball on for Stein to volley home the goal that severed United’s grip on the Premiership.

“It is one of those unbelievable moments in football but they happen,” said Blades manager Dave Bassett of his club’s relegation. “When you play Russian roulette, you sometimes get the bullet.”

Game over! Football can be a cruel game as Blues fans know oh too well.

It’s a crying shame that there was no grand celebratory farewell to the Shed, I’m sure there would have been had we known Blaster Bates’ intentions. Later that month Ken sent the bulldozers in and the famous old terrace was demolished and with that a large part of my youth was gone forever.

Mark Worrall is the author of the cult terrace classics Over Land and Sea, Blue Murder and One Man Went to Mow and the co-author of Chelsea here Chelsea there which is published on August 25^th.  Buy on line with free UK postage and save up to 50% on these titles at www.overlandandsea.net

In 1856 when Thomas Burberry opened his first clothing shop in Basingstoke, he could never have imagined that 150 years later his legendary check pattern, initially introduced as a lining to the gabardine trench coats worn by British officers serving in the Great War, would become synonymous with Chav culture following its haughty apprenticeship on the terraces of football grounds the length and breadth of our green and pleasant land. Old Tommy boy would be rocking and rolling in his grave if he could have seen how his iconic Burberry check trenchie, once favoured by nobility and stars of the silver screen alike, had transmogrified itself into the de-rigueur outerwear of the well heeled ‘90s football Casual addicted to expensive designer labels.

To add further insult, the degree of exclusivity that came with pricing clobber out of the reach of most mortals was erased almost overnight when the Burberry fashion house introduced affordable accessories like scarves and baseball caps, the latter becoming the headgear of choice for sartorially aware hooligans and their wannabe counterparts in search of an identity. The counterfeiters had a field day. Did you catch any of those CCTV ‘Binge Drinking Britain’ BBC documentaries from a couple of years ago? I’ll wager an old three-penny bit that the sovereign-ringed stars of the show that you saw retching, reeling and ricocheting off the walls into the arms of the local constabulary would have had some vestige of Burberry check about their persona. By the time the brand woke up to the problem with its UK image, the damage had already been done, but did anyone in the know really care? No, because the terrace trendsetters had already moved on.

From the mid ‘60s, through the ‘70s and ‘80s, in fact right up until the day that old Captain Birdseye Bates tore it down, the Shed terrace had been one of the most sternly critical catwalks in the country. The Mods, Skins and Punks that clambered up its concrete steps and congregated by the old white wall or the tea bar had an exhaustive eye for detail. In the early days it was all about the cut of the cloth, the number of buttons, the width of the tie and the style of the hair. Being part of a youth-cult was a 24 hours-a-day lifestyle choice, and those old-school Caesars of Stamford Bridge would rather have died than fallen behind in the race to be hip.

Chroniclers of style more-often-than-not pinpoint the eminent rise of the label obsessed football Casual to the fag end of Punk Rock and the well-documented European sorties of supporters of Liverpool FC, whose scally element would return home clad in the finest Italian and French sportswear to be had … sometimes literally, and followers of Scotland’s prominent team of that period, Aberdeen FC. I recall a slightly different story. Several years earlier, the Rose Hill Soul Patrol, a likeable bunch of slightly older, wedge-haired North Surrey lads, very much into the look modelled by David Bowie circa Young Americans, could be seen strutting their stuff on the West Stand Benches wearing expensive looking bowling shirts, pleated pegged trousers and beef-roll loafers, a sharp looking contrast to the donkey-jacketed, baggy-jeans wearing away fans who’d congregate on the adjacent North Stand terrace and look on like the rest of us with a mixture of shock and awe. When the jazz-funk loving Rose Hill Soul Patrol boys attended a match, they had no time to return home to get changed for a big night out. By default, the ‘smart-casual’ look required to gain admission to favoured haunts such as the Chuckwagon, Cagney’s, Crackers and Mr Terry’s suddenly found a new admiring and envious audience.

If the true origins of the football Casual remain mired in regional debate, one thing is certain. The onset of the Thacherite era heralded the dawn of label mania. Chemise Lacoste, Sergio Tacchini, Gabbici and Ellesse, the names trip off the tongue now. As Saturday approached, true arbiters of terrace style would be making their ‘what-to-wear’ decisions. That reassuringly expensive Cerruti polo-shirt maybe, those new Kappa tracksuit bottoms, and then would it be the Diadora Borg Elite or Adidas Forest Hill trainers that made it onto the plates of meat. Whatever the choice, no matter how many Embassy Regal you smoked or bottles of Holsten Pils you drank … you honestly believed you were fleet enough of foot to evade capture by fat sweaty DM-shoed coppers should you be found to be chanting ‘Chelsea!’ in a manner deemed likely to cause a breach of the peace. If you’re bored during the summer, why not take an adrenalin-fuelled trip down early ‘80s memory lane and check out Danny Dyer’s apparel in Nick Love’s recent film The Business. Were those Fila shorts really as tight as that? Believe it. If you don’t, then take a glimpse at a few early pictures of Blues legend Kerry Dixon kitted out in bollock strangling Le Coq Sportif and you’ll soon realise why our wives and girlfriends of the day started expressing an interest in coming to the occasional match.

My own personal love affair with ‘dressing up’ for football began around this time with my first Pringle sweater, a blue and white diamond affair stolen to order by a light fingered friend, that I regularly wore over a white Lyle & Scott roll-neck. Fiorucci jeans or a nice pair of Lois cords, short enough in the leg to expose Persil-white socks, complemented the look, and my feet were regularly encased in a pair of snide almost-but-not-quite Gucci loafers … concessions had to be made in those days as the meagre contents of my wage packet dramatically failed to cope with this fabulous new wallet-bursting affectation. Impoverished I may have been, but I stopped short of popping down to Portobello market and buying a roll of iron-on Lacoste crocodiles and a box of two-bob three-button shirts to iron them on to like certain enterprising larrikins I knew at that time.

In line with the economic boom, and a full year before Harry Enfield began urging people to look at his wad whilst roaring ‘loadsamoney’, the football fashion stakes had been upped significantly. That wonderful day out for the Full Members Cup Final against Manchester City back in 1986 saw plenty of Chelsea boys cavorting down Wembley Way clad in a dazzling array of designer gear ranging from Aquascutum to Armani, Gucci to Gaultier, Ralph Lauren to Dolce & Gabbana and Versace. All you needed to complement the look was one of those discreet 5p sized Chelsea pin-badges with the lion rampant … oh and while I’m reminiscing … what about that sensational Speedie hat-trick? Happy days!

The only trouble with the majority of these garments was the fact that despite their punitive cost, they tended to be flimsily assembled. No matter how much you earned, a pulled thread on a jumper or a jacket that had set you back the best part of a carpet was going to hurt. There was a definite gap in the market for clothes that were equally stylish, but slightly more hardwearing and able to cope with the vagaries of our eccentric climate … enter Stone Island. ‘Stoney’, was the diffusion brand of CP Company which had started out life as the Anglo-American sounding Chester Perry way back in 1974. Under the umbrella of the Italian manufacturer Sportswear SPA, Stone Island, the brainchild of Massimo Osti, a graphic artist from Bologna with an interest in both sailing and militaria, was conceived. Already fabled for the durability of its knitwear and jackets, Sportswear SPA poured money into material research and developed fabrics that not only looked good, but were durable and easily able to withstand the rigours and rough and tumble of terrace life as the fans who patronised the label soon realised.

What set Stone Island apart from the competition was its distinctive compass logo woven into a rectangular badge and buttoned with militaristic precision on the upper left arm. Another trip to Wembley, this time in 1994 to witness the demoralising defeat by Manchester United, was made memorable by the sight of numerous Stoney clad Chels singing ‘Knees Up Mother Brown’ in the pouring rain at the end of the 90 minutes … fantastic! The following season Chelsea participated in the European Cup Winners Cup. With an infamous reputation that was far from angelic, the continental police were often over zealous in their methods of policing our supporters. FC Bruges away was a prime case in point. The Belgian plod, acting on information from their English counterparts that right-wing political groups had infiltrated Chelsea’s support and were hell-bent on causing trouble, were on the lookout for troublemakers. The Stone Island compass was incorrectly perceived to be the insignia of one of these groups, Combat 18, and as a result a large number of bemused and frustrated Stone Island wearing Chelsea boys found themselves detained and deported despite the fact they had tickets for the game and had been impeccably well behaved. Another fabled story tells how the police were mistakenly led to believe that the Stone Island badge was in fact a medal, handed out by the top boys within the firms for outstanding acts of hooliganism!

Hoddle may not have won the FA Cup for us in 1994, but he brought in Ruud Gullit … who brought in Gianluca Vialli … who had a penchant for those exceptional formal shirts that had two buttons at the neck and a cutaway collar … which just happened to create an exceptionally smart look when worn under a crew necked Stone Island sweater, although you had to buy your Stoney one size larger to facilitate this. When the Stone Island flagship store eventually opened in Beak Street, Soho it offered a near religious experience for those who took the brand seriously. As with Burberry, Stone Island rapidly moved on from cult status to achieve critical mass. The clothes became more affordable, Osti left and was replaced as designer in chief by Paul Harvey, and for a time, particularly when the Oasis boys were swaggering around onstage in various odd looking Stoney creations it looked like the end of the road for the brands credibility. When I saw Ant & Dec presenting their pop show CD UK wearing Stone Island sweaters with the badge removed, a prerequisite to gain admission to some provincial pubs these days, my own collection of Stoney was consigned for a while to the back of the wardrobe. Harvey however, put together some great new collections, confounding the critics, me included, and Stone Island pulled through.

Nowadays, thanks in part to another of Nick Love’s films, the excellent John King novel based Football Factory, on any given match-day, in any given town, you’ll see the familiar compass logo in abundance. Click around on eBay and you’ll find a proliferation of enamel badges amalgamating the compass with the crest of just about every football club in Britain … someone recently was even auctioning a pair of ski’s bearing the Stone Island motif. Stone Island, or Clone Island? With all this exposure, not to mention Preston from the Ordinary Boys and Mike Skinner of The Streets swathing themselves in Stone Island, can the brand continue to hold its head high? Time will only tell. As for me, I’ve got several pieces that still look as good as the day I bought them … and more importantly I still love wearing them. If the compass logo is getting too ubiquitous for you, then why not return to the source and put down a deposit on a limited edition CP Company Mille Miglia jacket … a mere snip at £675. Having said that, not too far up the road from Bologna, in the medieval hamlet of Masagno, another Italian sportswear company have been busy building on a similar heritage in recent years. Boasting a range of clothes designed to meet the requirements of Third Millennium man, the impressively named Paul & Shark are throwing down the gauntlet to their Stone Island countrymen. My swanky Typhoon 20,000 jacket is repellent to the pressure exerted by 20,000 mm of water … just the job if I encounter any water cannon toting riot police on my travels away with the Chels in Europe next season.

What price brand loyalty then? At the end of the day, if you can be bothered, there are enough labels out there to create your own style. Follow the leader, be part of the pack … or stand out from the crowd and do your own thing. What do you fancy? Maybe you’re just happy to wear your replica Chelsea Adidas shirt with pride, there’s nothing wrong in that. Personal choice, or peer group pressure? Give me a break. Whatever your point-of-view, just remember there will always be fashion disasters whichever side of the fence you sit on, and be thankful that the scandalously dreadful Chelsea Collection that accompanied the arrival of Master Bates’ despised CFC lion logo back in 1986 has, along with said lion, been consigned to the dustbin of recent history.

Mark Worrall is the author of cult terrace classic ‘Over Land and Sea’ and Blue Murder ‘Chelsea Till I Die’ his latest book, ‘One Man Went To Mow’, and the forthcoming ‘Chelsea There, Chelsea Here’ will be published in just a few weeks. For further information and the opportunity to purchase signed books visit www.overlandandsea.net

As we’d basked in the glorious sunshine that bathed Stamford Bridge on the opening day of the season witnessing a Deco inspired Chelsea take Pompey to the Fulham branch of Sketchley’s, there was talk of Big Phil Scolari masterminding an unprecedented assault on the four major trophies. Robbed of the services of Michael Essien when the Ghana international ruptured an anterior cruciate ligament while on duty with his country, and with the campaign barely a month old, Chelsea and Big Phil were soon in trouble. It hadn’t taken the Blues smarter opponents long to figure out that Big Phil only knew one way to play football. Relying on his full-backs to create width, instead of Cafu and Roberto Carlos, Big Phil had Jose Bosingwa and Ashley Cole marauding forward allowing a five-man midfield to dominate through the middle. Without Michael Essien though, Chelsea looked less forceful in the middle of the park and in October a Xabi Alonso goal ended a marvelous 86-game unbeaten home league record and put Liverpool three points clear at the top of the Barclays Premier League.

As winter drew in, Deco flattered to deceive, his form dipped in line with the falling temperature. Lacking creativity, the Blues also looked increasingly unsure of themselves defensively and many began to ponder the sanity of the Stamford Bridge mandarins who’d allowed coaching guru and Chelsea legend Steve Clarke leave the Club to join new West Ham manager and fellow legend, Franco Zola, at Upton Park.

The Blues stuttered through November. A convincing Champions League defeat away to Roma was followed by a dramatic penalty shoot-out loss against mighty Burnley in the Carling Cup and an eminently forgettable month ended with another home defeat, this time in the league at the hands of Arsenal. Forget winning four trophies … we just wanted to see Chelsea win a game! Christmas came and went, and the New Year saw the Blues continue to struggle on all fronts but at least there was the good old FA Cup.

6000 Shrimpers came to town and saw League One minnows Southend United stun the Blues at the Bridge with a stoppage-time equaliser to earn a deserved third-round replay. There were rumblings of discontent emanating from the home dressing room and serious questions being asked about Mr Scolari’s ability to do his job.

It was to get worse before it got better.

A bunch of dispirited individuals masquerading as Chelsea Football Club then went to Old Trafford and had an absolute nightmare losing 3-0 to a bemused looking Manchester United side who clearly thought it was still Christmas. Steve Tilson, Southend United’s manager, must have rubbed his hands with glee at the prospect of Chelsea coming to Roots Hall a couple of days after such a desperate performance.

An hour or so before kick off, a thick blanket of fog enveloped the Essex coastline blanketing the rickety old stadium and forcing the referee to call-off the match. Miraculously, the fog vanished as swiftly as it had arrived and the game was back on. It didn’t take Tilson’s men too long to suss out Big Phil’s zonal marking tactics and Chelsea’s inability to defend corners was exposed as early as the 16^th minute when Barrett gave the Shrimpers the lead. Chants of “you’re getting sacked in the morning” rang out around Roots Hall, with Scolari looking less than impressed at his team’s efforts. Cometh the hour cometh Michael Ballack, Salamon Kalou, Nicolas Anelka and Frank Lampard. Chelsea roared back defiantly to win 4-1 and temporarily silence the critics. Travelling Blues fans whilst jubilant at the result had been saddened at the sight of Joe Cole limping off the pitch in the 76^th minute. Perhaps he’d come back too early from the niggling ankle injury that had dogged him during the first part of the season. Whatever the case, Joe had played his last competitive game of the campaign.

The Blues prepared for their fourth-round tie with Ipswich Town in quite remarkable fashion coming from behind to beat Stoke City 2-1 with two late late goals. Substitute Juliano Belletti equalised in the 87th minute and Super Frank then grabbed an unlikely winner in stoppage-time to cap his 400th appearance for the club in style and relieve some of the pressure building up on his beleaguered boss. The following weekend Chelsea earned a place in the fifth round of the FA Cup thanks to a double from Michael Ballack and a terrific 35-yard free-kick from Lampard, goals which were good enough to see off the Tractor Boys. The 3-1 victory wasn’t all plain sailing though, as the Blues continued inability to defend at set-pieces cost them yet again when Alex Bruce had leveled matters before the break.

February ah February. On the first day of the month, Liverpool rolled Chelsea over at Anfield, and as snowy blizzards engulfed the country, the natives of the Bridge, huddled under their duvets, began growing ever restless. ‘You don’t know what you’re doing’, was the despicable cry from some Blues fans who’d chose to chide the manager rather than encourage the team as they’d played out a turgid 0-0 home draw with the toothless Tigers of Hull City. Two days later Scolari was sacked.

Statistics indicate that Ray ‘the crab’ Wilkins, installed as temporary manager following the sacking of Scolari, is Chelsea’s most successful coach. His phenomenal record of played one, won one, is unlikely ever to be surpassed in the modern era. Mind you, at one point in this solitary game, it hadn’t looked too clever for old frog-eyes Ray. In the 69^th minute of the Blues 5^th Round FA Cup tie at Vicarage Road, a former Hungarian goat-herder by the name of Tamas Priskin gave Watford a shock 1-0 lead. Fortunately for Ray and the rest of the travelling Blue and White Army, Chelsea’s surprise package of the season, Nicolas Anelka, responded with a brisk hat-trick which stung the Hornets into submission and the Blues were through to the quarter-finals.

Enter Guus Hiddink. Thanks to Mr Abramovich’s long standing friendship with the old Dutch Master, Chelsea were able to hand the managerial reins over to someone who clearly did know what he was doing and the transformation in the Blues fortunes were as swift as they were remarkable. Despite the transfer window having long since closed, Chelsea found themselves with two brand new world-class players in their ranks. Step forward Didier Drogba, who’d been sulking ever since the Special One had left, and the enigmatic Florent Malouda. The Blues brushed aside the paltry threat of Coventry City at the Ricoh Arena and marched into their third FA Cup semi-final in four years making it five wins from five matches since Hiddink’s arrival. ‘Chelsea are back,’ we’d be hollering from Stamford Bridge to Wembley as we kept the Blue Flag flying high.

Arsenal it was who would provide Chelsea with their first Premier League opponents in this seasons competition and the Gunners livelier than usual fans made the tube journey from central London to Wembley a highly entertaining one with their innovative anti-Spurs chants, the best of these being the fabulous, ‘He’s got a twitch, he’s got a twitch, Harry Redknapp he’s got a twitch. How’d he get it? I don’t know. How’d it get it? I don’t care, all I know is Harry’s got a twitch.’ The Gooners soon had the jam taken out of their collective donuts though because, for want of a more refined word, the side they’d come to cheer on were crap! In fact they reminded me of the way Chelsea had played before Uncle Guus showed up at the Bridge. Despite the Gunners taking the lead, it was that man Didier Drogba who gave Arsene Wenger one more reason to regret his failure to spend the £100,000 it would have cost to bring the Ivorian to Arsenal from Le Mans way back in 1998. The Drog scored the late winner that would bring Chelsea back to Wembley for the FA Cup Final on May 30^th.

Despite Chelsea having to take to the field in their change strip of yellow, Wembley will be a sea of Blue and White on cup final day in what promises to be, off the pitch at any rate, one of the friendliest finals in years. Hopefully, what transpires on the pitch will be more of a spectacle than the two dour 0-0 draws played out between the teams in the Premier League this season. The Toffees reached the final despite failing to score in open-play against Manchester United and will prove difficult opponents to break down once more with the FA Cup and the prestige that goes with winning it at stake.

Along with the Gooners, ‘Harry’s got a twitch’, our own, ‘He’s half a boy and half a girl, Torres Torres. He looks just like a transvestite, Torres Torres’, one of the seasons most entertaining terrace ditty’s has to be the ‘Sock robbers, sock robbers, sock robbers,’ chant that Liverpool fans sang at Goodison Park the night the Toffees dumped the Reds out of the FA Cup. As they sang, they’d bombarded the Bullens Road touchline with rolled-up balls of footwear in attempt to taunt Evertonians about their proposed move to a stadium in Kirkby. Apparently, the residents of Kirkby are sometimes derided as ’sock-robbers,’ a deliciously cruel reference to the way that burglars from the area allegedly put socks over their hands to avoid leaving behind finger-prints, and another trophy-less campaign had left Liverpool fans with little else to do than dream up stunts to taunt neighbouring Evertonians.

A swashbuckling Blues victory over the ‘Sock Robbers’ will be a fitting way to round off Guus Hiddink’s all too brief stint as manager. Man of the match? That’s easy. Florent Malouda … this is Chelsea after all. Glorious unpredictability? You couldn’t make it up!

See you at the game.

Mark Worrall is the author of cult terrace classics ‘Over Land and Sea’, ‘Blue Murder’ and ‘One Man Went to Mow’ and the co-author of forthcoming Blues title, ‘Chelsea here Chelsea there’. You can save up to 30% on these titles when ordering on line at http://www.overlandandsea.net/

Are there any players you would like to see gracing the Stamford Bridge pitch in the Blue of Chelsea?
Money no object? Yeah! I’d have to say Cristiano Ronaldo and Lionel Messi. I know you can’t have everything, but those two stand out head and shoulders above the rest. As much as I hate to say it, because he’s a Manchester United player, Ronaldo is an exceptional. He creates goals, he scores goals and he’s fantastic to watch.

Let’s hope he signs for Real Madrid then in the summer, it will be one less thing for Chelsea fans to worry about when we play United next season. Going back to the start of this campaign there was plenty of enthusiasm amongst Blues fans when Big Phil Scolari became manager; what was your take on his appointment?
I remember looking at his track record as an international manager and thinking, yes he can do the job. Personally, taking Avram Grant out of the equation, I would have preferred Jose Mourinho to have stayed on. I was a huge Mourinho fan. It was disappointing, a shame and everything else that he had to go, Grant simply wasn’t the right man and so when Scolari came in the majority of people thought, well he’s won the World Cup as Brazil manager, so he can bring success to Chelsea.
I have to say though, right from the start I had some reservations. He hadn’t been involved in club football for a lengthy period of time, and speaking from a cricketing perspective I can assure you that there is a massive difference between the day-to-day management of a County side and having responsibility for an international team.

Do you think that if Chelsea had managed to sign Robinho, the player Scolari had indentified as his number one priority, things might have turned out differently for the Blues this season?
That’s almost impossible to answer. Would he have fitted in at Stamford Bridge? I don’t know. Whom would he have played instead of? It’s difficult to say. It’s funny, but one thing I have always been curious about is why would a top club paying top wages let a top player leave?
What were Real Madrid’s reasons for letting Robinho go? The transfer fee? I’m not so sure. Look how many times he’s been subbed when he’s played for City this season. It’s interesting isn’t it? It’s like when Barcelona let Petit go and Deco as well come to think of it. Chelsea paid big money for those two, with little or no return on the investment. Unless a club is offered a ridiculous sum of money for a quality player, why would they let him go? I think that managers continually assess their squads and from time to time will see something in a player that makes them think they might be past their best. Time to cash in.

Despite all the press speculation, the speed with which Scolari services were dispensed with took most people by surprise. Guus Hiddink’s swift appointment, albeit in a temporary managerial role, has been an unqualified success, what do you attribute this to?
Well I have this information second hand, but the way it was explained to me was that the players fitness levels weren’t good enough under Scolari and team affairs were also poorly organised. Personally speaking, when it comes down to fitness levels, if an individual doesn’t feel they are conditioned well enough they should be motivated enough to do extra work off their own back so in that case I would blame the individual. A new manager or coach coming into a club should be expected to have the ability and experience to reignite the desire and passion in his players that the previous man in charge failed to do. It’s clear that Hiddink has addressed both these areas, and the results are there for everyone to see.

If Guus Hiddink does depart at the end of the season, who would you like to see in the managerial hot-seat at the Bridge?
Well there’s been a lot of speculation linking Carlo Ancelotti with the job, but I read recently that he’d prefer to stay at AC Milan. If I were Mr Abramovich, I’d go and get Mourinho back, but then again I don’t know what happened behind the scenes between those two, so maybe that’s not an option. Who would I bring in? (laughs) Go and get Sir Alex Ferguson to upset Man United.
Seriously though, there are plenty of people you can talk about who potentially could do the job, but if they are coming from abroad you just don’t know how well they will get on in the English Premier League, and the problem at Chelsea seems to be that if you don’t deliver results almost straight away, you get moved on pretty sharpish.
Didier Deschamps was another manager being touted as a possible recently but he’s just signed a deal to take over at Marseille, so it’s difficult to see an obvious choice. Whoever it is has got to speak good English, the spine of Chelsea’s side is English and of course it’s important for the supporters to be able to relate to the manager and for him to be able to get his point if view across.

As a professional sportsman who has played for, and captained, his country, what is your opinion on the way certain Chelsea players reacted during last weeks controversial Champions League match with Barcelona at Stamford Bridge?
Personally speaking, I can fully understand it because of the passion, the emotion and what it meant to them. I’m convinced they felt they had been cheated out of it, I was there at the game myself and witnessed one bad refereeing decision after another. Sometimes you know it’s just an error and you have to accept that, but then other times things might look a little dodgy. He had a shocking game and in my book has to be the worst referee that has ever been allowed to officiate a game as important as that.
So yes, I can understand it all … but on the other hand, you still have to keep your emotions in check and by that I mean you should be able to express yourself and your frustrations, but never lose control of your emotions. As soon as you do that you are then asking for trouble. Unfortunately, Drogba lost his composure and of course Ballack, who I like as a player, did so as well. In football you can scream and shout at a referee, but you won’t get him to change his decision. Even though you might want to shoot the fella, you know you can’t.  If these players had behaved differently, there would perhaps have been a lot more sympathy shown towards Chelsea.
I can understand the Ballack incident more than what Drogba did. Ballack’s was an immediate response to what he believed should have been a penalty. Obviously he was frustrated with what had gone on before with the referee failing to give penalty decisions Chelsea’s way, so I can understand his behaviour even though I believe he shouldn’t have gone as strong as he did.
The Drogba thing, well that’s completely different. He’d been off the field for some time, I wouldn’t say it was pre-meditated but it did seem an amazing reaction you know. Chelsea played with passion and commitment but certain players went a little bit over the top, and it looks like they’re going to be punished unfortunately.

How do you view Didier Drogba these days? He’s been a divisive figure amongst Chelsea’s match-going supporters this season. Do you think that following this latest controversial incident he should be sold at the end of this campaign?
I’d keep him. I think he’s a very valuable player. I know he let himself down, his team-mates down and the supporters down in Moscow, and of course there have been a couple of incidents this season, but at the same time that’s the way he is and I think it actually adds something to the way he plays. Yes he does frustrate both home and away fans; he can lie on the floor a little bit too long or go to ground too easy but I’d keep him because he’s a special player who can continue to score important goals for the Club.

It’s been reported in the press that several of the older players in the Chelsea squad, Drogba included, maybe sold at the end of the season to finance the purchase of younger stars, do you think this is a wise policy?
It’s my opinion that if you are still good enough to play at the highest level then you should play. It’s not uncommon for players who retain their fitness and ambition to play into their mid 30s and beyond. From my experience in cricket, I can tell you what works best is to drip-feed younger players into a team over a period of time. If you get rid of all the senior players at once, then it leaves a huge hole.
The way Chelsea are bringing on the likes of Mancienne and Di Santo is good, it’s all about getting the balance right between youth and experience. As far as bringing new players in, well a club like Chelsea will always be linked with the games top players, but you should only bring a player in who is going to strengthen the squad. Thinking about it, we’ve got Joe Cole to come back, that will be the same as having a top class signing and could have the same effect on the teams fortunes as Michael Essien did when he came back from injury this year.

Which Chelsea players do you think are indispensible to the current squad?
Well you have to go through that spine I was talking about earlier. Cech, because I do believe he is back to his best, Ashley Cole, John Terry obviously, Lampard, Essien and I would still have to say Drogba.

The season’s nearly over but we have a day out at Wembley to look forward to at the end of this month. What’s your prediction for the FA Cup Final?
I don’t think it’s going to be a fantastic game to watch unless of course Chelsea get an early goal, something which didn’t happen in the league game with Everton at Stamford Bridge the other week. I think David Moyes has done brilliantly with a limited squad and a limited budget. He’s certainly made the most of what he’s got there and he organises the back line superbly. They came down to Chelsea and got a point.
In the Cup Final, I think it will be important for Chelsea to try and get an early goal which will mean Everton have to come forward more and this will open the game up, otherwise it could end up a bit like their semi-final with Man U where they just sit back and soak it all up and go for the penalty shoot-out.
My prediction? Yes, I think Chelsea will get an early goal and go on to win the match 2-0 … but don’t bet your mortgage on that though.

Mark Worrall is the author of cult terrace classics ‘Over Land and Sea’ and ‘Blue Murder … Chelsea till I die’, his new book ‘One Man Went to Mow’ is out now. Copies are available to buy with a discount of up to 30% and free postage within the UK at www.overlandandsea.net