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.gate17.co.uk/

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In the wake of CFC’s recent, unsuccessful, attempt to secure the support required to initiate a transfer of the freehold of Stamford Bridge from the CPO, for me, the recent news that the club were re-examining the merits of the Battersea Power Station site as a suitable venue for a new stadium curiously served to pour oil on waters that had become troubled by the controversy associated with the club’s unscrupulous approach to the whole buy-back process.

I recall back in 2003, when Mr Abramovich arrived in SW6, Battersea, along with Earls Court, was soon being touted as a possible site for a new stadium. In 2006, Peter Kenyon boldly outlined CFC’s plans to become the Number 1 club in the world by 2014 – at the same time the BPS site was dismissed as being “too small”. Five years on, with Kenyon long gone, the grand plan for world domination is somewhat behind schedule although Mr Kenyon’s unpopular apprentice Ronald Gourlay, now tasked with running “the business” and developing “the brand” would claim otherwise. As for Battersea Power Station, with a firm of developers and architects now looking at the feasibility of moving to the iconic site – Blues fans have once more been ruminating over what the future might hold – a welcome distraction from debates about the whys and wherefores of the football team’s abject run of form in recent weeks.

Whether or not CFC choose to make a new “offer” to the 12,000 plus CPO shareholders at the January AGM remains to be seen, one things for certain though, unless Gourlay et-al are both blind and stupid (don’t rule out this possibility), I’d expect their approach to the whole process to be markedly different with open consultation being the order of the day. Staying at, and redeveloping, Stamford Bridge remains an option and Hammersmith and Fulham Council have recently vowed to “work closely” with the club, reaffirming their desire to see CFC remain in the borough – and again we wait with baited breath to see what might transpire from this collaboration.

If, and it’s a big if, the freehold transfer process is initiated and runs smoothly – what then? Battersea Power Station? Who fancies that? Well I’d put my hand up immediately, you see I’ve been fascinated with the place since October 26th 1973. Smiffy tells me that on this date Chelsea beat Norwich City 3-0 at Stamford Bridge with a Baldwin brace and a goal from Stevie Kember – I’ll take his word for it. I wasn’t allowed to go to watch the Blues on my own back then on account of a) being too young and b) being displaced from SW6 by 180 odd miles. Nah, October 26th 1973 holds a place in my memory because it was the day that Riggo, the lad who lived across the road, came and knocked for me, excitedly proclaiming that his elder brother, Big Riggo, had just bought the new Who album, Quadrophenia, and we should go and listen to it whilst he was out with his girlfriend.

As with most lads growing up in the 70s, there were only three things that mattered in life – football, music and girls – though depending on age, not in that particular order. As a 12 years old Chelsea fan, I was about to witness the slide of my team into what was by-and-large a dreadful decade of decay. The kings of the Kings Road dethroned. As a 12 years old music fan on the other hand, things were markedly different and the influence of Big Riggo’s burgeoning record collection would smooth my transition to being a teenager and assist in my pursuit of Roxette the pneumatically developing daughter of my old Ma’s hairdresser who was in the year above me at school.

Riggo cued side one of Quadrophenia up on his impressive looking Dynatron RG88 Radiogram and we sat down side by side on the sofa to studiously examine the gatefold sleeve that the double album, the Who’s second rock opera, was packaged in as the opening bars of “I am the Sea” enveloped us. The iPod generation have no idea what they’ve missed out on – gatefold sleeves, crackly vinyl – having a look on the run out groove to see if you had a George Peckham ‘porky prime cut’ – ah I’m getting all dewy-eyed just thinking about it.

Anyway back to the record sleeve and, more importantly, the thick 44 page booklet adorned with lyrics, storyline and grainy black-and-white photographs. Whilst Riggo assaulted an imaginary drum-kit Keith Moon-style, I slowly turned the pages – page 3 – eyes drawn to the sight of a local Battersea Mod kid, Terry “Chad” Kennett ( the Jimmy Cooper character brilliantly portrayed by Blues fan Phil Daniels in the 1979 film adaptation of the album) riding a scooter along Queenstown Road, SW8 with the four chimney stacks of a coal-fired power station belching smoke into the twilight sky forming a prominent backdrop.

From that moment, I was hooked – nay obsessed with the place, researching its curious history for various school projects, which included a meticulous study of the work of Sir Giles Gilbert Scott the architect whom in 1930 had been commissioned by the London Power Company to beautify the concept. Unbeknown to Scott at the time, he had already secured his place in British legend by designing the truly iconic red telephone box for the GPO in 1924.

Quadrophenia remained a huge part of the soundtrack to my life despite Big Riggo’s musical tastes trending fabulously into punk at a time when I was finally old enough a) to be allowed to go to football on my own and b) to be considered boyfriend material by the fragrant peroxide princess Roxette. Being a part of the nascent punk scene, the mantra ‘never trust a hippy’ was writ large in my teenaged subconscious and the story I am about to share has been kept a secret from polite society for the past 34 years.

It’s 4.50pm, Saturday December 2nd 1977 and I’m following Roxette down the concrete steps at the back of the old Shed Terrace. I’ve got mischief in mind and it’s nothing to do with the fishnet-stockinged Roxette or the fact that Chelsea have just lost 1-0 to Everton. The match had been a shocker. Toffees striker, Bob Latchford scored what turned out to be the winner early on in the second-half as the oft-ridiculously-coiffured, Ian Britton, had failed to equalise late on from the penalty spot. Britton side-footed wide of George Wood’s goal, the ball eventually rebounding back onto the pitch after striking one of the pale-blue, three-wheeled, AC Invacars which were allowed to park on the track in front of the terrace. The defeat came on the back of a 6-2 cuffing away at Citeh, a game incidentally in which Britton had managed to score from the spot, and Blues gaffer Ken Shellito would be picking up his P45 while there was still plenty of chocolate left in my Advent Calendar.

Twenty minutes later, looking out from the top-deck of the bus as we traversed Chelsea Bridge, I shook my head in dismay as I caught sight of the huge inflatable pig that was clearly visible in the night sky floating betwixt the chimney-stacks of Battersea Power Station. Alighting on Queenstown Road and marching through wind and rain towards the revered building, Roxette couldn’t quite grasp why I was so vexed that Pink Floyd would chose to shoot the cover art-work for their soon-to-be-released album Animals on such hallowed ground – and I was in no mood to explain. What was required now was direct action. Back-in-the-day there was no CCTV to worry about, no over zealous security patrols and besides I had Roxette to act as a decoy at the gate. Using my extensive knowledge of the sites layout, I slipped by unnoticed. Stanley to hand, I made light work of the mooring ropes on the south chimney – and looked on gleefully as the giant pink pig floated away.

In the year that followed I was delighted that another favourite group, the Jam, shot the promotional video to their brilliant single “News of the World” atop the roof of BPS – and in a faint twist of irony, in later life, I came to appreciate the work of Pink Floyd and indeed the Animals album.

Battersea Power Station was declared a heritage site in 1980, and in 1983 ceased generating electricity, its useful life ended by a combination of outdated equipment and a shift towards oil, gas and nuclear power. Since then I’ve attended both legal and illegal “raves” at the site, various art exhibitions and even a performance by Cirque du Soleil all the while, watching, waiting and hoping that something good might come to pass as crumbling decay set in. And now, with the possibility that Chelsea Football Club might provide salvation, as you can imagine, my heart is gladdened by the possibilities – The Punk and the Godfather, satisfied at last? Maybe – just maybe.

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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.gate17.co.uk

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.gate17.co.uk

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.’

On Saturday 15th May 2010, Chelsea became only the seventh Club in the history of the game to do the Double. It’s worth pointing out here that two of those teams, Preston North End and Aston Villa achieved the feat in a sepia-tinged era two centuries ago when Queen Victoria sat on the Throne. Rottenham Dropspur managed it once in black and white almost fifty years ago, leaving Arsenal, Liverpool and Manchester United as the only outfits to have done the double in colour … albeit a horrible shade of red. The Blues won it in High Definition.

With the Premier League title having been secured with an emphatic 8-0 victory over Wigan Athletic on the final day of what had been a gloriously unpredictable season, many had expected a similar rout of Pompey at Wembley. The Blues journey to the Cup Final had hardly been a taxing one with Watford, Preston, Cardiff, Stoke and Villa brushed aside with contemptuous ease … 16 goals scored and just 1 conceded … surely there was more to come. In the end Chelsea huffed and puffed their way to a 1-0 win, though a score-line of 7-2 in the Blues favour could quite easily have been the outcome.

We love the FA Cup; it’s in our blood, a part of the rich tapestry first woven by Ossie and the original king’s of the Kings Road … as for winning the league, well that’s another matter. Bentley’s Boys won it for the first time in 1955 and then Chelsea had to wait a full half-century to repeat the feat and that, as we are often reminded by critics of our Club, was achieved with the financial backing of owner Mr Roman Abramovich and the tactical nous of coach Jose Mourinho. ‘That’s why we’re Champion’s’, was the popular chant as the Blues bludgeoned their way to back-to-back titles … but then sadly, the dream started to turn sour.

At the time of his controversial departure, Jose Mourinho, the self-styled ‘Special One’ had not only managed to divide opinion amongst the True Blue Massive but also turn our beloved Chelsea into the most vilified team in the land. ‘Everyone loves a winner’, so the saying goes, but trust me, there were plenty of match-going, old-school supporters in and around SW6 who had grown tired of Jose’s divisive self-aggrandisement by the time he left.

Don’t get me wrong, what Mourinho achieved in his short spell in the Stamford Bridge hot-seat was sensational and being at the Reebok to witness scintillating Super Frank seal the first of those back-to-back titles is etched forever at the forefront of my memory.

What a day that was. Cheers Jose!

No one can cast aspersions on Mourinho’s credentials as a football coach … but the man is at the centre of his own universe; a narcissistic and Machiavellian pantomime villain so in love with himself, I wouldn’t be surprised to read in the tabloids one day that he likes to masturbate naked in front of a mirror with his winners medals around his neck. To witness Jose cavorting across the lush green expanse of the Camp Nou after his Inter Milan side had eliminated Barcelona from this seasons Champions League competition cemented the thought many already had in their minds that Mourinho genuinely views himself to be bigger than any Club that employs him.

When Internationale and Jose were drawn to play Chelsea in the preceding round we all knew in our heart of hearts what the outcome would be. Jose would have the last laugh over Mr Abramovich and his old adversary Carlo Ancelotti when push came to shove … as it did more often than not every time a Blues player got the ball.

I wasn’t laughing though; I was gutted … and doubly so on March 21st 2010 when Chelsea threw away an early lead in the league game at Blackburn that followed. ‘Ancelottery’, cried the cynics as the Blues annoyingly drew 1-1. At that time, Carlo’s record in his past nine matches read four wins, four defeats and one draw, it was hardly a display of title-winning credentials and his charges were now four points behind Manchester United and two behind Arsenal, though with a game in hand.

Was Carlo’s dream going to implode? Avram Grant and Phil Scolari had failed in their endeavours to step out of the shadow of Mourinho, Guus Hiddink did so briefly but couldn’t be persuaded to stay. What now for the Italian? What now for Chelsea? Would any man ever be able to unshackle the Blues from the association with Mourinho as the greatest manager of them all?

With baited breath, we watched, we waited and we hoped.

Ancelotti was resolute, he accepted that Chelsea had to beat Portsmouth in their next game to revive their title aspirations, but winning at Fratton Park would represent only the start of the arduous task he was facing. The amiable farmers son from Reggiolo had a maximum of ten matches in the league and FA Cup in which to turn round the Blues season and his level of success would determine not only his future at Stamford Bridge, but also that of several key players, the direction of the club as a whole, and of course the way he is perceived by the supporters.

No pressure then! Cometh the hour, cometh the man.

Carlo Ancelotti arrived at Stamford Bridge a winner. Victorious as both player and manager with AC Milan, the first thing that struck me about Carletto was the fact he is a genuine football man. Imbued in the great traditions of the game, was he to be the manager who would build an ‘identity’ for Chelsea crafted in the fashion so coveted by Mr Abramovich? In the final analysis, the answer has to be a resounding YES!

At the outset, Carlo had implemented his preferred diamond formation, but he’d been quick to revert to the Chelsea’s long-standing 4-3-3 after the first few signs of trouble, and whilst the faithful Blue flock may have wavered in their beliefs along the way, especially on the long journey home from Ewood Park, surely now, even the surliest of non-believers have converted to the Church of Carlo. ‘I believe in God,’ Ancelotti had said, as we wondered if divine intervention was required to assist him in his duties. ‘I pray for personal matters, not for football. I think God has better things to do.’

Maybe the Man Upstairs recognized Carlo’s humility. Maybe the Man Upstairs had grown tired of Jose’s posturing and preening. Maybe, just maybe, the Man Upstairs was a Chelsea supporter.

Chelsea plundered 34 goals in the nine games that followed the disappointing showing against Blackburn and conceded just four. The capitulation of Pompey may have been expected, but the swashbuckling manner in which Aston Villa and Stoke were put to the sword and the victories at Old Trafford and Anfield endorsed the belief that Ancelotti had enough in his locker to radically transform Chelsea’s fortunes. The Blues had scored 72 league goals in each of Jose Mourinho’s title winning campaigns … this season Carlo’s boys mustered 103 on their journey to glory.

Look at the players. Yes we all know about Frankie Boy and JT but what about the others? Under Ancelotti, Florent Malouda has been a revelation. Unshackled from his restrictive wingers chains, the Frenchman has darted back and forth across the attacking line operating virtually as a third striker behind the re-vitalised golden-booted Drog and imperious Nicolas Anelka. Did you honestly ever think you’d see Salomon Kalou score a hat-trick? Deco fleetingly back at his shimmering best? Ballack playing football without a cigar in his hand? The only true disappointment if there is one has been the inability of Joe Cole to regain and sustain his form … but then he did score that bejeweled Zola-esque goal at Old Trafford against Manchester United to set Chelsea on their way to victory against their nearest rivals for the title.

It could be argued that Chelsea should have secured the title long before the final day of the season and that’s as maybe. A pristine 100% record against United, Arsenal and Liverpool suggests it should have been easier than it was, but then Chelsea wouldn’t be Chelsea without the odd flakey result here and there. Injuries to key players like Ashley Cole and Michael Essien didn’t help matters along the way and then of course came the John Terry affair.

Each and every challenge that Carlo Ancelotti has faced during the course of this season has been dealt with diligently, with good spirit and in ever improving English. The Blues are worthy Double winners. Carlo Ancelotti has achieved more in his first season as manager than any man before him and he has also exorcised the irksome ghost of Jose Mourinho from the hallowed halls of Stamford Bridge a feat which seems to have skipped the attention of both the Premier League and his peer group.

Roy Hodgson and Harry Redknapp are both likeable fellows. Fulham exceeded their own modest expectations by reaching the final of Europe’s second tier tournament where they lost to Athletico Madrid. In the league, Hodgson steered them to a creditable 12th place finish. Roy Hodgson was voted ‘manager of the year’ by his peers. Harry Redknapp’s Spurs side finished 4th in the league guaranteeing Champions League Football at White Hart Lane next season. For his endeavours, Redknapp was named ‘manager of the year’ by the Premier League.

Question: What do Roy and Harry have in common, apart from the fact they are both English?

Answer: They both won nothing in the 2009/2010 season.

Here is a list of Chelsea’s ‘first team’ achievements this season under Carlo Ancelotti.

Community Shield winners
Premier League winners
FA Cup Winners
Didier Drogba ‘Golden Boot’
Petr Cech ‘Golden Gloves’
103 league goals scored (new Premier league record)

In each of the past three seasons Sir Alex Ferguson was named manager of the year for his title winning exploits, this following on from two consecutive victories for a certain Jose Mourinho.

So what about Signor Ancelotti?

Why have his remarkable achievements been ignored?

I can honestly say, I haven’t a clue.

One thing’s for certain though, Blues fans across the world are unified now in their support and respect for the man who brought the Double to Stamford Bridge.

All hail the new king of the Kings Road. ‘Carlo, Carlo, Carlo’.

MARK WORRALL

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 www.overlandandsea.net.

As supporters, we would all love to play for Chelsea Football Club, sadly though, for 99.9% of us, our childhood dreams come to nought, thwarted most obviously by a deficiency of the skill and dedication it takes to become a professional footballer. So what about the 0.1% then? The kids who could turn their dreams into reality, swapping the replica shirts of their youth for the real thing? I’ll tell you what? We’d love them with a passion. We’d adore them because we could identify with them, because they were truly one of us. The sad thing is though, at Stamford Bridge, ‘they’ don’t exist.

In the 21^st Century, John Terry is the only player to have made the transformation from promising Chelsea youth to True Blue legend … but he grew up supporting Manchester United. Why do Liverpool fans adore the likes of Gerrard and Carragher? Why were Everton fans devastated when Rooney left Goodison Park for Old Trafford. Why did the Geordies ill-fatedly believe Alan Shearer was the new Messiah? Why? Because these are the local boys who made good.

Much has been made of the shortcomings of Chelsea’s high profile and monstrously expensive youth setup and the why’s and wherefore’s of the Club’s inability to scout local talent at an early age. Listen in to any Blues related conversation in match-day drinkers round and about SW6 and I’ll guarantee you sooner or later someone will ask, ‘where are the Chelsea kids?’ Where indeed? Nowhere to be found, and so this is why, despite the fact he came to Stamford Bridge via Upton Park having spent the formative years of his career in the claret and blue of West Ham United, Joe Cole, Chelsea supporter, is a prince among men. Quite simply, Joe is the closest thing we Blues have to a ‘Carra’ or a Stevie G … and boy can he play a bit.

Part of a small group of 300 or so Blues supporters who’d made the journey to Slovakia to witness the dawn of Mr Abramovich’s Chelski revolution in a Champions League qualifier against MSK Zilina back in August 2003, I was fortunate enough to see Joe Cole make his Chelsea debut as a 70^th minute substitute for another new-boy Damien Duff. Rapturous applause greeted Joe’s arrival onto the pitch. Joe Cole, a Chelsea supporter, playing for Chelsea. Here was something special for sure, and it was Joe who produced a clever little back heel for Eidur Gudjohnsen that resulted in the Blues winning goal as Zilina’s Drahno spectacularly chipped his own keeper from the edge of the box.

That’s how the love affair started …

‘He’s here, he’s there, he’s every f*cking where, Joey Cole, Joey Cole.’

Well he was when he got the chance. At £6.6 million pounds, Joe was an expensive benchwarmer for most of his first season at Chelsea as manager Claudio Ranieri persistently tinkered with his line-ups, a habit which would eventually get him the sack. Enter Jose Mourinho, and the ever patient Cole, taking advantage of injuries to other players, became one of the stars of the team that ended fifty years of hurt and brought the title back to Stamford Bridge. During this momentous season Joe also cemented a starting place in the England team on the left side of midfield, which England had struggled to fill adequately for several years. Joe Cole, Chelsea and England … brilliant!

Goal of the season for Chelsea fans? How about JCs  22nd minute strike against Norwich City at Carrow Road which silenced Delia Smith’s Barmy Army? The goal was all of Cole’s own making as he rode tackles from Shackell and Fleming before unleashing a ferocious drive beyond Green into the top left-hand corner for his fifth goal of the season. ‘You’re going down with a souffle’, we sang. Oh what fun we had on that bitterly cold night in East Anglia, and it was there for all to see that Joe Cole was reveling in it.

The following season Chelsea won the title again and once more Joe scored arguably the best Blues goal of the campaign in a 3-0 victory over Manchester United, a result that confirmed Mourinho’s men as back-to-back Champions. Picking up the ball, 25 yards from goal, Cole twisted clear of Ferdinand and Mikael Silvestre with a twinkle-toed shimmy which saw him drag the ball quickly under the studs of one boot, then the other, before sprinting away. United keeper, Van der Sar rushed out to narrow his options but Cole stayed cool, slotting the ball home before ripping off his shirt and celebrating with the True Blue massive.

The love affair, now a dazzling relationship, culminated in Joe Cole winning the Chelsea Supporters ‘Player of the Year’ award in 2007-2008, but sadly, the knee injury that Joe picked up midway through the following season subsequently hampered his career and he has struggled to regain his fitness and form.  In order to do that, surely he needs to be given more time on the pitch. Speaking about this, Joe said recently, ‘there are no niggles. Of course, I am not match fit, but how can I be when I don’t play? I want to be part of the Chelsea team to win the Premier League and the FA Cup. But I need an opportunity to start games back-to-back, I know I can help my team achieve our dream this season if given a chance. I am not giving up on this Chelsea team.’

Carlo Ancelotti has used Joe sparingly this season and yet both he and Chelsea’s assistant manager Ray Wilkins insist that the playmaker still has a future at the club. Against Cardiff City in the FA Cup, Joe was ignominiously substituted at half time and, although he featured for the whole of the next game against Wolves, he was kept on the bench for the Inter Milan match which followed. Those of us who made the trip to the San Siro and endured a one hour lock-in after the final whistle looked on with a mixture of sadness and admiration as Joe cut a solitary figure going through his warm down routine on the pitch long after the stadium had all but emptied out. We sang his name and he applauded, and when he put the ball in the back of the net, Joe got the biggest cheer of the night.

Cole looked frustrated in the opening period of the home defeat against Manchester City that followed the loss in Milan and he was subbed on the hour mark with some critics, demoralised by the spanking meted out by the Citizens, arguing that he wasn’t worth £100,000 a week. Whilst it’s fair to say that Joe clearly remains some way below his best, it’s worth remembering that at the age of 28 he is just coming into his prime and to sign a player of his calibre would potentially cost Mr Abramovich upwards of £20 million and that’s if City didn’t buy him first!

Available on a free transfer when his current deal expires at the end of June, Man Utd, Man City, Liverpool and, God forbid, Spurs, are all eying Cole with interest. “I’ve never spoken publicly about contracts before. I don’t think contracts should really be discussed mid-season. I have always signed mine in the summer in the past,’ said Joe, “But this time it’s different. We can’t seem to find common ground and it’s distracting. At the moment there is no offer on the table, so I know where I stand. I still hope to talk in the summer”.

Clearly then there is a problem to which there doesn’t appear to be a solution. If Joe really is an integral part of Chelsea’s blue-print for the future then why wasn’t he offered an extension to his current contract last season? This is standard practice. At present it seems that unless Cole is prepared to revise his wage demands he is destined to depart Stamford Bridge and, where he to do so, many match-going Blues fans would feel that the Club has sold them short.

Joe Cole … “Everyone at the club knows that when I play for Chelsea I give everything.”

These aren’t empty words from a mercenary; they represent a heartfelt plea from someone for whom pulling on the Blue shirt of Chelsea Football Club genuinely means something. Will a compromise be found? Who knows? It’s for Mr Abramovich to decide. One thing’s for certain though, if Joe Cole is allowed to leave it will leave many supporters questioning the ambition of the Club and the motives of those in charge of its future destiny. Even worse, you can wager high stakes that, just like Jose Mourinho, Joe will come back top haunt us. Still, we can all rest easy in our beds; safe in the knowledge that should he score against his beloved Blues, the lad wouldn’t celebrate. 

Mr Abramovich, I do not profess to have a crystal ball, but I have this nightmare vision of Jose and Joe doing the tango at Eastlands … and may the good Lord help us if it ever comes true. Joe Cole and Chelsea go together like fish and chips, like bangers and mash, like curry and rice or best of all like a good quality bottle of light ale entwined with a premium lager.

Altogether now, ‘we want you to stay, we want you to stay … Joey Cole, we want you to stay.’

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. All titles are available to buy with a discount of up to 50% and free UK postage at http://www.overlandandsea.net/

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/

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 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