There are many unsolved mysteries dangling by a thread in this world.¤ Would England have progressed past Argentina if Beckham hadnˇt been dismissed?¤ Would Maggie Thatcher have been re-elected if Britain had failed in their attempts to hold on to the Falklands?¤ Would Jordan still attract tacky tabloids if she had at least one brain cell that functioned normally? And why in the name of the good lord Jesus Christ do we manage to spectacularly capitulate at Stamford Bridge, season upon season? Oh, and the day started off so brightly as well.¤ Fair enough the sun wasnˇt shining, but Virgin Rail was providing services that had a reasonable degree of efficiency attached to them.¤ The little luvvies even allowed me to pick and choose his seat, as there were plenty available. Altogether now Ah...ABOUT FUCKING TIME!
Sitting inside the Double Six Cafe, situated along Eversholt Street, adjacent to Euston Station, tucking into a pre-match fry up, the background music took me on a significant trip down memory lane.¤ Lisa Stansfield's, "Around the World", was sitting pretty at number one the last time we recorded a victory at Stamford Bridge.
Not one, not two, not three, not four... but five...yes count them, FIVE exquisite goals.¤ Two up inside the opening seven minutes.¤ Kerry Dixon not getting a sniff all afternoon.¤ Steve McMahon pulverising his counterparts in the heart of the midfield. Proceeding smoothly along to Championship #19.¤ Oh happy days!
Other monumental moments during our vestige of hegemony saw the Berlin Wall's long overdue dissipation, the USSR admitting defeat in Afghanistan, the rise and rise of the house music era and reasonably priced entry into a football stadium.
Hah, hah and bloody hah.¤ Yes, during that now infamous afternoon down at the 'Chels', you could have stood for under a tenner, or taken up a seat for a reasonable amount.¤ Compare that to todayˇs prohibitive cost of £35.¤ And what did my £35 guarantee me? A ground level seat towards the left of the dug out.¤ So ostracised from the action, I spent 95% of the afternoon participating in a slanging match with the stewards from Robocop.¤ Deck them out in their fancy attire, and they're dead ringers...oh yes...oh yes...They proceeded to stretch me to the very brink.¤ Understandably those around proceeded to stand up.¤ Having to spend the entire 90 minutes with my neck erected in a somewhat uncomfortable position would have converted me into a comatosed Giraffe.
Suddenly the Bluenose Robocop Clan decided to belligerently remove those concerned from the premises.¤ Moi was also directly in the firing line.¤ Blatantly told to sit down.¤ Any reciprocation would have resulted in my afternoon curtailing before it had literally begun (oh, aren't premonitions wonderful if you can conjure them up?)
The situation was compounded, as I had to prevent myself from regurgitating at the sight of Mark Bosnich crowing at such a humiliation.¤ He may have been put through a tumultuous and prolonged agony at Delusion Grandeur HQ but that injected bitterness never deserts you.
What about the food...Umm...ah...amen...A bite from a Chels Chicken Pie was enough to make you wanna cry.¤ The excruciating pains blatantly inviting you to die.¤ All for the bargain basement price of £2.50.¤ Or how about a hot dog at £3... a radioactive burger at £3...a can of Bud at £2.80...a garbage fuelled piece of drudgery in the shape of their matchday programme...at £3. You could spend a weekend in Paris for roughly the same cost as a day out down at the Chels.
At least we were destined to win.¤ Lisa Stansfield was a positive omen.¤ Those demons would finally be publicly exorcised.¤ Twelve years of Cockney hurt about to curtail.¤ Thommo had carefully instructed them not to concede an early... an early...
Last season we successfully held out for two minutes.¤ This season witnessed a substantial improvement as we kept them at bay for an entire sixty seconds longer.¤ Wouldnˇt it be a better idea to take the game to them, stay water tight at the back, be alert and focussed?¤ Nah, that's too easy...Let's all interrupt the stuffed corpses from their Caviar and Champagne in the exclusively new West Stand.
Yes, if you have a spare four-figure sum of money living a lonesome existence, you'd be a fool not to invest in such a wonderful institution.¤ Hey, they may have only won four trophies within the past thirty years, but there's snotty luxury in the form of a block of newly erected penthouses, a selection of gold star restaurants and a nightclub.¤ Who needs the Grafton when the likes of Tara-Palmer Tomkinson are opening their legs to reveal the fresh odour of Harry Ramsden's finest?
The deadly Stamford Bridge virus was showing signs of abating as we managed to invite their defence to ...well... actually... defend.¤ Within the fifteen minutes proceeding the goal we settled down into a rhythm, producing some good flowing football.¤ On another day both Sami and Stevie G respectively could have pulled us level.¤ Only one down, we were still in contention.
Contention...contention...infamous drawn out words.¤ Instead of taking the simple option by hoofing the ball towards those pontificating blue nosed Cockney's situated in the sumptuous West Stand, our Carra invited Jimmy Floyd 'Havvawank' to nip in front of him and find the back of the net.¤ When Carra is having an indifferent game, you're worst fears are out in the open.
Down in the rear concourse at half time, the inquest is well underway.¤ "Why is Jari playing in midfield?"¤ "Our worst fears have been confirmed".¤ "What is it about this ground?"¤ "There's no fire power when Owen's missing"¤ "We're not good enough to win the league".¤ "Selling Fowler was criminal".
Patience, patience...if we score early after the restart, we'll be in with a reasonable shout. Thommo obviously took a dislike to the decor that was clouding the visitors dressing room as he went about stripping it off with vigorous intent.
With all guns blazing, we decided to put in an appearance.¤ Stevie and Danny were getting to grips with Lampard and Dela Bona, Jari was playing in his usual advanced position and John Arne was causing problems down the left.
I wanna knooowwww how you won that penalty???¤ Looked fairly innocuous, but thank you very much. Cue Jari to act as the catalyst in the rousing comeback.¤ All of the sudden an infectious disease strikes him...resulting in instant hair loss.
He's got no hair...and we definately cared.¤ Second souvenir from today as Gary Mac envisaged once again pulling on a Scotland jersey, adding to Carra's odious performance.¤ The referee should have signalled for full time there and then.¤ There's more chance of Cliff Richard having his ring piece christened than us breaking this Stamford Bridge hoodoo.¤ Send us to any other stadium in the world and you'd feel confident of us obtaining a result.
The loyal Caviar and Champagne toffs were revelling in their latest Cup final victory.¤ "Can we play you every week" was ringing around the Bridge.¤ Ah yes, that legendary chant you never hear them sing at Anfield.¤ "Are you United in disguise" was another classic".¤ Eighteen Championships, four European Cups, six FA Cups, six League Cups, three Uefa Cups...no I don't think we are somehow!¤ We should feel sympathetic towards their cause though as the video of their last Championship triumph (1955) isnˇt available now Betamax videos are defunct.
Our trusty back four turn alarmingly magnanimous where this fixture is concerned. We conceded more goals inside 90 minutes than in 540, spread over six games against Barcelona, Porto and Roma last season.¤ W-E-I-R-D.
Other goals...did I say other goals?¤ Sami and co perpetuated more inexplicable crimes as they were stretched from one penthouse to another as the perpetual horror show produced more gory lowlights.¤ Comfort was introduced as my birds eye view of the Chelsea dug out saved me from the humiliation of the third.¤ Fulham Broadway tube station minus the proliferation of blue nosed hordes was more inviting than the fourth goal.
I'd arranged to meet up with some of the lads at Kings Cross for a post-match drink beforehand. Come full time I'd have quite happily settled for running an open-air hot dog stall in the centre of Kabul.
Approaching Euston, I could hear yet more background music.¤ A classic tune from yesteryear, "The Power" by Snap, number one around the time Championship #19 was being presented to Alan Hansen.¤ Omens do materialise... don't they?
TEAM: Jerzy Dudek; Jamie Carragher, Sami Hyypia, Stephane Henchoz, John Arne Riise; Steven Gerrard, Igor Biscan (Stephen Wright), Gary McAllister, Danny Murphy; Emile Heskey, Jari Litmanen:
