![]() Chelsea 4 PAOK Salonika 0 Thursday 29th November 2019 20:00 Sp*rs: Well that was like being the subject of an Ancient Egyptian embalming, where they pulled your brain out through your nostril with a crochet hook. Only having it done while you are conscious. Alcohol and war sh*t took over. I’ll put it in the book at the end of the season. In the News: Firstly, let us join hands and give thanks for another appalling outing from Thibaut Conktois in goal at Eibar. Amen. Kante, Kante, Kante. It must be a slow news week if the Red Swarm are giving credence to the witterings emanating from Tony Cascarino about how N’golo will be off like a shot. Especially when he gleefully signed a new five year deal, like, yesterday. Is he being given the best platform to showcase his talent? Not right now. Can every player on every team always be given that? No. Is it surprising that Sarri has been tailoring his layout to the man he insisted he bring with him? No. Was he going to change it when we had had a surprise, blinding, unbeaten start to the season? No. Does that mean he won’t ever? No. That said, his comment about Kante’s ability in central midfield was wank and if Sarri makes our adorable little mini-driving genius cry and I will take off my boot and spike him in the eye with a stiletto heel. By omitting us from a list of clubs, Rafa may have slighted Chelsea fans, report the Press Plebs, with glee. If he wasn’t foaming at the mouth after the grief we gave him and spitting blood at every opportunity to have a dig in our direction I’d mark him off as a complete pussy with the fighting spirit of A French General suffering from narcolepsy. “It’s all quite predictable.” Says Mark Hughes over the news that his job stability might not be at its optimum level. I think he might have mean my that it isn’t surprising that Saints fans are calling for his curly scalp to be nailed to the wall. Unless he is more astute than we give him credit for and has realised that he is a dogsh*t manager. And Van Gaal has said that UEFAlona shouldn’t bother trying to re-sign Neymar because he’s “too individualistic.” I would have just gone with “megalomaniac self-centred b*stard” since it was revealed that he gets a €300k bonus a year to wave at fans. The Others: in Europe’s two bit half-a*sed competition, Chequebook Pulis turned up all on his lonesome for their game. Then he went all hulk with a rack of sports drinks. In truth it was about as terrifying as the menacing glare I get from Bertie, my feline overlord, when he’s licked all the gravy off his breakfast and thinks he’s entitled to a fresh pouch, but it was at least entertaining. And miraculous that the ball found the net at all considering Fail-laini couldn’t even find the f*cking mascot in the tunnel before the game. “If we don’t get through we will be proper idiots” said Ancelotti of Napoli. Little Londonism that warmed the cockles of my heart, so it did. And Klippity Klopp has been complimenting people on their erotic voices in press conferences. I don’t know if it was a bloke or a woman, and I don’t give a sh*t what he said, but for the hilarity I sincerely hope there is a contingent of Twitterati activists out there screaming about his non-PC behaviour, demanding he resigns and threatening to cut his knob off under the hashtag #KloppItOff But on to the competition where all the real glory is at... Us: All our lot had been put through rigorous fitness testing after Saturday’s debacle, aside from Sarri, who it was rightly assumed by the medical team has the self-inflicted lung capacity of a fat, asthmatic squirrel panting his way up a particularly sizeable tree and so spared him. Starts for CHO, (I don’t like acronyms, I’m just lazy) and for Ruben, and for Barkley, and Cahill. When was the last time we fielded that many Englishmen... *waits for some know it all to tell her it was last week* Them: Salonika, did you know, was possibly the most pointless front you could have been sent to in WW1. Your chances of having a meaningful effect on the outcome was about as likely as Sam Allardyce or Steve Bruce getting back into one of their own match-worn shirts, and we only got dragged there because of the dastardly French obsessing over the place. And so landed EasyJet FC, who were so orange it made my eyes hurt. There were some bizarre hairstyles on display from the visitors. The goalie has been watching a bit too much Vikings, their number nine too, unless he’s doing as really sh*t impression of Ibrahimovic. Either that or PAOK’s budget doesn’t extend to a communal Netflix subscription on their travels and they sit there playing with a set of clippers. Their fans were going to be whistling whenever we had the ball, it seemed. It’s was going to be a long night for them, especially after one of them fell over the ball in the opening minutes, thus demonstrating the unlikeliness that they were going to have much of an impact. 85% possession for us in the opening spell, but they were energetic and their fans thought this was the most exciting day ever, so hurrah, they’ve turned up, which was more than could be said for us last time out. And then the spoilsport referee went and crapped on their parade after five minutes. Yes he was the last man but come on, show them some pity. The tackle was so slapstick we all laughed. The guy was the size of a tank, so the heartless official best sleep with one eye open. Still only half the size of the useless official on the goal line at the Shed End though, who shares a physique with Sutton United’s beloved keeper of recent FA Cup pie-eating fame. Willing to bet you could see the poor bugger from Space in his yellow attire, like some radioactive mutant Big Bird wielding a sh*t little stick. Fabregas hit one just wide from that free kick, and there then began a long procession of chances. The Beard back-heeled one across the face of goal, but nobody was following it in; CHO struck just wide. The best effort so far came from a shot from Ruben which sailed just wide approaching the twenty minute mark, followed by a close header from Cahill. My companions tonight included The Old Man Who Lives in the Shoe (special alias, on account of the fact that every time I see him he has a new child) He’d had enough by this point and declared: “Let’s get some noise going” before demanding more volume from the Shed. In the meantime the deadlock was finally broken on 26 minutes. The Beard owed that well deserved goal entirely to some phenomenal ball control by Pedro Pony. A foul on Barkley went unpunished ludicrously a minute later, no doubt because the referee realised he had been an utter b*stard to the visitors and let them off, and then CHO cracked it off the bar. He was having a great spell on the left. Just as I typed “The Beard will be disappointed that he’s not on a hatrick” he banged another one in. Shoddy from the goalkeeper but he was hardly expecting that to be hit so well, so quickly. And the procession continued: great play from CHO again, but I’m not sure how Pedro Pony didn’t score as a result of his efforts on 41. Had he stood there and let it bounce off of his nutsack it would have had more chance of going in than the attempt he fashioned on the fly. He was nonetheless, having a good game. I will also point out for the benefit of those slagging him off behind us, that Cahill had put in some timely blocks so far, and that Sarri would be mad if he didn’t notice, especially after the Luiz implosion at the weekend God they didn’t ‘alf make a racket. More so than TOMWLITS who once got told by a woman in the corner of the Shed that they didn’t need his ilk shouting when they were trying to watch their football. They sang, they bounced, they sang some more. I will have that bloody tune going round my head for days. Apparently there were more of them outside ramming the gates trying to get in. In the stand, I was developing an irrational desire to headbutt anyone who refers to Christensen as “Andy.” Their penalty appeal from #74 was as ludicrous as the player’s hair. He looked like the result of a frantic drunken fumble between Willian and Luiz. Ruben so deserved a goal after doing his best impression of Eden on 55, but it was wide. “Andy” followed it up with a volley that was a lot closer than any of us expected it to be but the score stayed at two until CHO finally got his just reward for a prolific display on the hour mark and netted his first senior goal for the club. This may have been a makeshift lineup tonight, but it was notable that everyone celebrated every goal together and that none of them out there treated it like a dead rubber for us. The result safe, Ampadu came on for Zappacosta and Pedro Pony for Willian. In truth though, we settled into about second gear and stayed there for most of the rest of the game. To their credit, the Greeks never gave up at least having a go as the clock wound down and the rain fell, and their bonkers supporters kept on going till the end too. Morata was sent on for a soaking, must have done something to piss off the manager this week, and thus The Beard was denied the chance to take the match ball. The former scored with nearly his first touch, by which time the crowd at our end was more interested in watching nonsense unfold amongst the away fans beneath us. So: This run-out against a much weaker side, quickly reduced to ten men was never going to prove anything after the abysmal experience of the weekend. Crochet hook, nose, etc. But, the players that took to the field could not have given us anymore. They were clinical and they treated it like I wish the rest of the squad had treated that Wembley affair. So for that, thanks. Peanuts tho compared to the importance of the return of Ranieri to the Bridge this weekend, for which I’ll be blogging from Legends in NYC at the crack of dawn. The collection for the children who will spend this Christmas homeless and in a domestic violence shelter is going great guns, but every donation counts. You can PayPal donations to [email protected], and they will go not only towards presents but towards much needed items for families and for the group home. If you are at a game (or Legends this weekend) I can collect donations in person - thank you to all those that shoved money into my hand tonight xx AC
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![]() Chelsea 0 Everton 0 11th November 2018 14:15 Not the game. That was distinctly forgettable. Normal savage service will be permanently resumed when we go to Sp*rs, but this is a blog with a difference. I’m distinctly proud of my football club, for yesterday, on the 100th anniversary of the end of the Great War, Chelsea made magic happen for four families and asked nothing at all in return. They had all lost a relative that had at the very least been a match-going Chelsea “die-hard” before WW1, and in some cases an ancestor who had actually enlisted to fight at Stamford Bridge at the behest of the club. In 2014, at the request of my publisher, with fellow Chelsea fans I began researching a book about the club and the Great War. We were never going to make any money; this was not Dan Brown territory, we can actually write for starters, but we were all WW1 researchers or at least enthusiasts and we fancied doing the work anyway. Quickly we were interested in the fans, people just like us who served, just as much as we were in former players. To research a serviceman properly, I generally try and find their family, which involves a lot of genealogical experience I started amassing at school when I was bored and should have been doing my homework, and before ancestry was even a thing; along with a bit of stalking and a creepy letter or phone call to a stranger that involves reciting their family tree to them and hoping you have found the right person and that they don’t hang up on you thinking you are a lunatic. What we found, I published in 2015 with Andrew Holmes, who was successfully swayed towards Chelsea from supporting his local club Derby by his babysitter in 1978 and has never looked back. In some cases it was easy to find who we were looking for, when men’s names had crept into the Chelsea Chronicle, which was our programme at the time and copies of which were generously shared with us by the FA at Wembley. Cecil Dean had been visiting Stamford Bridge since the club’s inception with his father William, a successful career soldier stationed nearby at Chelsea, and his younger brother. By 1914 William had retired and Cecil was a teenage soldier in the Irish Guards, sent to France in September. We found Cecil’s nephew, who shared photographs and documents with us, but yesterday, thanks to Chelsea we met his daughter Clare, and Mark, her cousin’s son, for the first time. It was all the more poignant because her father passed away as we were writing the book, but had asked her to finish what he had started, and help us commemorate their family in print. We dedicated the book to him. Clare travelled all the way from Lincoln to spend the centenary of the armistice at the ground that her great great grandfather had loved, watching Chelsea, a pastime that her great uncle had pined for from the Western Front before he was killed at the Battle of Festubert in 1915. William rejoined the army after his eldest son was killed, he served during the Battle of the Somme, and when he finally retired for good after the war, this Blue had served his country for more than thirty years. Harry Trusler was a very early war recruit, another teenager. From near Basingstoke, he made the journey up by train via Wimbledon like so many fans do now to watch his club. He joined the Royal Marines, and survived chaos at Gallipoli. In fact, he survived from the beginning of the conflict until almost the end, when he was killed in the final advance to victory at the age of 22. Three members of his family were invited to Stamford Bridge for yesterday’s game: his great nephew Dennis, who first came to Stamford Bridge himself in the 70s, his wife Sue and son Mike. To find the men who enlisted in Kitchener’s New Armies, the ones that answered repeated match day calls at Stamford Bridge to join the war effort, our job got much, much more difficult. In fact; it is the most intricate bit of research I’ve ever done, and I don’t think it will ever be surpassed in that respect. The Footballer’s Battalion, which was designed for pros to serve together and to encourage fans to join them, was formed in part by representatives from Chelsea at Fulham Town Hall at the end of 1914. We knew that someone had claimed that before the date when the number of men reached 1500, 150 odd were Chelsea fans. Using service numbers, we identified the first 1400 to be safe, and went about researching every single one, weeding those from the area around Stamford Bridge out of the pile for further research; setting aside those who lived next door to White Hart Lane, or Woolwich Arsenal, and the large group who were very obviously clustered around Clapton Orient, who we knew contributed as many fans as we did. Here’s where we should have reached a brick wall. British Army service records for WW1 are to a large extent, gone. The Luftwaffe bombed them in the Second World War. They caught fire. Then the fire brigade turned up and covered them in water. And yet. Fate seemed to have conspired to help us succeed. Nobody knows in what order they were stored, but with just a few exceptions, every time we went looking for a man in the Footballer’s Battalion’s service papers, we found them. We identified 100 men who lived and worked in the area directly surrounding Stamford Bridge. We could identify the ones that had enlisted in the army around matchdays. And we started taking a closer look using all our best stalking techniques to find the families of the best candidates to corroborate our theory about their Chelsea connections using their knowledge. One of these men was Patrick Ronan. Pat was a costermonger (market trader with a mobile stall) on North End Road. Yesterday his grandson John and his lovely wife Jan were brought up to Chelsea. I don’t know if John thought he’d ever see another game at Stamford Bridge. He used to live on Fulham Road, he was at the ground week in, week out. He remembers more than 70 years ago being warned with his classmates about what would happen to them if they bunked school to go and watch the famous friendly against Dynamo Moscow in 1945. It was a happy reunion for myself and Holmes, for we had been to visit them when we were researching the book and seen some incredible artefacts from the war that had belonged to Pat. His was a realistic story of enlistment in the war. He couldn’t find anything to sell on his stall once it began, prices went up, he and his wife Annie had two children to support. He joined the army outside Stamford Bridge because the money was regular, more than he was getting, and he needed it. I never thought I’d get to introduce John to Roger, another friend we made whilst we were working on the Footballer’s Battalion, invited up from Cornwall with his wife Gerry yesterday by the club. Roger’s grandad served side by side in the Footballer’s Battalion with John’s throughout the Battle of the Somme. Sid Jerram and his brother Bert lived on Avalon Road, yards from Stamford Bridge. They bounced home from the ground one day and declared to their mother that they had joined the army at a match. To say that she was unimpressed would be a massive understatement. She needed their incomes to keep the family going, and this rocked the boat. Along with Pat Ronan they survived the horror of Delville Wood in late July. When an attack was launched at Guillemont in August, Roger’s great uncle Bert was killed, and Pat wounded. He’d returned to the battalion in time for the final attack on the Somme in 1916. On that day John’s grandfather was killed. The last letter from his wife, bloodstained, was taken by a comrade and sent home to Annie; and was shown to us by John whilst we wrote the book. That Dynamo Moscow game? John didn’t tell us if he dared to bunk school, but that game took place on the 29th anniversary of Pat’s death. On the same day, 13th November 1916, Sid Jerram was relieved to be wounded and taken prisoner. His war was over. He wasn’t going to die. Tomorrow will mark 102 years since that battle. Yesterday’s guests were not just invited to the game. Led by Director of Communications and PR, Steve Atkins, the club rolled out the red carpet. There were no media requirements or appearance duties for them. In Steve’s words, it was an act of remembrance on the clubs part and it would not have been right to use it for publicity. I wanted to write about their families though, and they were keen that I wrote this article. Clare said that she thought people ought to know what was done in memory of her ancestors and the other men commemorated by Chelsea. They were treated to pre match hospitality and a fantastic welcome from the club. Their seats were “amazing”, and the club helped me shift for the day to be with some of them close up to the home dugout. John was amazed at the speed of the game. He said he that remembered seeing Tommy Lawton just after World War Two, but that he wasn’t as quick. We did agree that the ball probably weighed half a stone back then. Roger has been away from the Bridge a long time too, and when The Liquidator started he said “God, they still play this!” As Steve reassured some of us later, that’s not going anywhere. Both were not happy to see that the away fans were in the shed. I reassured them that we moan about it constantly and that it’s all you-know-who’s fault. John’s wife Jan, who I had the pleasure of sitting next to as they held hands and watched the game, knows her football too. They keenly follow Chelsea from home. It was wonderful to see that no matter how long you are away, half an hour and all the passion comes flooding back. Jan was distinctly unimpressed with Everton’s lengthy “injuries.” As far as John is concerned, the ball went in the net. It was 1-0 and no linesman’s flag is going to tell him otherwise. On my other side, Roger was furious with Kevin (Not My) Friend blowing the whistle every time they fell over, and when they broke in injury time he blurted out “kill ‘im!” As an Evertonian went sprinting down the wing. Those of us that go week in week out always say that the football itself is such a small part of the day, that it’s not just about the result and that it’s about spending time with the football family that we’ve made for ourselves. This was never more true than yesterday. After the game Harry Trusler’s family joined us from their seats, as did Andrew and his wife and son from the Shed. (They deserved their day out as much as anyone, as I basically commandeered him for the entire centenary period and put him to work writing books with me) Chelsea could not have done more to make this day memorable for all involved. The families watched the manager’s post match comments, posed for memorable photos together on the pitch. They were joined variously by Gianfranco Zola, N’Golo Kante, Antonio Rudiger, David Luiz and Ross Barkley, who all made time for them. Andrew’s son Adam went from shaking with excitement to full-on teenage selfie mode. Then it was up to the director’s lounge for a champagne toast to William, Cecil, Harry, Pat, Sid and Bert. Their families had the opportunity to pose with trophies that those men never could have imagined when the war began and the club was a mere nine years old and more than forty years away from our first league title. Roger had mentioned earlier that His grandad and his great uncle were just twi of thousands, but as I told him yesterday they were representatives of all those affiliated with Chelsea who answered the club’s call 100 years ago. There were some tears yesterday, for those relatives that were lost; for those that survived, but bore obvious scars from their experiences, but I think also because the reception from the club in their memory was so overwhelming. But there were smiles too, at the thought of what they would have made of their descendants being guests of honour at their football club because of what they did. From start to finish the people that helped Andrew and I commemorate the contribution of Chelsea Football Club in the Great War in print were warmly welcomed by absolutely everyone they came into contact with. They won’t forget the experience, neither will we, and as Chelsea proved yesterday, neither will the club forget the sacrifices made a century ago in the Great War. AC If you want to learn more about the men mentioned, as well as dozens of others affiliated with Chelsea in WW1, the book is available on Amazon - Over Land and Sea: Chelsea FC in the Great War. Unfortunately, the CFC Battlefield Tour slated for next July, where we will visit their graves and talk about their experiences, sold out in pre-sale. If there is enough interest, Holmes and I may run it again. If you would like to go on a waiting list in case spaces come up next year you can email [email protected] ![]() Chelsea 3 Crystal Palace 1 Sunday 4th November 2018 16:00 In the News: Arsenal are just letting Ramsey go, which strikes me an singularly stupid. Either he and his agent have been making daft demands or they really are morons at the Emirates. We’re apparently so impressed with the form of Barkley and Loftus-Cheek in terms of our homegrown talent that were not interested anymore. I doubt we were in the first place. Speaking of Ruben, the Daily Fail’s Three Wise Men have been at it again. Redknapp: “So often I feel he is playing within himself at Chelsea.” Even if he had watched every second of RLC in action this season he has about three hours of football at most to have used to make this ridiculous, sweeping statement. And for ninety minutes of that he was scoring a hatrick. So he was hardly “within himself” then, was he? Bellend. More credible is the revelation that AC Milan are at their wits end with Bakayoko making silly errors. Sad to say it might be better if he makes another at the end of the season and gets lost on his way back to London. Stupidity and football. I know players aren’t renowned for being bright but Dubravka has gone above and beyond. He managed to chop at his own leg with an axe. By accident. Also, Sp*rs fans were ATTACKED coming out of West Ham say the Press Plebs, ATTACKED. They then added in small writing that they happened to be in the home end. Idiots. Speaking of them. Some of the delay in their stadium construction work was allegedly caused by Levy having concrete taken up because West Ham supporting workmen had put a load of their memorabilia underneath it. Fortunately, he is apparently unaware of the dozen Chelsea flags that have been stuffed inside steel tubing at Wait Hart Lane. Salah now claims that ever since he was ten he always had a plan to end up with the Red Scouse. What a load of b*llocks. And Madrid still without a manager. Conte asked for three years and to come in with five people. Quite rightly after they saw him go batsh*t crazy after nine months with us they were dubious. The Others: Liverpool could only manage a draw with the Goons. Somehow amongst all of this vomit-inducing, sycophantic dross that is force fed down our throats about how this could be their year, the Red Swarm have failed to notice that for this to happen they will surely have to start beating their near rivals. Özil. Highest scoring German in Premier League history apparently. God the rest must have been sh*t. On his Wikipedia page the intro says: “Considered to be one of the best players in the world.” By who? His mum? Proof yet again of what happens when you give fools access to the internet. Leicester won their first game since the horrific events of last weekend. Schmeichel was in tears, Vardy says it’s like losing a member of his family. And not to be dissuaded by any of the grief and anguish on display at this incredibly difficult time, Lee Probert booked Gray for celebrating by removing his shirt to display a message for their deceased chairman on an undershirt. Jesus wept. I bet he’s the referee that doesn’t get asked out for a drink by the other referees. He’s not invited to their Christmas party. Which is surely a really f*cking low rung on the social ladder. Newcastle got their first victory in the league this season, while United made a meal out of beating a flying Bournemouth, who are not only halfway to avoiding relegation already, but are still ahead of Chequebook Pulis and his divas and only four points off the Champions League places. Hurrah. Us: Barkley starts, both Kovacic and Ruben on the bench. Hazard fit enough to be used as a sub. We were condemning abusive Gary Cahill bashers on the radio on Friday. Christensen not even on the bench today, and clearly behind our Captain in the pecking order right now. Food for thought for the Twitterati. The Dane has got work to do so far as impressing Sarri is concerned. One could argue that if Zappacosta can get on the bench and you can’t, you really are in the doghouse. Them: Zaha answered questions as to his fitness by starting. When questioned, however, he could not tell anyone what the f*ck that was on top of his head. A fast start, almost resulted in a fine chance thanks to Willian on 1 minute but Palace looked equally as spritely. The whole of the first ten minutes was very open. A few issues with the accuracy of our passing and with Michael Oliver giving them free kicks for nothing. Is this the library? Sang the away fans. No, because if it was, you wouldn’t be here, because you’re from Croydon. 19 minutes and all of their forward effort resulted in a decent chance but the shot was hit way over the bar. Neither side had actually had registered anything on target yet. For our part, it was proving very difficult to get it in the box. 24 minutes and Morata almost got his head on a cross from the left but he was well marked. It looked, though, like we were finally getting a grip on the game with some sustained attacking. 28 there was a standing ovation for Morata after he got stuck right in to win a corner. Crowd fired up now, players fired up, Palace on the back foot and on the half hour up pops Morata with complete composure to stop it, turn, and slot it past Hennessy in the Palace goal. Thank f*ck for that. It was a different game now. Willian had another chalked off as offside on 34, Palace were at sixes and sevens. Barkley almost put a shot on the roof on 36, Morata headed one over the bar two minutes later. Still we pressed forward, but it was not to be before the break. We had worked our way into the game slowly. Palace hadn’t had a shot on target and had only had thirty percent possession but that makes them sound worse than they actually were. I feel sorry for them that just as they appear to have got their sh*t together a bit they have a harsh run of fixtures. Opening couple of minutes of the second half we kept giving the ball away, but it was in the act of trying to press quickly in the direction of goal, which I suppose it better than the tail end of Conte’s tenure when it was at the speed of Wayne Rooney and they all looked like they’d rather be in the pub. Second goal required as soon as possible tho please. Palace were operating mainly in their own half, which means of course they then went and scored. Just as we found out that Willian’s goal had actually been onside. B*llocks. Huge and sudden surge of Championship songs from the visitors. Even more b*llocks. Andros Townsend. I’d forgotten he even existed. Still, more than half an hour to play, if we can only do something with the sloppy passing. Urgh. Dear Eden, Please come on and save the day, love Alex. Sarri was jumping and down like a rabid, nicotine stained kangaroo on the touchline, players screaming at each other. Get it together Chels. Half chance from range by Willian on 59, but it went straight at the keeper. Then it was straight back down the other end and more panic attacks as we failed to close them down in and around the box. Save by Hennessy on 62 from yet another Morata effort. Is that Hazard stripping off? Asked Boycie. He was bent over at the time and I’d know that backside anywhere. It was indeed. On he came for Willian to a rapturous reception. Barkley had not sparkled today as he has of late, and at the same time he made way for Kovacic. It took them less than a minute to foul Eden. And less than a minute after that he sent in a winning ball from the free kick which allowed Morata to thump his second home from a narrow angle. Many, many voices singing “He scores when he wants.” Different side. Instantly. All Chelsea now. No more Championship songs. On 69 minutes our third came out of nowhere when the ball was slid into the box and found an unmarked Pedro Pony who battered it. “You’ve had your day out, now f*ck off home.” Tedious and unimaginative Maurizio song. Palace’s turn to shuffle their pack. Didn’t make a lot of difference, though they were still trying. We had settled having gone two clear, easing off on the intensity somewhat. Fabregas came on with ten minutes to go. A bit of a rest for Jorginho. We’ll just have one of those perfect balls forward to Eden to hammer this home please Cesc. Refwatch: Oliver. Tolerable. I suppose. Which is more than can be said for most of them. We could have had a fourth on 83 but the ball went straight across the face of goal. Morata had wandered into an offside position so that was the end of that. He got caught a few times today, but I would rather he was chomping at the bit to shoot and on a hatrick than looking like wanted to dig a hole on the halfway line and climb in it. All the fight had gone out of Palace now, unless your name was Kovacic. They seemed to have a lot of energy left for kicking him. We almost gave away a stupid goal in injury time, but got away with it. Morata could have had a hatrick at the last. We broke, Eden handed it to him on a plate, and then instead of keeping it simple and going around Hennessy, who came tearing out, he made a mess of it when he tried to dink it over him. Sigh. So: Very up and down today at times. We’d got along well enough without Eden the last couple of games, but it’s just so much sexier when he’s on the pitch. Second it is. Three teams unbeaten at the top after 11 games for the first time since 1978/79. Narrow, narrow margins this season. The fund for Christmas presents for the children in SW London who are victims of domestic violence and living in a shelter is once again up and running. All of the details are the same for returning donors, and if you need the details just hit me up on Facebook or twitter for them. If you like what you read here and want to chip in the odd gin to fuel my ranting or help with additional match tickets for cup games etc., please do consider dropping in on Patreon and becoming a blog patron. All of you are much appreciated. https://www.patreon.com/girlwholikesballs ![]() Chelsea 3 Frank Lampard’s Derby County™️2 Wednesday 31st October 2018 19:45 In the News: Ianni has received a £6000 fine for his celebration in front of Chequebook Pulis. I hope the club pay it in f*cking 1p coins. More reasons to laugh at Sp*rs lately. Their stadium still isn’t ready. Won’t be this year. When they do finally move in they reckon they will have lots to brag about. “Largest retail space of any club in Europe, you’ll never sing that.” It has been said by someone far more numerically minded than me that Levy has basically taken all the ST money up front, and is refunding it 1/19th at a time. “Let’s say that that’s an average of £500 back, times 40k... Sp*rs fans have lent him £20m on an interest free loan over six months.” Cheeky b*stard. Their attendance has dropped some 24,000 of late while they have been homeless. The pitiful nature of their existence was summed up while the scampered about a torn up pitch still plastered with NFL sh*t on Monday night. Still, City came out of it with the points but no moral high ground. Firstly, who in their right mind puts purple with orange, secondly, when you factor in that this means they were running about in f*cking Clemson colours they really are filth. #Gamecocks. The three wise men are at it again. Keown has come up with the revelation that Fernandinho is a git. Where the f*ck has he been for the last five years when he was hacking down the opposition like a possessed combine harvester on ketamine? Chris Sutton, on the basis of nothing at all but having to submit words to get paid, says that he thinks Podgettino would jump at the chance to go to Madrid. Jamie Redknapp was too busy accessorising his matching outfit for Sky tonight with everyone else in the studio to own any nonsense. P45 for whoever is in charge of wardrobe in West London. Thibaut concedes five in his El Clasico debut. Shame. The Madrid manager has gone after 139 days, after sacking off the national side, on the eve of the World Cup. Shame. Never underestimate how hilarious it is for everyone who doesn’t support a super-sized club when they fall flat on their face. Conte - apparently too many players don’t want our favourite unstable ex-manager and now Martinez is the favourite. Either way, I would hope that nobody on the shortlist is shiny enough to tempt Eden away. And it’s November, which means we’re back to James McLean and his lack of f*cking poppy. As someone who has drunk quite a lot of gin, and writes WW1 books for a living, and has been part of debates on the lack of appreciation for the southern Irish contribution to WW1 l, I could write paragraphs on why he is a c***. And pin him down and tattoo “Ginchy” on his massive forehead. But he is not worth my time. Ungrateful sh*tbag. The Others: Podge was set to change up to ten players tonight because he refuses to “jeopardise the welfare” of his squad. As if they’re the only ones with a relentless fixture list. It does, I suppose you could say if you were a massive cynic, which I am, give him an out for the inevitable point where they bottle it. Poor lambs. “They were tired.” Us: Kante, Little Willie and Morata are the only survivors. I think. But I’m quite p*ssed so don’t take my word for it. RLC rewarded for last week with a start. Them: Somewhat controversially Mount and Tomori. I couldn’t bear the whining if either of them cost us victory. If we can’t beat Derby County we don’t deserve to stay in the competition anyway. And so it was written in the stars. Or at least written in a shady memo at the FA prior to the draw which has now been shredded. Twice. Isn’t it funny how there has been an epic tv tie in every round so far? Huge reception, and rightly so, for Frank Lampard, though the fact that I could see his bald spot from the Shed depressed me. Seeing as I’m old enough to have had a schoolgirl crush on the pudgy-faced version of yesteryear. It was a fast paced start, with the first half-chance falling for Kovacic, (the only sap wearing gloves last night) but it wasn’t that exciting and he didn’t hit it on target. I make no judgement. Zappacosta was next, but bottled a challenge and it came to nothing. All of those who criticised us letting Tomori and Mount play were quickly silenced when the former scored our first goal for us, somehow back-heeling it into the net at the Shed End. Worst possible start for Derby right in front of their fans. Emerson was in again on 7 minutes but his cross was pants, and Willian followed this up with a shot that was shanked well wide. Derby were by no means being whipped though, they were in it as much we were, and got a deserved equaliser from Marriott less than five minutes after going behind. Deserved as in we didn’t do much to stop it. They carved us open, the away end went bonkers, Frank didn’t. Probably fair to level the score and start again after that unfortunate OG. Says the girl with more than 3.5 goals on her accumulator. On 13 minutes an awesome curving cross from Kante just failed to find Morata in the box. They should have been two up shortly after - it definitely shows that we’ve changed our entire back line. They were not finding it hard to find a way through it at all. Unfortunately for them they were not finding it hard to find the back of the wrong net either. Zappacosta announced as the scorer. My a*se. Took a massive deflection on the way in and we were ahead once again. One of our own players finally nearly scored for us on 22 minutes when RLC made a darting run into the box. The game was still being played at breakneck speed, and it was definitely too fast for Fabregas, bless him. Derby continued to press and we were undone again on 26 minutes. 2-2. It was going to be one of those nights, wasn’t it. “You haven’t scored” they were singing, to the tune of the Conte song. All over the place at the back. Gaping chasm, bigger than Katie Hopkins in mid-yawn, where Jorginho should be. They were first to everything, looked far more likely to score and we kept letting them take the ball off us. No Hazard to come on and The Beard has got the night off. Oops. I felt like I’d just been waterboarded for half an hour. Still, we wanted excitement. Thankfully by 33 minutes we’d settled down a bit, though we were squandering any chances. Then, who should pop up with what turned out to the the winner? Cesc, who until that point had been having an atrocious game, wound his way into the box and leathered it home with 40 minutes gone. There’s still some magic in him yet. And it ignited a much improved performance for the rest of the game. “We’ve scored a goal” we sang at the visitors. We’d spent much of that half being generally ridiculous. And yet we were winning. *shrugs shoulders.* It was a muted start to the second half, but we looked more organised. As in a there actually was some semblance of a plan, which had been lacking before the break. The crowd passed this quiet period with another Frank love-in. I love Frank. I do. His man-hug with Luiz at the final whistle brought a tear to my eye. But not when the game is still in the balance and he’s managing the other team. Speaking of David Luiz, he was warming up. Whichever centre back was about to get hooked for him, it was going to be a punch in the face. When’s the draw? says Mowgli (Special alias) Tomorrow morning at 3am on the Korean home shopping network, says I. It was Christensen that got hooked. Ouch. You don’t change a centre back unless one of them is at death’s door. In the meantime Derby were energetically seeking another equaliser. Not that this stopped them breaking on 67 minutes. Outstanding one on one save from Big Willy which just about went high enough to land in the roof of the net. RLC off for Pedro Pony. It had been a much tougher game for Ruben tonight, thought he did ok. Especially when he went down like a sack of bricks when Tomori barely touched him and won a free kick. Another wide effort from them on 71. Morata was caught offside shortly afterwards, I’ll be honest I had completely forgotten he was on the pitch by this point. To be fair though he fed off scraps tonight. End to end by this point, though they weren’t fashioning any real chances out of it. This game was by no means won, because though we had broken several times we hadn’t really looked like scoring either. Sarri went for insurance with the last sub, Dave on for Zappacosta. Derby’s energy levels still high. They had put in a commendable performance all evening. We came close to securing the result twice with ten minutes to go but still no cigar. Then the ball landed on Morata’s head at the near post, though he didn’t have a clue it was coming by the looks of it and couldn’t direct it. Two saves in a row by Big Willy. The tube station was closed. For no reason they would give. Please don’t inflict extra time on us, the journey home is going to be a big enough bitch. Every time we did get forward we were outnumbered, with the substitutions having veered towards the defensive. Two minutes to play and I hadn’t ruled out a heart attack They hit the post on 88, and it fortuitously bounced back out and into Big Willy’s arms. Three minutes of extra time to endure, and finally the away side were looking just a little bit leggy. Survive them we did, and then I was happy to join the Frank love-in. So: As exciting as we all hoped it would be. We remain undefeated despite our own best efforts. They both won and lost this game themselves while we bobbed about looking confused for the first half of it. Entertaining and chaotic, and thank god we came out on top. On the way out I heard one of them say. “It’s not fair, we didn’t even make a mistake.” No, aside from the two own goals. They did, however, look excellent value for a potential promotion side this season if they can keep that up. AC The fund for Christmas presents for the children in SW London who are victims of domestic violence and living in a shelter is once again up and running. All of the details are the same for returning donors, and if you need the details just hit me up on Facebook or twitter for them. If you like what you read here and want to chip in the odd gin to fuel my ranting or help with additional match tickets for cup games etc., please do consider dropping in on Patreon and becoming a blog patron. All of you are much appreciated. https://www.patreon.com/girlwholikesballs |
AuthorAlex Churchill Categories |