Young Chelsea makes me miss the old Blues
IT IS hard being a Chelsea supporter at the moment.
Although one of the most successful clubs in world football in recent years, there is always some smarmy Manchester United supporter, or sarcastic Gunners’ fan and Liverpool over-enthusiast that lifts their brow in suspicion when you admit to following the Blues.
Admittedly, being a Chelsea fan means you get to now do the same to those who profess their love for Manchester City – like, where the hell did they come from? And why suddenly now when the going is so good, with quadruples staring them in their faces every season? Have they only now peeled out of the woodwork with their smugness?
Ridiculous! It could be worse. I could be a Tottenham fan …
But I digress. As much fun as it is to poke the bear and stir a bit of banter, I must admit I am finding it hard to like the current Chelsea side.
The latest histrionics from the team has left a disgruntled expression plastered on my face whenever I think of it.
Since Todd Boehly and his consortium took over ownership of the club, there has been little to cheer about; and when there has been, for example, the most recent 6-0 smearing of Everton, controversy doesn’t seem too far off.
Chewing the Toffees in such a manner that they were near unrecognisable on Monday night should have been a moment to celebrate and, perhaps, even do a bit of introspection among the players and management as they come to appreciate that if they stick to their gameplan and systems, then they could be one helluva outfit.
Instead, the victory was marred by the worst kind of petulance, and the clearest indication that the team is just not mature enough to be a threat to anyone.
Get under their skin, apply the right pressure to the correct node, use the correct leverage during a highstakes encounter and their mental fortitude or egos would undo them.
The unsightly argument during the match between Nicolas Jackson, Noni Madueke, Malo Gusto, Thiago Silva, captain Conor Gallagher and Cole Palmer over who was to take the penalty at that moment – victory secured, threats nullified and all protocols observed – was unnecessary after a brilliant display.
It reveals that not only does coach Mauricio Pochettino have to plan and execute tactics, but also play dad to a bunch of men-children who cannot appreciate that the club is bigger than their self-importance.
I know it sounds like I should be sitting on the porch of my house in a rocking chair, a shotgun across my lap, a straw hat shading a bad-tempered look while I chew on a toothpick, a Keep off the Grass sign firmly planted in the front yard and my fist ready to angrily shake at anyone who dares trespass, but that is the disappointment I cannot hide at the unfolding of this season.
After all, and unlike the team, I am closer to the Chelsea’s other moniker, that of Pensioners.
While the elder Millennial barks within me, harking back to the glory days of Didier Drogba, Michael Essien, Frank Lampard et al, I will freely admit that I watch the current Chelsea through gritted teeth. I find myself unexcited about their future prospects.
After the Everton fiasco, Pochettino admitted that he would have to admonish his players. “I told them,” he said, “it’s the last time I want to see this kind of behaviour.”
Blues fans the world over certainly will hope that is the case, and that the players grow up fast.