Stamford Bridge is falling Down...

Sunday after Thanksgiving was a big day, a double Derby day. Manchester in the morning, London in the later morning. I rose up, hung over from over-eating all weekend and over drinking all night, and went to meet Devo at the train. We rode down to Nevada’s and arrived at the end of the Manchester derby. The staff tried to basement us (bastards) so we went and got bagels while the game ended and the bar cleared out. We grabbed our normal spot at the bar, and watched the faithful roll in; the bar was already warm with the body heat of Man U supporters. The Chelsea fans came in, and started talking smack early on. We were worried, but not afraid. This would probably be the toughest game we had all year in the premiership, facing arguably the best team in England on their home turf. Pints in hand, we readied ourselves for the worst.

The first half gave us little hope. An own goal put us down 1 nil, and we were having a hard time finding the back of their net. Gallas had a kind of reverse Gallas game, where he was strong as a center back, but could not get those clutch goals he is so good at getting in big games. Even the return of Ade could get us nothing. The singing was also off. We had lots of supporters, but it was hard to unite the faithful into one clear song. Everyone seemed unfocused.

The second half, lady luck smiled on the boys in red and white. The linesman went out for a pint at the same moment that RVP slams one past Cech to tie the score. Devo is screaming, and thanking God there is no instant replay (hey, we have been screwed by the Linesman before, so I will take it). Mere minutes later, the flying Dutchman makes it a deuce to put us up. The faithful areoverwhelmed with joy. The singing is still disjointed, but the energy is up. And the most impressive thing, team Chelsea gets mighty quiet for about a half an hour. It is not until near the end of the game, where we ask if you can hear Chelsea sing (cause I don’t hear a fucking thing!) that they wake up, and cheer their team into a home loss. As the final whistle went out, Devo and I howled for five minutes after the match. The Captain’s sidekick (the skinny Asian kid who drinks all the sprites) rode the Captain like a donkey. The crowd was elated.

After the match, Devo and I had a celebratory round. We said goodbye to Dreads (who continues his tradition of a post-game ‘smoke’) and met the infamous PADWEA (whom Mark still believes does not exist). As it turns out, PADWEA is one of the founding members of The NY Gooners supporters club, so we owe much of this insanity to him. Good on ya PADWEA.

So the title is a possibility again, and more importantly, no annoying emails from my Chelsea supporting friends. What could be better then that.