Slipperduke
The Camden Cad
Thanks guys, really glad you liked it! Here's the follow-up:
High up near the rafters of the Luzhniki Stadium, as the early morning rain washed away the tears of his expensively assembled superstars, the Super Tsar himself, Roman Abramovich, sat disconsolately wondering what might have been. The Russian gazzilionaire has always yearned for this trophy above all others, and he must have felt that it was his destiny to finally capture it in his home country. He will have watched enviously as Sir Bobby Charlton took the victors up the steps and, like the rest of us, he will have been confused as to what exactly Peter Kenyon was doing at the helm of his Chelsea team. More cynical men than myself would suggest that the two clubs were led by their respective avatars, the embodiments of the collective. Charlton, dignified and loyal. Kenyon, scheming and treasonous. But that isn't the case.
Abramovich is a very private man, but we do know a little of his sporting ideology. For all of his riches and power, he is a football romantic. He fell in love watching Real Madrid at Old Trafford in 2003, when they were beaten 4-3 on the night, but still prevailed on aggregate. He saw the United fans saluting Ronaldo, the old Ronaldo, after he put three goals past their team. He wanted a part of that magic. It hasn't quite turned out like that.
Rich men, when they run out of things to buy, seek approval and love above all else. Abramovich wants his team to be appreciated, like Barcelona, Real Madrid and, of course, Manchester United. He prizes the noble above the nefarious and it is no coincidence that the only two players he has been seen to publicly bond with are Frank Lampard and John Terry, the duo who best sum up the battling, English qualities of the team. The way he slumped back into his thick leather chair on seeing the pointless dismissal of Didier Drogba was reminiscent of the way he stormed out of the Villa Park director's box last September. Abramovich doesn't often show his emotions, so when they actually appear you have to take note.
Chelsea fans must now prepare themselves for widespread restructuring as they enter their sixth season of Russian ownership. Avram Grant, nice chap though he undoubtedly is, will return upstairs. He can be proud of the way he prevented the much anticipated post-Mourinho apocalypse, but it must be clear now that he is one of life's perpetual runners-up. Second in the league, second at Wembley, second here. Also, sad as it is that we must discuss it, in this global game, Chelsea need a manager who can deal with the media comfortably and who can be the public face of the team. Grant is not that man.
Players must leave as well. Didier Drogba would save everyone some time if he flew direct from Moscow to Milan. I'm sure the rest of the team would be only too happy to forward his post. Andriy Shevchenko, the world's most expensive unused substitute will join him, wondering why he ever left Italy in the first place. Paolo Ferreira, Shaun Wright-Phillips. Claude Makelele, the list will go on and on. No great team can last forever and if they plan to build a better future, they must first shake off the past.
Chelsea fans will feel crushed today, and understandably so, but all defeats are opportunities. The Mourinho era has been and gone, leaving trophies and memories in its wake. Now it is time for a new dawn. This is an opportunity for Abramovich to tear down the walls and start again. A chance for him to build the club he wants, the style of football he cherishes and to finally win the respect he craves.
High up near the rafters of the Luzhniki Stadium, as the early morning rain washed away the tears of his expensively assembled superstars, the Super Tsar himself, Roman Abramovich, sat disconsolately wondering what might have been. The Russian gazzilionaire has always yearned for this trophy above all others, and he must have felt that it was his destiny to finally capture it in his home country. He will have watched enviously as Sir Bobby Charlton took the victors up the steps and, like the rest of us, he will have been confused as to what exactly Peter Kenyon was doing at the helm of his Chelsea team. More cynical men than myself would suggest that the two clubs were led by their respective avatars, the embodiments of the collective. Charlton, dignified and loyal. Kenyon, scheming and treasonous. But that isn't the case.
Abramovich is a very private man, but we do know a little of his sporting ideology. For all of his riches and power, he is a football romantic. He fell in love watching Real Madrid at Old Trafford in 2003, when they were beaten 4-3 on the night, but still prevailed on aggregate. He saw the United fans saluting Ronaldo, the old Ronaldo, after he put three goals past their team. He wanted a part of that magic. It hasn't quite turned out like that.
Rich men, when they run out of things to buy, seek approval and love above all else. Abramovich wants his team to be appreciated, like Barcelona, Real Madrid and, of course, Manchester United. He prizes the noble above the nefarious and it is no coincidence that the only two players he has been seen to publicly bond with are Frank Lampard and John Terry, the duo who best sum up the battling, English qualities of the team. The way he slumped back into his thick leather chair on seeing the pointless dismissal of Didier Drogba was reminiscent of the way he stormed out of the Villa Park director's box last September. Abramovich doesn't often show his emotions, so when they actually appear you have to take note.
Chelsea fans must now prepare themselves for widespread restructuring as they enter their sixth season of Russian ownership. Avram Grant, nice chap though he undoubtedly is, will return upstairs. He can be proud of the way he prevented the much anticipated post-Mourinho apocalypse, but it must be clear now that he is one of life's perpetual runners-up. Second in the league, second at Wembley, second here. Also, sad as it is that we must discuss it, in this global game, Chelsea need a manager who can deal with the media comfortably and who can be the public face of the team. Grant is not that man.
Players must leave as well. Didier Drogba would save everyone some time if he flew direct from Moscow to Milan. I'm sure the rest of the team would be only too happy to forward his post. Andriy Shevchenko, the world's most expensive unused substitute will join him, wondering why he ever left Italy in the first place. Paolo Ferreira, Shaun Wright-Phillips. Claude Makelele, the list will go on and on. No great team can last forever and if they plan to build a better future, they must first shake off the past.
Chelsea fans will feel crushed today, and understandably so, but all defeats are opportunities. The Mourinho era has been and gone, leaving trophies and memories in its wake. Now it is time for a new dawn. This is an opportunity for Abramovich to tear down the walls and start again. A chance for him to build the club he wants, the style of football he cherishes and to finally win the respect he craves.