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We didn't get a TV until the mid-60's, and the first match I ever remember seeing was the 1966 World Cup Final in the front room of our place in Worthing (we lived there for about three years after leaving London). I also remember watching the Chelsea v Spuds FA Cup Final in 1967, a really dull game and such a disappointment! I'd followed Chelsea's results for quite a while, but this was the first full match I saw Chelsea play, albeit on TV. My Uncle Pete had given me loads of old Chelsea programmes which I treasured, reading them from cover to cover many times, and so my appetite was whetted well before the Final.
Pretty soon I was pestering my dad to take me to Chelsea (he'd already tried taking the easy option of taking me to a Brighton game in the hope of placating me, much nearer geographically but obviously with no success). But then we moved down to Cornwall, about 300 miles away from Stamford Bridge! I really thought I'd never get to see Chelsea then, but happily my grandparents still lived in South London and we drove up to visit them every now and again - nine bleedin' hours it took, nightmare! It was on one of these visits that my dad finally relented and told me he'd take me to see Chelsea if I behaved myself in the meantime - needless to say I was an absolute angel from that moment on
It's a strange thing that I'll always remember my first match, though I don't remember a thing about the game itself!
It was 26th August 1967, a month after my 10th. birthday - a lovely sunny day. We got in the car, (a Vauxhall Victor estate with bench seat in the front, lovely big old motor) and set off from Mitcham. I've still got vague memories of us going through Tooting Broadway and crossing the Thames via Wandsworth Bridge before parking in Bagleys Lane near Fulham Power Station. Needless to say, I'd been craning my neck out of the window ever since closing the car door, trying to see the floodlights. Think I finally saw them as we hit Wandsworth, but I can't be sure!
I can't really explain the excitement adequately - this was the most important day of my life so far as I was concerned, and to say I was thrilled would be a huge understatement. After parking the car, we made our way through the streets towards the ground - sometimes as we'd turn a corner I'd get a tantalising glimpse of the floodlights, much closer now. The nearer we got, the more crowded the streets became, and then all of a sudden we were on the Fulham Road! There were dodgy looking geezers selling scarves, rosettes and badges, the programme sellers were doing a roaring trade, and the smell of fried onions was heavy on the air. My dad refused to buy me a hot dog or hamburger, and I thought he was a tight old git, but years later I fully understood why and to this day I'm grateful to him for that. Strange how something that smells so appetising can taste so bad, and have such a devastating effect on your guts - but that's another story!
When we got to the North Terrace entrance, the turnstile operator got me to jump over the turnstile, and my dad followed me into the ground. We walked right up the long slope to the back of the North End terrace, and then all of a sudden the pitch and stadium were in view for the first time. I spent ages taking everything in - to my left, the North Stand looked a bit ricketty, and next to that the old East Stand ran the length of the pitch. Opposite that was the fairly new West Stand, looking ultra modern compared to the rest of the ground, but I was captivated by the terrace at the other end of the ground. Loud singing was coming from over there, underneath what I instinctively knew was 'The Shed'. I'd seen grafitti all over South London proclaiming 'Shed', or 'Chelsea Shed', and it was clear that this was the place! My dad wouldn't take me down the Shed End, and instead left me at the front of the North End terrace peering over the high white wall at everything around me, before going back up the terrace. I vowed there and then that as soon as I came to Chelsea without my dad that I'd go in the Shed end!
The noise when the teams came out was tremendous, and the Chelsea players looked so smart in their kit of royal blue, with just the lion rampant badge on the shirt, and wide white stripe and number on the shorts. We wore blue socks that season, but you can't have everything! The opponents that day were Fulham, and they took the pitch in their drab white shirts and black shorts - even then I recognised that these were our shabby neighbours
Tommy Docherty was still Chelsea manager at that time, and he'd just sold Tony Hateley to Liverpool as Peter Osgood had supposedly recovered from his broken leg of the previous season. The teams that day: -
Chelsea - Peter Bonetti, Marvin Hinton, Jim Thomson, Colin Waldron, Ron Harris, John Hollins, Peter Osgood, Johnny Boyle, Charlie Cooke, Tommy Baldwin, Bobby Tambling. Sub. Peter Houseman (for Osgood)
Fulham - Ian Seymour, George Cohen, John Dempsey*, Stan Brown, Brian Nichols, John Conway, Johnny Haynes, Mark Pearson, Les Barrett, Allan Clarke*, Terry Parmenter.
* Yes, the same Allan Clarke who later went on to make his name at Leeds. And yes, John Dempsey was playing against us that day - he didn't sign for Chelsea until January 1969. And yes, the same Les Barrett whose brother lived round the corner from my grandparents
As I said earlier, I don't remember a thing about the game, but the final score was 1-1 - Tommy Baldwin gave us a first half lead, but Stan Brown equalised in the second period. The attendance that day was 38,404, which was about average for that time.
This was our third game of the season, having already won at WBA and drawn at home to Newcastle. Four days after this game though, we lost 1-5 at Newcastle, but even so I pestered my dad to take to the home game against Southampton the following Saturday before we returned to Cornwall.
I've got mixed feelings about that match - Southampton beat us 6-2, with their big Welsh centre-forward Ron Davies getting four goals, and Martin Chivers (pre-y*d) getting the other two. On the brighter side I got to see my first Peter Osgood goals, one of them a true gem - he dribbled the length of the pitch and beat just about every Southampton player before putting the ball in the net
Despite the fact I still hadn't seen Chelsea win, I was well and truly hooked. We visited my grandparents again in November, and my dad took me to Craven Cottage to see us draw 2-2 with Fulham (my first Charlie Cooke goal!), but that was to be my last game of the season. In the winter I wrote to Chelsea asking them to send me some programmes for the current season, enclosing a postal order for ten shillings. Eventually they sent me a large envelope with ten pristine programmes enclosed - I was in heaven!
Imagine my feelings the following summer when my parents announced that we were moving back to London! I was gutted in a way, as I loved Cornwall, but the opportunity to watch Chelsea every other week totally eclipsed any other feelings - I was on my way to becoming a Chelsea regular!
Bloody hell, I just previewed this post - didn't realise I'd rambled on for so long. Apologies to all!
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My first introduction to all the songs that were sung, aaahhh bliss. The match ended 1-1, but for the life of me I can't remember who scored for Chelsea. We had a hamburger during halftime, which made us feel a bit nauseous afterwards. 
