cfcSchnapps

The Shed in all its glory, v Everton 78/79 lost 1.0, day of the High St Kent massacre.
 

Chelsea v City 1972 

Yes the football was very very good. They entertained us. With the rub of the green this team would have gone from strength to strength. You may remember Bolton collapsed at the end of 76-77 and let Forest in. Here is a "What If". What if "WE" had collapsed instead? Think what another year in the 2nd might have done for this team. Eddie Mac would have stayed and the young team would have had another year to train, gel and blend. We might have just gone on to be the team of the decade in the 80's. It wasn't to be of course. But seeing many of these games again for the first time since they were played brings it all back. I even remember my home journey to Petts Wood. Fulham Broadway about 5 pm and arrive at Victoria for the 5.42. Back home about 20 past six in time for me mum's 2 giant sausage rolls with chips and beans. Saturday Night in front of the TV, Generation Game, The Cilla Black Show, The Sweeney and then "Match of The Day" at 10 pm. Sunday mornings over the park with the local lads. Roughly ten-a-side with jackets as goalposts. First to ten won. A litlte chat about the football and then back to Sunday joint and "The Big Match".
But throughout this era there was an underlying dream. Not of Premier league and foriegn players and sitting in stadiums with people claiming to support Chelsea who didn't really give a toss. Not even of winning the First Division. And not (God given the chance) to take the end at West Ham or Millwall and run their home fans rugged. No; the dream of these days was to stand at Wembley with my father who came from Roehampton and had bought me up on Chelsea. I wanted and dreamed of us standing there at the Tunnel End side by side. Year after year throughout the 70's this dream was shattered. But each year come January I believed, I yearned and I prayed. Just to stand there at Wembley. I used to think of the lyrics in "If I were a rich man" and my version was "Would it spoil same vast incredible plan if we made the cup final?". It was ALL I wanted. One day, I thought, one day, we could be there, the Chelsea manager would lead the team out, 11 Chelsea men would follow proudly out onto Wembley's hallowed turf. We'd cheer, we'd sing and we'd smile at each other. To see 11 blue heros at Wembley in May. The band would pick their instruments. The crowd would fall silent. Then building up slowly we'd sing, we'd sing:
ABIDE WITH ME; fast falls the eventide;
The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide;
When other helpers fail and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, oh, ABIDE WITH ME.
Swift to its close ebbs out life’s little day;
Earth’s joys grow dim, its glories pass away;
Change and decay in all around I see—
O Thou who changest not, ABIDE WITH ME.
I need Thy presence every passing hour;
What but Thy grace can foil the tempter’s pow’r?
Who, like Thyself, my guide and stay can be?
Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, ABIDE WITH ME.
I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless;
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness;
Where is death’s sting? Where, grave, thy victory?
I triumph still, if Thou ABIDE WITH ME.
Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes;
Shine through the gloom and point me to the skies;
Heav’n’s morning breaks, and earth’s vain shadows flee;
In life, in death, O Lord, ABIDE WITH ME.
Each year it seemed possible. I remember dancing with my father in the Shed End when Langley banged that 3rd one in against Liverpool on 7th January 1978. We were leading 3-0, Liverpool were the Gods of football and European Champions (read World Champions) which meant anything was possible. That dream, as all others, died at home to lowly Orient on 27th Feb (3 days after my father's 50th). Two years later it was Wigan at home on 14th January, we lost 1-0 having just slaughtered Newcastle 4-0 in the league 2 days previously. Well there's always next year! Always! Always? - Tragically it was not to be. The day after Preston away in April my father died suddenly and unexpectedly on 13th April. I was 18. The dream was over. (Earth’s joys grow dim, its glories pass away) Never would we and never could we stand together at Wembley and sing Abide With Me. I continued on flying the flag and didn't miss a match home or away for a few more years. But I could not take it any more living so close with so much pain. I emigrated to Sweden and have lived here ever since.
If you have not lived through these days I fail to see where any genuine Chelsea passion can come from. Eddie Mac's videos have bought it all back. I have relived these moments again for the first time since these games were played. I have the knowledge that in many of these games I was there with my Dad - in the Shed. Oh for the Carefree days of innocent youth and childhood dreams. Abide with me boys, abide with me and my dreams of what might have been. I have shed many tears in these last few days looking at footage I had never even considered the possibilty of seeing again. Abide with me - but it's taken an outer shell off of me and cut to the bone of genuine feelings of love and..... and nothing, genuine feelings of love. That suffices.
In love and in life abiding with all feelings, all defeats, all victories for those alive and those blue fans who now stand proudly in the Shed End in the sky - We'll meet again! - And Dad - get me a bag of Monkey Nuts at half-time will you?