Giles Smith's Latest Thursday Thoughts...

[Butch]

[i always enjoy reading his essays. You can always rely on him to lift your spirits. This time, he has a few choice words, well, jabs, for City's manager, as well as for Liverpool:]

 

As the title race heats up, columnist and Chelsea fan Giles Smith comes to the defence of his team in the face of questions over its challenge…

'It would be very disappointing for football, for the fans, for everyone. I think the most attractive football, the most goals you can score, should be rewarded. Big teams must play as big teams.'

The words, there, of Manuel Pellegrini, regarding the still highly plausible prospect, with just four games to go, of Chelsea (rather than Manchester City or Liverpool) winning the league.

Disappointing for everyone, note - including, presumably, you and me. Well, I guess we'll just have to cope with that disappointment as manfully as we can, if it happens. You and I have coped with worse, I'm sure, than the disappointment of Chelsea winning the league. We'll find a way to deal with the worst of it. Of that I'm certain.

But what about Mr Pellegrini? How will he cope with his disappointment? And how will football cope? We're a big team but we don't play like one, is the City manager's argument. And we don't play like one because we don't score enough goals.

Now, I don't suppose anyone around here would claim that goals have always come easily to us this season. Except against Arsenal, of course. And Tottenham. And Manchester United. And Sunderland. And Cardiff. And Norwich. And West Ham. And Southampton, twice. And Newcastle. And Fulham. And Stoke. And Steaua Bucharest. And PSG. And Schalke, twice. To name only the games in which we have scored three goals or more.

Nevertheless, irrespective of our struggles in front of the posts, it's an odd view of football, isn't it, that Mr Pellegrini is offering here? One that seems to be saying that sheer quantity of goals is what it's all about. One that sets more store by, for example, a one-sided caning of Fulham than a carefully plotted, narrow victory over a fellow title-contender when it really matters.

On the subject of which, what about that performance of ours against City at the Etihad earlier this season? Looked like a big team playing like a big team to me. Looked like a big team really stepping up, actually. Same when we beat City again at home. Big as you like. Big as it gets, frankly. But not big enough for Mr Pellegrini's tastes, apparently.

And yet those two results are part of the reason City now find themselves third in the league and praying for favours from the humble likes of us - those two results and, of course, the recent defeat by Liverpool.

Now, if ever there was time for a big team to play like a big team, it was last Sunday at Anfield. Unfortunately, City didn't quite go big enough.

If ever there was another time for a big team to play like a big team, it was when City went to the Emirates a couple of weeks ago, charged with taking three points off an Arsenal side who were, at that point, not so much on the ropes as half hanging out of the ring. Unfortunately, City didn't quite go big enough.

If ever there was another time for a big team to play like a big team, it was when City were at home to Wigan in the quarter-final of the FA Cup. Unfortunately, they didn't quite go big enough.

If ever there was another time for a big team to play like a big team, it was when City faced Barcelona in the Champions League Round of 16. Unfortunately, they didn't quite go big enough. Twice.

Playing like a big team last night against Sunderland might have been quite a smart idea, too. But, once more, no.

In fact, over and over again this season, when it was time for City to play like a big team, they slightly underestimated the bigness required. I'm not saying they haven't scored lots of goals along the way, of course. But I am saying that they didn't necessarily score them when it really mattered.

Which is why the once bold talk of a possible quadruple now seems such a long time ago, and why Mr Pellegrini is now in the position in which he finds himself - needing a little team to do what his big team couldn't: get a result at Anfield, just to keep his title hopes anywhere near alive. (And ours even more so.)

Will we oblige? Will we big enough? Well, let's see.

And now there are just four games to go. For Liverpool, at any rate. For us, it's a minimum of six, with the magical possibility of a seventh, if the two Champions League semi-finals against Atletico Madrid go the right way.

But that's pretty much the story of the season, in a nutshell. Four games for Liverpool, six or seven games for us. Many have spoken about Brendan Rodgers' side as the season's dark horses; the season's lightly raced horses would surely be more accurate.

Liverpool went out of the Capital One Cup in the third round and the FA Cup in the fifth. They had failed to qualify for Europe. So, add those four cup matches to their 34 league games and you've got a season which has thus far seen Liverpool in action just 38 times.

We passed the 38-game mark more than two months ago, on the 11 February. We're now up to 51 in all competitions - 13 more matches than Liverpool, or just slightly more than a third of a league season. It's April for them, but, if we were playing at Liverpool's rate, we would already be quite deep into next November.

It's a method that has worked for that club before, of course. In 2005, you may dimly remember, they successfully took a season off to concentrate on winning the Champions League. This season, varying the theme, they have effectively taken a season off in order to have a stab at winning the Premier League.

And why not? 'One thing at a time' has always been good advice. It's not Chelsea's preferred way of going about things, of course - probably because we have a greater respect for the history of the competitions that we're involved in, and throw ourselves into them accordingly. However, that's just a cultural thing. The point is, one day Liverpool may muster the nerve and the ability to compete to the best of their ability across all platforms, as we invariably do. I, for one, look forward to seeing them do so.

Original link to this article (you can catch his columns on the official Chelsea site every week.): http://www.chelseafc.com/news-article/article/3771635/title/giles-smiths-thursday-thoughts

[chortle, chortle, snigger, snigger...]

Cheers,

Butch

[Zola]

A good one from Giles!

I find him hit or miss at times, that was a good one.

[AnIrishTrueBlue]

13 games more says it all. Its good to have a chelsea voice to read.

[Jonty]

Pretty much sums up what we've all been saying, albeit more eloquently and with less use of phrases like bin dipping c**ts.

[Zola]

Pretty much sums up what we've all been saying, albeit more eloquently and with less use of phrases like bin dipping c**ts.

HAHA

[Beerqueen]

I do like Giles Smith - he usually makes me smile.  Last week's one was good too

 

GILES SMITH: YEEEEEEEEEESSSSSS

Posted on: Thu 10 Apr 2014

While he waits eagerly to find out whether it is Atletico, Real or Bayern next, columnist and Chelsea fan Giles Smith writes with admiration and understanding for a special moment of athletic endeavour…

What a night - although I've got to confess that I missed the manager's big run at the point it happened. Like many in the stadium, I was a bit distracted at the time, mostly by jumping up and down and emitting strange, piercing noises over which I seemed to have no particular control.

 

I sit above the corner flag where the all-pile-on celebration of Demba Ba's goal took place (we get a decent share of goal-celebration action in that part of the ground, and we are always grateful for it) and the first I knew of the manager's presence was when I suddenly became aware of a figure in grey peeling Andre Schurrle off the player-pile and issuing an extended set of instructions into his ear.

 

It was only then that one realised the wisdom behind the manager's decision to wear a tracksuit on the night, rather than a suit with a coat. Traditional outerwear could have slowed his run by a factor of as much as seven, allowing for the drag coefficient and the wind conditions.

 

Really, one simply has to note the level of meticulous planning that goes on around this club these days, and the way that all possible eventualities are taken into account, and simply be amazed and glad.

 

What, I've been enjoying wondering, was in the manager's mind as he made that surge down the right wing in the closing minutes?

 

And what a surge it was - from a position deep in midfield all the way to the corner flag. Has the game seen a manager go faster for longer in the modern era? I would suggest not. Even managers running away from the threat posed by an angry Alan Pardew haven't touched those kinds of speeds over that kind of distance.

 

Indeed, official UEFA speed cameras clocked Mr Mourinho doing 84 mph in a 70 mph limit on Tuesday night. But it seems likely that the circumstances will be taken into account, sense will prevail, and the authorities will stop short of issuing an endorsement. Quite right too. (And do we trust UEFA speed cameras in any case?)

 

Anyway, the original question was: what was in the manager's mind? What was he thinking of as he sprinted the length of the touchline in a blur of grey sportswear?

I know, at least, what I was thinking of - and perhaps you, too. I was thinking, essentially, two things. Firstly,

 

a) Yeeeeeeeeeeeesssssssss.

And then,

b) Andres Iniesta.

 

Or, more specifically, the ball leaving the boot of Iniesta during the 2009 Champions League semi-final second leg against Barcelona at Stamford Bridge - the night we saw an almost perfectly executed game-plan get smashed into gruesome pieces by a dying-gasp goal.

 

On Tuesday, when Ba flung his shin, toe, knee, and several other related body-parts, into the six-yard box, there were still three minutes to go, plus anything added on (four minutes, if I remember rightly).

 

More than enough time, clearly, for some party pooper in a PSG shirt to ping one in from distance and then, after that, for the referee to turn down at least three stonewall penalty claims.

These are the things we have seen happen in this dearly beloved and yet frequently agonising competition. These are the memories which are hard-wired into our circuits, ready to crackle into life automatically when events dictate - such as on the occasion of an 87^th-minute goal in the second leg of a Champions League knock-out tie. And these are the realities that can bring a manager pelting half the length of the pitch with a bunch of urgent warnings in his mind.

 

That, plus of course, a) Yeeeeeeeeeessssss.

 

And so now we have the luxury of turning our attention to another Champions League semi-final.

 

The fans do, at any rate. I'm assuming the players merely have the luxury of turning their attention to Swansea away on Sunday afternoon. And that's the way it should be given that (and let's not forget this, amid all the other excitement) we have a decent chance of winning the league this season.

 

But we, at least, can amuse ourselves, just briefly, with the prospect of tomorrow morning's draw and what it might bring us.

 

Last night the competition said 'farewell and thanks for coming' to both Manchester United and Barcelona, and, surveying our prospects in the last four, I can't think that many of us will have been sad to see either of them get into their cars and pull off up the road.

 

Obviously, United, had they managed to pull off some kind of David Blaine-style escape stunt in Munich, would have represented a tempting 'soft-touch' option for the semis. So to that extent, I suppose, and because Bayern Munich clearly represent a far more substantial obstacle in our path to glory, one was sad to see United plucked from the competition like an unwanted eyelash.

 

On the other hand, drawing other English clubs in the Champions League always seems deeply disappointing and beside the point - the slightly deflating equivalent of booking a holiday in your own back garden.

 

Also, at this stage of the competition, surely, you're wanting to take on the very best that's out there rather than a side whose domestic campaign has long since come to resemble a plate of trifle in a hurricane and who were throwing everything into one last Champions League tilt out of desperation more than anything else.

 

As for Barcelona… well, I don't mean to seem spoilt, but would it be fair to say that, to some extent, we kind of feel we've… been there and done that?

 

I know that implying you are slightly tired of having to play Barcelona is pretty much the categorical definition of a first-world problem, and one which would find little sympathy among our brethren at, for example, Tottenham or West Ham. But what can I say? There it is.

 

The point is, though, the Champions League is, in essence, all about embracing the new and seeking fresh horizons. It's certainly not about going to Old Trafford. Nor, ideally, is it about going to the same place over and over again.

 

So, as it turns out, the draw couldn't be better set up, really. When the Kinder eggs of fortune come out of the salad-spinner of destiny tomorrow, bring on Real, Atletico or Bayern. It's all good.

[moi]

When the Kinder eggs of fortune come out of the salad-spinner of destiny tomorrow, bring on Real, Atletico or Bayern. It's all good.

 

Superb!!

[Bobbywoodhogan]

Great article