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5 Years


Mr Chelsea

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The five years have flown by under Roman rule and I am sure it is true to say that we supporters have seen more beneficial changes to the club in that time than during any other period in our history. Not that the churlish ‘in my day’ fans will be entirely convinced, nor the queue of jealous critics that will forever stretch themselves around the block, screaming their heads off at the unfairness of it all. A combination of the two, though with no allegiance to the Chels, is found in the rumpled Rod Liddle of the Sunday Times who never misses an opportunity to take an inverted snobbery swipe at Roman and his millions, when everybody knows he wouldn’t turn down funding for a much needed Millwall makeover, be it in roubles, dollars or good old fashioned coin of the realm.

See how easy it is to drift into the one irritating area of the Abramovich era? Okay, I know that many of us are, but you do have to be fairly thick skinned to have taken the constant barrage of resentment over the last five years, from opposition fans and Media alike. The Roman road has been long and winding although, contrary to the mass of unfavourable press reporting we’ve endured, it ain’t been heavy and, truth be known and admitted to by all, whilst he ain’t our brother either, we all regard Roman as family now and secretly hope and pray that he might really turn out to be a long lost one.

With these thoughts in mind, imagine my joy at finding the perfect riposte to the jealous, churlish, hypocritical snipers, buried deep in Martin Samuel’s Monday morning musings in The Game (The Times 30/6/08). Wrapped up in a dig at Karl-Heinz Rummenigge and his idiotic pronouncement that football is sick because 85% of clubs are running at a loss and the solution should be that wages should not exceed 55% of turnover, Samuel cuts to the chase by pointing out that such a rule would [conveniently] not affect Bayern or ManU, but Chelsea…well they are a different matter, aren’t they? And here is what he goes on to say about CFC under Roman - feel free to memorise it, or cut and paste it, to bring out when you are next challenged about our history, buying the Premiership, being an enemy of football, or whatever. For me personally, it sums up everything I’ve always wanted to say, but couldn’t conjure up when the need arose. See what you think….

“Chelsea’s wage bill is 70% of turnover because the club are waiting to grow in size commercially. Until then, their ambition is financed by Roman Abramovich, the owner. This is every supporter’s dream - a rich man comes along and elevates your club. In time, if Chelsea are successful, the ledger will balance and the share of the turnover taken up by wages will decrease., and then there will be another presence in the already overcrowded elite [sardonic reference to Bayern and ManU’s situation].

That is what Rummennigge [insert ‘you’ or name of person ’aving a go at you here] fears, really. He does not want to save football, he wants to save the establishment from upstart interlopers with a few quid. If he gets his way there can be no surprises, no fairytales [no chance for Millwall, then Rodders]. A Russian billionaire could not invest in his local club in Moscow. In England, Chelsea would always be mid-table and United and Arsenal would be the only clubs with access to the best players. All bar a privileged few would operate in shackles.

To dress this up as a moral crusade is the worst hypocrisy: it is protectionism, nothing less.â€

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It's been some 5 years. I don't agree with some of the decisions Roman has made (Jose) and the policies the club has followed in certain situations (transfer policy) but the fact of the matter is that we might not even exist if Roman had not come in and invested in us.

We've ruffled some feathers along the way (as you mentioned Dorset) but I feel a large degree of it is jealousy at the fact that we have upset the established order.

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I think the 'lows' can easily be discounted as they only occured due to highs that were thanks to Roman.

Here's a thought....

How different would it have been under Captain Birdseye - AKA Master Bates?

Have a look at Leeds now and you've probably got your answer.

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It was cold and it rained, and I felt like an actor,

And i thought of Ma, and I wanted to get back there,

Your face, your race, the way that you talked

I kiss you you're beautiful, I want you to walk

Says it all really.

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It was cold and it rained, and I felt like an actor,

And i thought of Ma, and I wanted to get back there,

Your face, your race, the way that you talked

I kiss you you're beautiful, I want you to walk

Says it all really.

Errr...

Does it?

;) :blink: :blink:

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There probably wouldn't be a Chelsea

Jeez Qaz...CHILL!!! ;)

I feel we would be like Villa now. Above midtable and with yankie owners.

So Jose, Robben, Ballack etc all would not have happened and Carlton Cole could well still be at the club...after all he is CURRENTLY with a midtable London outfit isn't he.

:blink:

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now theres a thought not worth entertaining

life without a chelsea would be no life at all

Indeed it would.

So lets say, for arguements sake, Roman never came along and Chelsea ceased to exist. Would you have chosen another team to support?

To be honest, I don't know if I could have. The attachment I have to the club is special and I don' think I could ever have such an attachment with another club. The club I probably would have gone for would have been Crystal Palace. It's local and a few of my mates support them and from what I hear the atmosphere down there is really good.

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Indeed it would.

So lets say, for arguements sake, Roman never came along and Chelsea ceased to exist. Would you have chosen another team to support?

i dont think so

i live 15 minutes walk from port vale, so i would probably go and watch them more often, i occasionally go now

but in all honesty, without roman stepping in 5 years ago, i still think we would exist. we may have done a leeds and gone spiraling down and ended up in the blue square (tickets would be easier to get hold of :unsure: ) or something daft like that, but we would still have a chelsea

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It was cold and it rained, and I felt like an actor,

And i thought of Ma, and I wanted to get back there,

Your face, your race, the way that you talked

I kiss you you're beautiful, I want you to walk

Says it all really.

I’ll see your five years of Bowie, Mike, and I’ll raise you a…

Some of these days, and it won’t be long

Gonna drive back down where you once belonged

In the back of a dream car twenty foot long

Don’t cry my sweet, don’t break my heart

Doing all right, but you gotta get smart

Wish upon, wish upon, day upon day, I believe oh lord

I believe all the way

:unsure:

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Errr...

Does it?

I think I saw you in an ice-cream parlour, drinking milk shakes cold and long

Smiling and waving and looking so fine, don't think

You knew you were in this song ...

We've got Five years, my brain hurts a lot

Five years, that's all we've got

:unsure: :blink: :blink:

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I’ll see your five years of Bowie, Mike, and I’ll raise you a…

Some of these days, and it won’t be long

Gonna drive back down where you once belonged

In the back of a dream car twenty foot long

Don’t cry my sweet, don’t break my heart

Doing all right, but you gotta get smart

Wish upon, wish upon, day upon day, I believe oh lord

I believe all the way

:unsure:

Straight back atcha....

Well, on the street where you live I could not hold up my head

For I put all I have in another bed

On another floor, in the back of a car

In the cellar of a church with the door ajar

Well, I guess we must be looking for a different kind

But we can't stop trying 'til we break up our minds

'Til the sun drips blood on the seedy young knights

Who press you on the ground while shaking in fright

I guess we could cruise down one more time

With you by my side, it should be fine

We'll buy some drugs and watch a band

Then jump in the river holding hands

I challenge you to find more sordid, degenerate and visceral poetry in rock.

I feel dirty now!

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The Width of a Circle ...

I see what you mean...

He swallowed his pride and puckered his lips

And showed me the leather belt round his hips

My knees were shaking my cheeks aflame

He said "You'll never go down to the Gods again"

(Turn around, go back!)

He struck the ground a cavern appeared

And I smelt the burning pit of fear

We crashed a thousand yards below

I said "Do it again, do it again"

(Turn around, go back!)

His nebulous body swayed above

His tongue swollen with devil's love

The snake and I, a venom high

I said "Do it again, do it again"

(Turn around, go back!)

Breathe, breathe, breathe deeply

And I was seething, breathing deeply

Spitting sentry, horned and tailed

Waiting for you

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

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Straight back atcha....

Well, on the street where you live I could not hold up my head

For I put all I have in another bed

On another floor, in the back of a car

In the cellar of a church with the door ajar

Well, I guess we must be looking for a different kind

But we can't stop trying 'til we break up our minds

'Til the sun drips blood on the seedy young knights

Who press you on the ground while shaking in fright

I guess we could cruise down one more time

With you by my side, it should be fine

We'll buy some drugs and watch a band

Then jump in the river holding hands

I challenge you to find more sordid, degenerate and visceral poetry in rock.

I feel dirty now!

Frankly, Mike, where the Chels is concerned there is no way I could, or would wish, to trade such lyrics with you, but if you’d like a lyrical insight into how I think our views differ on the Abramovich years, here’s John Masefield to strut his stuff on my behalf. The first two stanzas represent the cargo Roman has brought to our shores and the last is what we had before he arrived.

Quinquireme of Nineveh from distant Ophir,

Rowing home to haven in sunny Palestine,

With a cargo of ivory,

And apes and peacocks,

Sandalwood, cedarwood, and sweet white wine.

Stately Spanish galleon coming from the Isthmus,

Dipping through the Tropics by the palm-green shores,

With a cargo of diamonds,

Emeralds, amythysts,

Topazes, and cinnamon, and gold moidores.

Dirty British coaster with a salt-caked smoke stack,

Butting through the Channel in the mad March days,

With a cargo of Tyne coal,

Road-rails, pig-lead,

Firewood, iron-ware, and cheap tin trays.

Now I know that you prefer to bang the drum [or cheap tin tray] for the past, especially in adversity, but isn't it time to face the fact that our future is in finery and be pleased about it? After all is said and done we are not looking back on five years of ugly Industrial Revolution and maybe we should stop wallowing in pig-leaded nostagia.

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