Chelsea 1 - 1 Charlton
This was a game I had
to watch late last night, even though it was a very
early start this morning. But it doesn't matter. I've been smiling all day because we didn't lose
Football fans worldwide (and soccer fans Stateside) will know of the many millions of dollars ~ or is that roubles? ~ invested in Chelsea by Roman Abramovich. Fewer of you are interested in 'plucky' little Charlton, and why should you be when their entire squad has been assembled for less than the so-called value of just one of Chelsea's millionaire stars?
The preamble to the game was all about how many goals Chelsea would score and, to be honest, this seemed justified watching the first half. It was poetry in motion, with inch perfect passes, scintillating positional play and quite astonishing, almost showboating, skills. Yes, money can buy a Premiership title or two.
Chelsea hadn't dropped any points at home since last season and had only lost at home once, to Charlton it must be said
, in something which used to be the League Cup or the Milk Cup or, as now, the Carling Cup. I prefer Bintang and that's what I stayed with to drown my sorrows, especially after we had fallen behind after our goalkeeper fumbled and they were one up.
Mind you, Charlton didn't exactly sit back and admire their better paid opponents like those of us glued to our TV screens. But it did seem as if Charlton were only trying to keep the score down to respectable proportions, something like 7 - 0.
Come the second half, it was a different matter. Bent scored. It wasn't Darren, whose prolificacy has caught the eye of Sven Goran Erikson, the England manager noted for the good things in life. Nope, it was our new signing Marcus who, after a good through ball from Darren, Ambrose that is, headed the ball over Peter Cheque (spelling?)
into the Chelsea goal. And all without actually looking, which was either a demonstration of sublime skill or sheer luck.
No matter. We were level and there was only half an hour to go. Only? It was edge of the seat of the pants stuff from then on. They could have and should have scored and we could have and should have scored. But didn't. Charlton demonstrated the sheer guts and solid team work that the fans expect and Chelsea, their manager and owner included, began to look increasingly frazzled.
Four minutes of added time ~ why so much? ~ and with loud whoops it was time for me to slumber happily in dreamland.
We got what we deserved. And so did Chelsea.