Dave’s Ramblings – Fulham
It has been a mere 92 days since we walked out of the Stadium of Light. We left questioning our life choices and vowing never to let Chelsea ruin another weekend. Now the points have been reset to zero and here we are, willingly signing up for it all over again.
After a collection of largely meaningless friendlies played in far-flung countries, at inconvenient hours and probably sponsored by an international noodle company, the real football is back. That means we’re allowed to dream again. The slate is clean, optimism has returned once more.
There’s also a new man in charge: Xabi Alonso. Young, relatively inexperienced as a coach, but already with a record of winning things which, after last season, feels like an unnecessarily extravagant qualification.
It feels ridiculously odd to be starting our season on a Monday night, particularly when we’ve got to play Luton Town on Thursday. In fairness that shouldn’t be much of a test. Trouble is I’ve supported Chelsea far too long to say something like that, without immediately checking the location of the nearest piece of wood!
This game, as always, was Fulham’s World Cup final. The rest of their season is little more than admin to them. They could lose 6–0 at home to Coventry and barely blink, but put eleven Chelsea shirts in front of them and suddenly they’re Brazil 1970.
For Fulham, the only matches that truly matter are the ones against Chelsea. Beat us and they’ll still be talking about it when the Thames finally floods the Riverside Stand. Lose, and they can return to their natural role as our pleasant little neighbours who help keep the property prices up.
As it’s the first away game of the season, it’s on a Monday night and we have no European trips to look forward to, we decided to stay over. In sunny Wimbledon, of all places.
It’s not quite Baku, Paris or Milan, but beggars can’t be choosers. There’ll be no passports, foreign currency or frantic dash through airport security, just an Oyster card, a Travelodge and the distant possibility of spotting a Womble.
European football may have deserted us, but the John Terry’s Barmy Army international travel department refuses to be beaten. Tonight, southwest London; tomorrow, the world or possibly a replacement bus service.
I really enjoyed the match, well most of it! The result showed that we are still very much a team with lots to learn. The players have already mastered the ability to grind down the nerves of the supporters however! Alonso’s first outing as manager featured defending so terrible it should have come with a parental warning. But it also confirmed that, with Palmer, Pedro and Rogers up front, we are capable of hurting anyone. That also includes, quite regularly, ourselves. One thing is certain: life is not going to be dull this season!
It is obvious that there is still plenty of work to do before ordering the open-top bus. The defending was less title challengers and more three strangers trying to assemble a wardrobe without the instructions. Even with the enormous Lacroix stationed in the middle of the back three, Fulham repeatedly wandered through as though they had been given the Wi-Fi password and a spare key.
As much as I love Reece, on this performance Lacroix is definitely a captain in the making. He has presence, confidence and isn’t shy to tell others what to do.
Robert Sánchez’s attempt to prevent Josh King scoring Fulham’s first was shocking. In truth the word ‘attempt’ is hugely overstating it. Sánchez seemed to approach the situation like a man watching somebody else’s suitcase disappear around the airport carousel: concerned, slightly bewildered, but ultimately unwilling to get involved. It did little to silence those of us who believe we desperately need a new No. 1. On this evidence, a traffic cone might at least have offered some resistance.
Alonso refused to blame Sánchez individually, insisting the entire team had to defend better as a collective. I think this was diplomatic Spanish for: ‘Yes, I saw it too, but I’ve only just got here so give me a chance.’
He also described the performance as ‘mature,’ presumably in the sense that it aged all of us there by about fifteen years!
This game was the Premier League at its chaotic best: wild, relentless and occasionally brilliant, with moments of genuine quality immediately followed by mistakes so inexplicable that even the players responsible appeared to be waiting for a replay to discover what on earth they had done.
My takeaways…
The new reign started well, certainly in terms of the result. Ultimately that’s the only thing that really matters.
The team felt different, playing with a freedom that has been missing for a very long time.
We are a work in progress, but I walked away more than happy with the majority of this performance.
I’ve no doubt that Mike Pinders will start the game on Thursday. Sánchez must realise that his days as number one are at an end. It’s simply a question of whether Pinders is the one able to take on the role.
My biggest gripe of the night was the booing of Enzo by some of our fans.
I understand that a number of people don’t like him. Fine. You don’t have to sing his name, applaud his every touch or have his face tattooed across your chest. But booing a player wearing Chelsea blue is never acceptable. That is the opposition’s job and, judging by some of our defending, they’re already receiving quite enough assistance from us.
No doubt some of you will strongly disagree with me on this. But for as long as he remains our player let’s just get off his back.
Pictures from the match can be found here;
