First of all thanks to BC for inviting me to contribute the occasional article over here. It’ll be nice to get a different audience’s perspective on my sometimes brutally honest views on what’s happening with my beloved Chelsea.

I’ve been a fan for 37 years now, since the epic finals between us and Leeds in 1970. If nothing else that shows that I’m growing nicely into the grumpy old git role so befitting us men as we enter our middle ages and the world accelerates out of our grasp. I’m now a proud season ticket holder for 3 years now after years of having to forego this pleasure due to being on call or on shift. This year I’m in the Matthew Harding Lower, next year Matthew Harding Upper.

Once upon a time in a far away land, an Emperor was crowned and took his position as the ruler of this cosmopolitan land. But he was vain and arrogant and he cared for nothing but exquisite new clothes……..and there the similarity ends. Avram Grant, as we can all see, patently has no taste in clothes! No, the metaphor here is that like the Emperor, he is trying to hoodwink all of us Chelsea fans into believing that under his tutelage we are now playing a different brand of football to the previously petulant, cheeky, but brilliant upstart José Mourinho. The tone of his spouted beliefs, and that from the club hierarchy is also along the lines that if we, the average punter fans can’t see this miraculous change then we are essentially stupid. To some degree the low-lives that inhabit the Fourth and Fifth Estates, the British press and broadcast media have played along with this lie as well. I don’t doubt that the Paymaster General of Roman Abramovich has got his desired result of removing us from the back pages for the wrong (?) reasons, but we’re hardly filling them now for the right reasons as even the press and broadcast media start to see through the tissue of lies claiming we’ve suddenly started to entertain and enthral.

Well, just as in the story, like the little boy on his father’s shoulders I am starting right here, after watching the last 3 games of desperate, dire, dreadful football culminating in a pathetic display against a resurgent, lean, battling, skilful, spirited and committed Spurs side at Wembley. I am the little boy shouting at the Emperor..”You’ve got no clothes on!” , swapping those words for “You don’t know what you’re doing!” and now everyone will also start to realise that I am telling the truth and the world will see Avram Grant for what he is……an ostensibly decent and well meaning, but woefully inexperienced and under-qualified man to coach at this level. Against Liverpool we were timid and scared, lacking invention and bravery, against Olympiakos we went out to strangle the beautiful game without the added Germanic efficiency result of a win. Both were painful to watch, and none of us will get that time back again. The Carling Cup final was no different until we were losing and the veil of arrogance and complacency fell from the players. The sound of a rather large penny dropping echoed around the pitch as the players realised what they did for a living. It’s no good standing in front of St. Peter, or Mohammed and asking if you can have an extra 5 hours back because you wasted them watching your beloved team undergo a crisis of confidence and skill. In their eternal world, they probably support Arsenal!

What we’ve actually seen is a group of players, shell shocked by Mourinho’s departure, and like me questioning how that fitted with the alleged vision from Special Old Trafford Agent Kenyon for total dominance here and in Europe, suddenly responding as if on auto-pilot into playing at the level they know they can. Those players have now lost their way. Without the right pilot, any great vessel will lose its way, despite the best efforts of the crew, and support from the paying passengers. The passengers will soon rebel when they fail to arrive at Stamford Bridge Trophy Stadium , the crew will start arguing with each other and indecision will become rife, followed by eventual apathy because they still get paid and can ignore the passenger’s criticisms. We need a pilot who can actually fly because he is qualified and experienced for this type of aircraft. We need a coach with experience at the highest levels of the game, who understands what motivates and drives players, as well as knowing what the fans want to see and how to please the Paymaster General. It may not have been Mourinho in the end, a man with a big personality who wins everything was always going to fail in any battle with Roman Abramovich, but an apparent “yes man” with little or no experience at any reasonable level of the game was not the answer. From the sublime to the ridiculous was never better displayed than at Chelsea the day Mourinho “left” by mutual consent.

In any business one of the criteria for success is a leader who can make tough decisions and justify them eloquently, someone who can inspire and follow the vision. Someone brave enough to take the knocks and learn from them. Someone who picks his best people on trust and capability, not those with big reputations who talk a lot and deliver little. I’m afraid that Avram Grant is none of these. We needed someone who could command respect through their experience, who would understand the needs of the club and would encourage the right style. Names like Rijkaard, Van Basten, Van Gaal, Hiddinck, Klinsmann, Deschamps and Sparky Hughes were all banded around and to be honest I would have happily accepted any of those. But my choice would have seen the return of our King, a man loved by fans and players, a former World Footballer of the Year, a man who graced the game at the highest levels domestically and internationally and who coined the term “sexy football”. Yes, Ruud Gullitt should have been bought back to Stamford Bridge on Roman’s helicopter in a return that would have made Keegan’s third coming at Newcastle look like one of Peter Mandelson’s……ahem….. triumphant returns to office!

We lost the first of the domestic trophies to a Spurs side who ticked every box needed for success. Commitment, belief, spirit, ability, passion, empathy and above all else desire. They played to entertain, they used the pitch, and they were a yard sharper than us in every department. Now imagine what might have happened with Ruud at pitch-side, watching and encouraging and KNOWING exactly what the players were going through. Do you honestly think SWP would have stayed on beyond the first half? Would Ballack have replaced Essien at the same time (Essien was simply awful). Let’s not forget that Ruud broke the trophy-less years and built a side that allowed Luca Vialli to win even more trophies in a style that everyone, even the neutrals enjoyed. How I would love to see that style again, and yes, if we lost some games then it would be difficult to accept, but knowing the players were trying to win, and trying to excite and entertain me would help sweeten the bitterness of Defeat Pie, but recently all we’ve seen is boring, unattractive and style-less football, with an added twist of also not delivering good results. Bring back Ruud I say, and his taste in clothes would be the added bonus!

The charade is over, the truth is out and now everyone can see that The Emperor is not actually wearing any clothes. He is naked and what’s more, we can now see he doesn’t have any balls!

Later, Tony