1/31/05 - A special Nevada's Notes from Stamford Bridge !
Chelsea invited representatives of all Official Supporters Clubs to a dinner at Stamford Bridge on Saturday January 29th. It was the first of its kind and a way for Chelsea to say thanks to all Supporters Clubs. Along with Barbara Harris who was representing the US Blues, Jonathan represented the New York Blues at this event and joined in the light question and answer session which was held beforehand...
The Supporters Clubs dinner which Barbara Harris and I attended at the Chelsea
Village Hotel on Saturday night was part of a serious initiative by CFC, but it
was also meant to be fun. I thought I'd skip the 'agenda' talk, and give an
account of what happened:
Barbara and I met up at the Shed Bar with Marcus Clifton and Ronni Bloch, and we
'prepped' ourselves for the evening with Blues talk and a beverage. Going
upstairs to the conference facilities, we entered a room set out with approx. 50
seats facing a panel of five.
[One of the panel's chairs was empty; the rest were occupied by Simon Arthur
(director of Operations, Chelsea Football Club), Diane Broom (Group Sales, and
CFC Supporters Club Manager), a Ms. I-Can't-Recall-Her-Name (a coordinator for
Chelsea Village Travel who was marginally involved in the discussion), and
George McCullough (a young lad, soon to be assistant to Diane Broom as full-time
liaison between CFC and its supporters clubs).]
Simon Arthur showed a brief video, "Chelsea: Then - Now - Next", a montage of
highlight clips set to music, intended to pump us up. Not to worry! Chopper
Harris was in the room!
Simon explained the purpose of the dinner - to thank us (that means you, Steve
and Mike) - and he was humbled that CFC had not done more, previously, to
cultivate the goodwill and partnership of supporters club organizers working
voluntarily on Chelsea's behalf. He re-stated the club's ambition to become the
greatest football club in the world. He addressed a number of talking points up
front, to guide the discussion. All attendees then stood up, in turn, and we
introduced ourselves; we stated our names, our affiliated clubs, and the
numbers of our memberships. The meeting got down to business.
The forum began. (I'll skip a bit.) Yadda, yadda, yadda, Chelsea, Chelsea,
Chelsea, Where're our tickets, Where're our tickets, Where're our tickets.
Somewhere in between a comment by the representative from Bristol and a
complaint from the rep from Dubai (who looked and sounded like a close relative
of Michael Caine), Peter Kenyon walked in the room. Applause. Relief. They
really are taking us seriously.
(Mr. Kenyon did not appear in a cuddly mood, at first. Turns out he'd spent part of his preceding hours working on our new kit deal with Adidas, among other headaches.)
The talk kept going. Some other overseas reps raised issues close to ours.
Barbara weighed in. I stood up to add to her point. I seem to recall having a
bit of a brain freeze. [sigh] Let's call it a 'blip.' Hey, I'm new to this
stuff.
Well, points were made, points were taken. Dinner beckoned, but it wasn't easy
to answer the call. People wanted autographs and pictures taken. Not to be
denied, I offered Peter Kenyon a New York Blues scarf and, thank goodness, I
wasn't wrestled to the floor and handcuffed for copyright infringement. (I only
let my girlfriend do that.)
Oh! Where was I? Well, Kenyon seemed unperturbed at our possibly felonius
borrowing of legally registered trademarks. He smiled, we put arms around each
other's shoulders, and each of us grabbed an end of the scarf while a few snaps
were taken. (Oh, God, don't let me look like a deer in the headlights!)
...
[Warning: Long. Also, the following contains anecdotes told by an ex-professional footballer. Some language may not be suitable for a general audience.]
Peter Kenyon headed off into the night, but the rest of the crowd entered
Arkle's Restaurant, on street level at Chelsea Village. Barbara informed me
that I would be seated at Ron Harris's table. True, but not the whole story:
as I approached the table I realized that I would be sitting NEXT to Ron
Harris.
Now, Ron "Chopper" Harris - a.k.a. "Mr. Chelsea", former Captain, all-time
leader in appearances (795 games over 20 years!), lifter of the F.A. Cup and
European Cup-Winners' Cup - is everything you are told you should never meet
alone in a dark alley at night. But, that said, he's salt-of-the-earth and a
helluva nice guy.
Well, we caught up on old times... Oh, who am I kidding?! I'd heard of the
legend, but I'd never even seen the man play! I was praying that I could keep
the banter going and not say something that would lead to a punch in the face.
To my relief, Chopper only got rough when he grabbed me with both hands and
shook me, to demonstrate how they used to defend corners in the old days.
Ladies and Gents, mission accomplished. Chopper and I won't be exchanging
Christmas cards, but we had a lovely conversation with our fellow diners at the
table. Oh, sure, he's probably telling his mates that he had to sit next to
'some yankee poof' all night, but I gave him a New York Blues scarf and I'd like
to think we made a connection.
Long story, short, the meal was fantastic (lobster AND Beef Wellington) and the
program continued with a quiz to win a squad-signed shirt (nope, didn't get it)
and a hand-out of signed player photos. Simon Arthur called out, "New York
Blues," and Diane Broom handed me a signed photo of Eidur.
Seizing the moment, I gave Diane my last New York Blues scarf and thanked her on
behalf of the group for all of her assistance to us. I was trying to butter her
up, without pouring on too much syrup. She's a doll.
Lastly, there was a little bit of stand-up patter by Chopper. I couldn't resist
writing down some of Chopper's best stuff, much of it quoting his first manager,
Tommy Docherty:
"Tommy had some great lines about his ex-players. He'd say, "Jimmy Greaves
- fastest man over 500 Liters.""
"Tommy used to run through his all-time favourite side. He'd list 'em:
"Peter Bonetti, in goal, ... Ken Shellito ... Eddie McCreadie ... Peter Osgood
..." and he'd finish with, "... and the late Ron Harris. ... He's not dead;
that's just how he was in the tackle.""
"Well, when I got my first contract with Chelsea, I was making £40 a week,
with a signing-on bonus of £1,000.
"Later, after being made captain of the team and playing well, I went into
the manager's office and said to Tommy that I thought I deserved an extra £20
per week.
"He replied, "That's your opinion, Son. Fuck off!""
"One time I was in a squad and we was in Germany, about to play a team
called 1860 Munich. Tommy's team-talk consisted of: "Now, don't forget - these
Germans tried to kill your parents." We went out and won, 2-0."
On Ian Hutchinson: "Hutch. The poor guy was so injury-prone. He had ten
operations in five years. We used to call him 'Tampax', 'cause he was in for
one week and out for three!"
Bobby Charlton: "He had the hardest shot of any player I ever played against,
and he could hit it with both feet. He wasn't big, either - only about 5' 10" -
but he could hammer it.
"One game, Charlton was lining up a volley and it fell to his right foot -
he struck it so hard!
"Well, it smacked against the bar and came straight back out to him,
falling to his left foot. He hit it in the next instant, and Peter Bonetti -
our 'keeper - made an incredible stretching dive and parried it 'round for a
corner.
"We was all going over to him and congratulating him for this incredible
save, and the Cat says, "Fuck off, I was going for the first shot!"
Finally, Chopper mentioned a story about Peter Osgood:
"Ossie and I were sharing a room on the road this one time, and I went back
to the room first, to turn in. Later, in the darkness, I hear this key fumblin'
around in the lock. The door opens, and in walks Ossie, and I can see by the
light in the hall that he's got this fantastic blonde bird with him.
"And then it starts. You know, the negotiation.
"I hear whispers and then the figure of "£20." So Ossie fishes in his
pockets and he realizes he's only got 8 quid.
""Well, what'll this get me?" he asks.
"More whisperin'. He hands over the money. I assume she's gonna give him
a 'J. Arthur.'
"Well, Ossie had the biggest 'Hampton' of any man I've ever known. The
blonde bird un-does his trousers, fiddles about, and all of a sudden walks off,
over to her purse.
""Where ya goin?" asks Ossie.
"And she says, "I'm going to lend you £12.""
So ended the dinner, but the party didn't break up until 3:30 in the morning.
That's when the last reps gave up and headed to their rooms and the hotel
concierge called a cab for yours truly.
