Football Poets

To any one muiasyubdestanding htis poem.I don’t reallty htink I haven’t got an ego.It’s a joke..I had a feeling that this poem might wind a few poeple up.Who does Crispin think he is.etc; I also knew someone would e-mail in to say I was on a massive ego trip.Can I just say this is meant to be a funny poem? A send up of how we are all actually on ego-trips but we all think we’re not and that we are so cool…get it?The great thing about Jose Mourhino is that he is on one and he knows he’s on one.
.Following Chelsea since I was 8 up until now has been a love-hate roller-coaster nightmare,fuelled with huge passion but little major success on the field .If only a certain Mr. Mourhino had been around then how different it might have been! I grew up in a e little house, just off the Ifield Road,with a little football rattle and scarf.. and my plastic blue star Chelsea badges (one of which I just got again after 45 years off Ebay!) .It was barely a Bill Robertson, Reg Matthews ,Peter Bonetti Peta Borata, Carlo Cudicini, Petr Cech throw from Stamford Bridge ..My mum wouldn’t let the other older kids in our street take me to a Blues game til I was 9 because of the big crowds that would stream past our door,.so I just missed out on seeing them win the championship by a year or two..But I do just remember the celebrations in the street and blue and white streamers.(Clearer than the Coronation!).MY constantly inebriated step dad , with whom I had many a run-in ,was always banging on about going to the Moscow Dynamo game in ’48. First game i went to was Spring ’57 and Roy Bentley, who I had the great pleasure of meeting and working with this year..had gone by then ( Chelsea Championship captain 54/55)….but it’s all come full circle now..finally ..fingers crossed that is!