Team-mates giving Sheva the cold shoulder

MOST giants, it seems, survived last weekend unscathed (with one notable exception — although that was more of a case of Goliath slaying Goliath).

I enjoyed last Saturday for a number of reasons; the avalanche of goals obviously, but there was lots of things to make a true-blue smile. The Chelsea boys surrounding the referee to try and persuade him to let the Macclesfield keeper stay on the pitch was a nice thing to see — although ultimately their pleas proved fruitless. The £25 tickets meant that Chelsea fans could afford to take their kids and so the ground was full of young fans, something we don’t often see at Stamford Bridge. Apparently we could have sold over 60,000 tickets for that game — not bad considering we were facing unfashionable, lowly Macclesfield. Yet we can’t sell out Champions League group games at £50 a ticket. And Kenyon can’t work out why . . .

The cherry on the cake was watching Liverpool go out. Not because I am a spiteful witch (although I am), but because it proves that if Arsenal can go there and win, so can we. I have had a few sleepless nights over our impending visit to Anfield, but feel (slightly) better now.

Our comprehensive win against the Silkmen also meant that I was able to relax and focus my attention on Shevchenko to try and spot what the problem could be. It was an interesting exercise; the amount of times Sheva called for the ball and was ultimately ignored, and the amount of promising runs he made and none of the other players seem to notice was pretty astonishing. Even more worrying was how often Lampard attempted to shoot from 30 yards plus rather than seek out the striker (who was invariably in a better shooting position). Shevchenko is working hard and time will reward him eventually; the good thing is that the crowd obviously appreciate his contribution and back him vocally more than any other player at the moment — which he obviously appreciates.

Management sackings used to be so predictable. In the old days, a club would lose a load of games, the board would publicly back the manager for as long as it took to secure the services of another, and soon enough the club manager would leave the club by mutual consent. Everyone knew where they stood. How things have changed; now, the soon-to-be-outgoing manager doesn’t even have to lose many games; draws are regarded as heinous crimes. What happens next is that (well informed, important, high-ranking) sources within the club begin “off-the-record” briefings to a gleeful press, undermining the present incumbent, at the same time leaking the name of a “possible” replacement.

Of course the “possible replacement” has already been signed up and is simply biding his time somewhere out of the limelight … somewhere like Russia. The regularity of the briefings will increase, undermining and humiliating the manager in situ until a standoff is reached. A financial agreement will be hatched-together, ensuring a gagging clause and aforementioned manager will board the first Alitalia flight to the blue side of Milan to perform his miracles there.

At the same time a private jet will be winging its way into London to take up the reins. This manager will do as he’s told. This manager will promote the brand. This manager will happily allow the owner to meddle. This manager will ultimately fail.

It is very difficult as a supporter seeing tens of millions of pounds being written off when we are constantly being asked to stump up so much money just to watch 90 minutes of football a week.

So tonight we take on Wycombe in another semi-final and perhaps this time a giant-killing is a possibility, as we will be fielding a team with not one natural central defender. Terry and Boulahrouz are injured and Carvalho is suspended so who knows who we will see there but I’d wager the ubiquitous Essien will be attempting to hold back the marauding hoards with perhaps the 55-year-old Brito (Mourinho’s assistant) next to him! Oh, ok then, it will really be Paolo Ferreira.

Then this weekend we hopefully welcome back John Terry to face the desperately unlucky Wigan who will feel they owe us a poke in the eye for our lucky last gasp winner up there a couple of weeks ago.

I’ll be wearing my lucky top and may even see if I can hunt down a rabbits foot — as the Fulham game proved there are no such things as home bankers for us at the moment.

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