Suffering a bad case of Chelsea Fatigue

THE World Health Organisation lists the symptoms: boredom, drowsiness, short-term aversion to newspapers and mild nausea brought on by everybody else’s hype and hysteria.

Round my way they call it Chelsea Fatigue. In West London they doubtless call it something else.

Tonight will be the 20th meeting in four seasons. I for one have had a gutful, as it’s helped dispel the notion that the Champions League is special anymore.

It was never a club I had any particular affinity or distaste for, but four years on I can’t stand the sight of the rottweiller Terry, Drogba’s fruitless battle with gravity and their Deputy Dawg sock-collecting ‘coach’.

Ah yes, those stupid white socks that could even make Mike Tyson look fruity. Another of those minor irritants in football that somehow turns malignant and curl your fingers into a ball at the thought.

Maybe this column would display its sweeter more forgiving nature had the Scandinavian Scud not tardily misfired in spectacular fashion.

His chant needed a tweak anyhow. You rarely hear supporters asking one of their players if they’re ever going to score again.

The Villa rumour hasn’t gone away, and even before last week’s fiasco there were plenty of volunteers to pack his bags and pay his fare.

Maybe it’s the living off an old reputation, maybe it’s the red hair.

But with Aurelio officially the world’s unluckiest footballer, we can’t just stash Riise in the attic before the summer car boot sale. Any desire to make amends was conspicuous by its absence at Birmingham.

Before he made his calamitous intervention, demonstrating all the grace of a centipede on fire, the semi-final couldn’t have gone much better. It was a typical encounter between the two, attrition peppered with occasional skill.

A word for Dirk Kuyt. All week there’s been understandable sympathy for Lampard, but here’s a player that’s also lost a parent and never gives less than everything in a red shirt.

Most supporters adhere to a strict code of glass half empty, his incredible work-rate often derided as perspiring camouflage for a dearth of talent.

It is worth remembering two of our greatest ‘flank’ players, Kennedy and Case, began as forwards. He certainly showed great instinct when he latched onto Mascherano’s ‘ghost pass’.

Dirk’s become a key player in Europe this season, just like Garcia before him. It wouldn’t surprise us to see him make the difference tonight.

Let’s hope Babel doesn’t start. It can’t be flattering to be labelled ‘Supersub’ but almost every contribution so far has been via the bench and his vanity isn’t the priority right now.

And Torres must stand up to Terry more than he did. He should have had more protection from what was borderline bullying (Carvalho was no angel either) but once the referee turns a blind eye it’s in your own hands to rectify matters.

Rafa complained about time added on, proving managers will find anything to blame if they put their minds to it. It was a freak goal that cost us, but not for the first time this season 1-0 was a dangerous score-line at Anfield. Percentage football cuts both ways.

It must sound like I’ve accepted defeat. Four straight semi victories against one club would be unique and breaking our goal hoodoo at the Bridge seems unlikely.

But think back to Anfield last season and the chronic caution that gripped Chelsea. The longer it stays deadlocked the more nervous they’ll become.

Let’s see if Chelsea’s exertions have taken their toll. What the future holds for our lanky second striker is another matter. He’s scored in his last three league games with only the second string for support.

All we keep hearing is how our squad doesn’t match Chelsea’s or United’s. How you rectify that by irritating and isolating the likes of Peter Crouch, God alone knows.