In raptures as spirit of the Blues shines out

When Fernando Torres’ goal hit the net, I literally held my head in my hands in stunned and silent disbelief before going absolutely mental, joyous screaming and punching the air with utter abandonment.

As I was in amongst the Barca fans, one would say that this was not too wise but this was an achievement of monumental proportions, and logic and wisdom often take a back seat in scenarios such as these.

The Catalans, used as they are to watching bewitching football, can rarely have witnessed such drama.

There had been much talk prior to the game from the locals of them being worried about Chelsea, yet as I took my seat amongst them they all seemed smugly confident.

But I too had felt an inexplicable confidence which I kept to myself as I felt that should I speak of it out loud, the spell would be broken.

My resolve and nerve held when Cahill came off injured, and even when they took the lead. And extraordinarily, a kind of calm befell me when Terry saw red as I realised then that this game had a predestined path to follow — that just somehow made the belief stronger.

But their second goal broke my spell — I simply could not believe it — I had thought Munich was our destiny — this was not the way that this was meant to go... then Ramires scored.

This was the point where I abandoned all pretence of being a neutral — as that sublime chip stunned the Catalans into silence, the many Chelsea fans dotted around the home support revealed themselves — belief was our companion once again.

The Messi miss just confirmed what I knew — that this was our night — that this was somehow just meant to be. The Chelsea team, sporting Real Madrid white, fought with an iron-will that screamed ‘we will not be beaten’ — again and again they blocked everything thrown at them. The onslaught was relentless, yet they continued to block and absorb — they made no apology for their tactics and nor should they as this was a match played as much in the mind as on the pitch.

These Chelsea players were heroes — each and every one of them as this was a test of the strength of character of the team — individuals may make mistakes but the team would compensate and so it played out.

As the minutes counted down I was shaking — terrified and exhilarated at the same time. When Torres broke free my whole world went into slow motion — and everything around me blurred until all I could see was the Spaniard marauding up the pitch and all I could hear was a rushing in my ears. As he rounded the keeper, my breath caught in my throat just for a second and then utter pandemonium.

When the final whistle went, there were tears rolling down my face.

The 5,000 Chelsea fans privileged to have witnessed the miracle at the Nou Camp will remember it for the rest of their lives — these games come few and far between. What happens in Munich is almost unimportant — this was about confounding the critics and laying a few myths to bed.

This was a tale of the determination of the human spirit — a demonstration that anything is possible if the mindset is right. I said last week that we could be heroes — all that is needed now is that one step beyond.