Take your seats please, you're here by royal appointment

© Simon Poulter 2018

I may have mentioned on this blog once or twice that I lived abroad for 17 years, and in that time I managed to maintain a season ticket at Stamford Bridge, albeit an arrangement which meant that Chelsea home games were restricted to weekend fixtures and the occasional bank holiday. In fact, over the course of those 17 years I chalked up just a single midweek match - a crucial fixture with Tottenham (well, usually, they are) that my boss at the time - who also happened to be a Chelsea season ticket holder - and I contrived we had to be at. Somehow “an urgent meeting in London” was convened.

Returning to London, I’ve been reacquainted with the rituals of the midweek fixture: leaving the office at just the right time, sans briefcase; shoving the Evening Standard into the exterior pocket of a coat; making do with a poor quality burger and a pint of Guinness for an evening meal; and at the actual stadium, adopting a wry smile at the site of young herberts wearing their best workplace suits and ties, instead of the yobwear they’d normally be in on a Saturday afternoon.

Most midweek games I’ve attended since being back in the UK have been for sundry cup ties, plus the occasional league game, but the visit by Atlético Madrid in the Champions League in December (I had to miss the October home time with Roma) whet the appetite for a brand new experience: European football. This may sound naive, given that, save for last season, Chelsea have played in Europe consistently over the last decade or so. But when I moved abroad in 1999 Chelsea had yet to commence the Abramovich-funded ascendancy that put them into the so-called European elite. 19 years ago, though, things were certainly on the up: FA Cup victory in 1997 and the arrival of European superstars like Ruud Gullitt, Gianfranco Zola and Gianluca Vialli were some indication of improvements, which is why I’d taken the plunge and bought a season ticket to begin with. But apart from a breathless foray into the Cup Winners' Cup (and a memorable away trip to Bruges) the idea of Chelsea playing the true royalty of Europe seemed beyond reality. The idea of Chelsea actually winning something seemed even more remote.

In my lifetime Chelsea had only won one major European title, the Cup Winners' Cup in 1971 (beating Real Madrid), before a period of financial instability and near bankruptcy in the late 70s and 80s, pinballing around the old First and Second Divisions. It’s why, when away fans sing "Where were you when you were shit?!" at Stamford Bridge, I always reply, "Here." The Cup Winners' Cup victory in 1998 - in which Zola came off the bench to score against VfB Stuttgart - still felt like an aberration. The Premier League victory in 2004 - 50 years since the club’s previous league title - felt overdue. Arrogant as it sounds, we've not looked back, domestically. But the European adventure has - and still - feels like something different.

The ‘Cup with the big ears’ has always had a special appeal. When Chelsea qualified for the Champions League for the first time in 1999, progressing to the quarter-finals to meet Barcelona (beating them 3–1 at Stamford Bridge only to be demolished 5-1 two weeks later) the notion of Chelsea playing the European elite was still somewhat unreal. It was only four years later, with the arrival of Roman Abramovich’s roubles, that it started to feel like the new normal. Over the first decade of Abramovich’s patronage, Chelsea were consistent qualifiers, even coming close to winning the thing. Who can forget the heartache of John Terry’s penalty slip against Manchester United in the Final held in Moscow’s Luzhniki Stadium in 2008. And the next season they were back, going as far as the semi-final where they met Barcelona again, drawing 0-0 in the first leg at Camp Nou, and then controversially conceding an equaliser at Stamford Bridge in the 94th minute of the second leg. Barça figured again in the unlikely run-in to Chelsea winning the Champions League in 2012, with another nervy semi-final in which, in the second leg, John Terry was sent off and the much-maligned Fernando Torres scored in injury time in the Catalan capital. By that stage, Chelsea were unbeaten in their previous four matches at Camp Nou, having drawn all of them, and Lionel Messi had failed to score against Chelsea in eight matches, the most games he had played against a single opponent without a goal - a record that still stands.

Which, then, brings me to tonight’s Round Of 16 first leg encounter at Stamford Bridge. Chelsea haven’t had a bad record against Barça, and some of it has been more overshadowed by refereeing controversy than football. But, like handling wild animals, nothing but the utmost respect must be applied. Not for nothing is Luis Valverde’s side where they are in La Liga, with - ominously - Messi on 27 goals in all competitions this season, 20 of which in the Spanish league where Barça currently have a seven-point league. Chelsea, on the other hand are…well…”recovering” from a disastrous January beset by defeats, injuries, suspensions and a manager in open conflict with his board over squad depth and the lack of transfer window signings. Psychologically, Conte has correctly played the underdog card ahead of tonight for his team - what else can you do against this opposition? - but there is still a concern that against a powerful and resurgent Barcelona, Chelsea’s noted defensive weaknesses and profligacy in front of goal will hurt them, regardless of how stable they are again after a well-earned break and something of a return to form.

Whatever the outcome (and I know I’m steeling myself for disappointment here), tonight’s experience will be like little else in football. To be seeing FC Barcelona in the flesh will be something to revere. I just hope it won’t be something to regret.