End of the line

If ever there was an afternoon at Stamford Bridge when I needed a pick-me-up, it was Saturday. The day before I was made redundant, and with football - to evoke Karl Marx - one of my go-to opiates, I was hoping that Chelsea would deliver. I was clearly to be disappointed. 24 hours later, Chelsea head coach Graham Potter joined me amongst the unemployed (although, it should be noted, with considerably better compensation).

Credit where it’s due, Aston Villa were just more organised, more committed and better drilled. Not for the first time this season with visitors to the Bridge, they were an opponent who didn’t create many chances, but when they did, took them well, with excellent goals from Ollie Watkins and John McGinn. Potter, in his post-match comments, would bemoan Chelsea’s better possession stats, but stats don’t win games. Goals do. 

On Saturday, as it has been for countless Saturdays this season, not to mention some Sundays, the occasional Wednesday and one obscure Friday, it was hard to see where Chelsea’s goals would come from. With Reece James, arguably Europe’s best right wingback, consigned to central defence, and Ruben Loftus-Cheek - a pedestrian midfielder at best - unable to create any width, Chelsea’s notoriously anaemic attack had little supply. On the left, Ben Chilwell, James’ opposite number and just as impactful, was forced into spending more time defending that attacking. It all pointed to the same thing: Chelsea hadn’t been set up right.

Graham Potter never felt right as a Chelsea manager, but fans were prepared to give him a chance, stoically supporting the rare opportunity of an Englishman in the dugout. But before our eyes, the fanbase began to erode, and the #potterout tweets proliferated. On Saturday, the 50% of supporters yet to turn on him, did. The atmosphere at full time, with large swathes of empty seats visible, was notably sulphurous. Last night’s club statement was inevitable. 

Unlike many, however, I held back from the Graham Potter pile-on that built up in the wake of his appointment after Thomas Tuchel was abruptly dismissed in September. Todd Boehly and his co-owners had signalled that their £4.25 billion takeover would herald a period of stability, a commodity missing during the turbulent Roman Abramovich era, when managers came and went like trains at Clapham Junction. Potter had never achieved anything at a so-called ‘elite’ club, but he’d built Brighton & Hove Albion into a decent side and on relatively meagre means, too. From one angle, however, he looked like the good soldier, a nice bloke who would drive the new owners’ long-term “project”, whatever that was. 

The conclusion now is that long-term thinking is fairly pointless in the Premier League, when judgement is meted out on day-to-day results. Even if Boehly and co-controlling owner Behdad Eghbali were prepared to stick with the Englishman, the noise around him wouldn’t go away.  In the end, sporting directors Paul Winstanley and Lawrence Stewart pushed for an immediate change and got it.

In fairness, the decision put Potter out of his misery. In February he spoke about the unforgivable abuse his family had received in the wake of Chelsea’s poor performances - many of which weren’t his fault as injuries began to rack up just as a new squad, which hadn’t had the benefit of a proper pre-season, toiled. In further mitigation, the spending spree of close to £600 million that the Boehly-Clearlake Capital went on in two transfer windows, bloated the squad with more expensive players than even José Mourinho would have known what to do with, adding unbelievable pressure to Potter who found himself charting new and decidedly richer professional waters.

“You have to accept that when the results are what they are, you accept criticism and it should come,” Potter reflected in February. “But that isn’t to say it’s easy at all. Your family life suffers, your mental heath suffers, and your personality suffers. It’s hard.” That may have won him some deserved sympathy, but the results continued to be poor. “Clearly it is a process of how to get our message across better. How can we structure things in a way to help the players? Because that is what we are here for. When results aren’t good, you have to accept that we haven’t done it well enough.”

In every post-match interview and pre-match press conference, Potter would pursue the same passive defence: “I feel the support of the players, I feel the support of everyone here,” he said after being beaten 2-0 by a managerless Tottenham (Antonio Conte being absent due to gallbladder surgery). “I understand the frustrations externally but among the players it is a desire for us all to do better and that is the pleasing thing. The results haven’t been good but we are still there fighting for each other.”

If I was writing his lines, as a PR pro, I’d probably be having him say the same thing. The reality, however, on the pitch was a whole lot different. Even if the intent was there, the execution wasn’t. Potter’s 31 games in charge - which included 11 defeats, 12 wins and eight draws - resulted in Chelsea’s worst managerial record in the Premier League era, which began with a nominal revival in the early 1990s as the late Matthew Harding’s investments brought a touch of glamour to the club, including a new stand, and players like Ruud Gullit, Gianluca Vialli and Gianfranco Zola.

But nothing is ever simple at Chelsea. BT Sport’s brilliant recent documentary Pound Land - The Battle Of The Bridge recounted the fractious rivalry between Harding and chairman Ken Bates who, himself, had led a valiant effort to save Stamford Bridge from being turned into flats. Bates had bought the club at the end of an equally turbulent period, when the club faced bankruptcy as a result of over-extending itself by building the Bridge’s East Stand (where I’ve sat for the last 20-plus years) on the back of the club’s successes in the early 1970s. The late ’70s and much of the ’80s were marked by relegations, financial ruin and the scourge of hooliganism. 

The arrival of ‘name’ players in the 1990s commenced a period of increasing success that ultimately led to Roman Abramovich buying the club in 2003, and leading to 20 titles over the course of his 19 years’ ownership. We had literally never had it so good. But if the near-bankruptcy of the ’70s, and the fight to keep Chelsea at Stamford Bridge were existential threats, Russia’s invasion of Ukraine last year genuinely took the club to the abyss. The Government’s sanctioning of Abramovich forced the sale that brought the Boehly-Clearlake consortium to the rescue. 

The last ten months since the takeover must be put into some context. That Potter leaves Chelsea with such a disappointing record is unfortunate, but let’s face it - at least he had a Chelsea to be fired from. 

That notwithstanding, however, questions should quite rightly be asked about the club strategy since the takeover, particularly of the £600 million in player acquisitions that seemed more scattergun than purposeful, and whether Potter was ever the right manager to take charge of them. 

“We have the highest degree of respect for Graham as a coach and as a person,” Boehly and Eghbali said in a statement last night. ”He has always conducted himself with professionalism and integrity and we are all disappointed in this outcome.“ As they should be.

Of course, no one will ever know whether Thomas Tuchel, whose firing remains shrouded in suggestions of backroom disagreements (he wasn’t exactly a compliant employee at Paris Saint-Germain…) would have fared better, but given what he delivered since replacing Frank Lampard in January 2021, taking the team on to win the Champions League itself, makes one wonder whether his departure was really for the best. And if it was, why was Potter, a manager seen as the driver of a decent Ford Focus, given the keys to a Bugatti Veyron Super Sport like Chelsea? Potter will have his reasons for his team selections, but for the paying fans, they’ve often been hard to fathom. And if they’re hard for the crowd to comprehend, it’s likely that they’d be difficult for the players too. 

Chelsea’s next manager will have his work cut out. He’ll be inheriting a lop-sided squad that should be challenging for titles but, barring an incomprehensible miracle in Europe, will next season be focused solely on domestic silverware. A much-needed clear-out this summer, partly to balance the books for Financial Fair Play, might allow that new head coach to start from scratch, with a proper pre-season and a blueprint of how to go about things. In some respects, that clear-out began last night, with Graham Potter’s departure. The onus is on Boehly and Eghbali to choose his successor with a little more understanding of the task he’ll have to deliver on.

Back in the saddle

Picture: Twitter/Chelsea FC

And, so, the ninth Premier League fixture of Project Restart and the first in which I had more of a vested interest than simply the opportunity to laugh, Nelson Muntz-style, at the misfortunes of rivals. Aston Villa-Chelsea was also the second game of the new order I’ve watched featuring the struggling Brummies, but of course, it was the Blues I’d come to see. Sort of.

The jury is still out, as far as I’m concerned, as to whether this glorified contractual obligation to get the season over and done with is actually any good. Every game I’ve seen since last Wednesday night’s re-opener between Villa and Sheffield United has been flat, mostly the result of empty stadiums rendering players somewhat unsure of themselves. We viewers may, of course, be able to tune in to audio options that provide artificial crowd noise, but it will always be a sound effect and no more. I’ve actually come to the conclusion that only hearing the players and coaches shouting at each other gives an on-the-ground authenticity you wouldn’t normally hear with 40,000 yahoos in full bait mode. Must be a nightmare, though, for TV censors hoping that the pitchside microphones don’t pick up the inevitable F-bombs that drop in the heat of battle. Must be a nightmare, too, for the extended scrutiny of players, such as Chelsea’s Mateo Kovavic, caught by Sky's all-seeing eyes spitting from the substitutes’ bench, clearly in breach of the coronavirus health-and-safety protocols. 

Anyway, back to Villa-Chelsea. An altogether better game than any I’d seen previously in this strange reappearance of the national sport (though the BBC set the benchmark high by showing the Wales-Belgium tie from Euro 2016 immediately before the 4.15pm kick-off, providing a vital reminder of what football excitement can be when enriched by a profoundly impassioned support). This was also Frank Lampard's 100th game as a manager, though I had to think about that stat: 57 were as Derby boss last term, meaning that the Chelsea head coach, who turned 42 yesterday, still only has 43 matches under his belt at the club where he remains record top scorer. 

Like Project Restart, the jury is also still somewhat out on Lampard as a head coach - having won 46 of those 100 matches - even if his mostly positive run until the lockdown gave some indication of the youth-driven project he is building at Stamford Bridge. It would be harsh, though, to put the blame for Villa opening the scoring on anything strategic. It looked to me like pure rust: Mason Mount, Andreas Christensen, Antonio Rudiger and César Azpiliqueta all getting in knots with their respective marks leading to Kortney Hause sneaking in. It was a good goal, though, and against the run of play that Villa should have built on in the second half, given their precarious position second from bottom in the Premier League.

But no. On the hour of play, substitute Christian Pulisic smashed Azpiliqueta’s exquisite pass into the roof of Villa’s net, two minutes before the newly re-contracted Olivier Giroud piled in a second from distance. I’m going to be biased, but having endured dire 0-0s in recent days, seeing two good goals in as many minutes from your own side was enough to restore some faith in the whole shooting match. Smugly, it strengthened the Blues’ fourth place and creates a little comfort between them and Manchester United. That said, the rust still needs the wire brush treatment. 19 attempts on goal, of which only two were converted, is something for Lampard to worry about in the remaining weeks of this truncated and revived season.

The night football came home...and no one was in

"The ambient noise is hideous. The overall spectacle melancholic. Maybe I will get used to it. But I have not enjoyed the game, and not just because it is same old Arsenal." So tweeted Robert Peston, ITV's verbosity-prone political editor. Normally Pesto is to be found asking excruciatingly long questions to whichever stooge has been put up to front the daily No.10 press conference. But here, in the succinct confines of Twitter, he nailed it: my worst fears confirmed - football returned to stadia bereft of fans, noise or atmosphere.

As I watched with low expectation the lifeless spectacle that was the evening's first serving, Aston Villa against Sheffield United, I couldn't help feeling it was all just an experiment: some sort of exhibition by a chemicals company to test out a new type of ball, a new form of artificial grass or that it was an Under-17 practice match behind closed doors. It certainly didn't feel like a team trying to fight its way out of relegation (Villa) or one trying to clamber into fifth place (United). The sterility of a Villa Park shorn of all but essential personnel, and the awkward moment of managers Dean Smith and Chris Wilder not knowing whether to shake hands or elbow-bump at the start (sensibly, they opted for the latter), gave the fixture a surrealism. I've seen televised games before played in front of an empty stadium, but they've usually been European matches operating under crowd bans. This enforced absence was different, and not even the Sky Sports option of a crowd sound effect audio channel could make a difference.

Players taking a ten-second knee before kick-off, followed by a minute's silence for victims of COVID-19, provided two moments of theatre. But for the 90 minutes of play that followed, the only drama was referee Michael Oliver's smart watch proving to be not so smart, and failing to signal a goal when the Villa keeper Orjan Nyland fumbled Oliver Norwood's free kick over the line. Cruel for Sheffield United, but even more cruel for the football-starved viewer hoping for something more than an anodyne encounter to herald the return of competitive football after a three month absence in which we focused on other priorities. Not dying, mainly. If the failure of Oliver's watch was a major talking point in the otherwise so-so 0-0 draw then so, too, was the lack of intervention from VAR on what - regardless of the game itself - was supposed to be a prestige moment in this weird season. "We were waiting for somebody at Stockley Park to show a bit of courage and say they will make that decision," Wilder said afterwards, "but if they've not seen it and seven cameras haven't seen it I suppose they will say that it was not their decision to make." Fair point. For once, you could hardly say the crowd saw what the referee didn't.

If the Villa game was meant to be the warm-up act, the main event - Manchester City-Arsenal - hardly delivered the goods, either. Like the preceding fixture, there was plenty of effort but suspect quality. I know it's going to sound mean-spirited for me, a Chelsea fan, to pass comment on Arsenal, and do so objectively, but it's fair to say that the Gunners barely turned up to their opening engagement of Project Restart. David Luiz's brain didn't turn up at all. The Brazilian, always a subject of mixed opinion while in Chelsea blue, is yet to win over anyone in N1. After last night's performance, it's unlikely he will now. Coming on for the injured Mari after 24 minutes, it didn't take him long to let Kevin de Bruyne gift Raheem Sterling for City's opening goal. Worse was to come when he ridiculously brought down Mahrez to give away a penalty. The subsequent red card received from referee Anthony Taylor might well be the last red thing Luiz sees as an Arsenal player: his contract runs out later this month.

Luiz has inevitably provided the lightning rod for Arsenal fans' wrath, but at the end of the day, this was a clinical Pep Guardiola result for City over an team Mikel Arteta clearly has an uphill challenge to improve. That, though, is to look at the game through the myopia of normal football engagement. Widen the focals, and we had a match, like the 6pm kick-off, that resembled a pre-season friendly with less-than friendly intent. Across the park, fitness looked predictably suspect, and this actually underpins the arguments of indifference to the Premier League resuming. Playing before soulless, empty stadia is one thing, but if the season's remaining, contractually-obliged fixtures are in any way similar to these first toes dipped in the cold sea of revival, then even the most starved fans are going to go wanting.

Players often talk of crowds as being the "12th teammate", and the absence of supporters is clearly a factor. Sure, football can be played as a mechanical exercise, but last night's attempts at blowing puffs of breath into a dying season demonstrated just what a pointless exercise it really is. I've said before that the season's stumps should have just been pulled up, and we restart in September or whenever it's safe to do so, and my view hasn't been changed by last night's morsels of live 'elite' football. It might be back, warts and all, but elite quality - on this first evidence alone - is a long way away. Many will no doubt be relieved: we're all craving normality - holidays, going to the pub, not having to wear face masks to post a letter, and no one will disagree that 'normal' will come at a price, for the time being. I'm not, however, convinced that football so vacant of atmosphere is the normal we want.