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.

Does anyone have a cure for goal shyness?

Thanks to social media we are now familiar with almost every aspect of a footballer's life. When they sign for a club we get the obligatory 'thumbs up' photograph of the player undergoing his medical, followed soon by the contract signing itself, and then the standard 'club shirt/scarf aloft' picture. As they progress through their club careers we are entertained by videos of the player banging in trick shots and dummying teammates on the training ground, all designed to show what a fantastic player they are when, obviously, not having to deal with actual opposition players coming at them in full tilt.

However, none of this fan engagement via social media reveals what Chelsea's players are actually doing at their Cobham training ground all week long. Because, in last night's frustratingly tedious 0-0 draw with Arsenal in the Carabao Cup we saw the Blues dominate with more than half of the possession, and had 21 shots on goal against Arsenal's eight and six shots on target to Arsenal’s three. Álvaro Morata, the latest striker to bear the prefix "club record signing" was, once again, industrious without product, leading to a notable increase in the volume of tutting in the stand around me and my girlfriend (attending her first ever top-tier football match...).

After opening his Chelsea account with a number of we’ll taken goals early on, since October Morata has been achingly profligate, most notably in one-on-one opportunities. Now, it would be charitable to credit the goalkeepers in each of these situations, but the truth of the matter is that a striker with his cojones properly attached would have put those chances away time after time. And, of course, it can only get worse. One newspaper report today noted that defender Andreas Christensen is yet to score for the club. So what? He’s a defender. What I’m interested in is the striker scoring, mainly because in his job description that’s mostly all it says.

Chelsea have been there before, of course. In fact it’s been an Achilles heel of the club for many years that, not since Gianfranco Zola's era, has it enjoyed a striker so deadly that goals happen every time, without fail (and I'm not even sure that Franco was all that consistent). Not for nothing is the club's record goal scorer Frank Lampard, a midfielder. Diego Costa and Didier Drogba were the closest Chelsea have come in the modern, Abramovich era to a regular marksmen, though both suffered being temperamental, the latter in particular, when disinterested in a fixture, simply breaking down when it suited him. And there have been the fanciful experiments - Shevchenko, Torres, Crespo, Sturridge, Eto'o, Ba, Casiraghi - with mixed results, mostly of the occasional kind.

It's easy, of course, from my seat high up in the East Stand of Stamford Bridge to carp about what happens on the pitch below, but expectations are high. And when you're spending a reported £60 million on a striker, you’d hope he does what it says on the tin. Morata isn’t alone, however. I've now watched several consecutive Chelsea games in which the goal margins could have been higher had shots on target have actually gone in. Yes, some of those can be put down to good goalkeeping, but many could have been converted with more confident, accurate predation by the players involved. That, is what I want to see on my social media feeds. Not cute larks on the training field, but players - especially those paid handsomely to score goals - practising how best to bang them in, time and time again.

The problem isn't just Morata: even Eden Hazard has been more miss than hit. Teams like Southampton and Stoke - despite their shambolic league position - have gone out of their way to frustrate Chelsea in front of goal. But then that should be something the attacking side has a plan for. Again, back to the training ground. Morata has, though, been the most obvious miscreant. In last week's league encounter with Arsenal at the Emirates Stadium the Spaniard missed a priceless chance in the first half and then sent another effort wide when bearing down on Petr Čech towards the end of the 2-2 draw. Morata was, according to Antonio Conte, "not lucky in this period". "He’s young," the Italian explained. "I repeat, I understand for a striker it's not easy if you don't score, but don't forget for Alvaro it's his first season playing regularly. He didn’t always play with Real Madrid and Juventus. You have to know this. I’m very happy with his commitment and the way he's playing. He has to stay calm continue to play this way. The goal is coming." True, and last night you couldn't fault his work rate. But, to repeat, his job is scoring goals. Going back to October, his early season form dipped for the first time following injury, with Conte saying that he needed more time to return to top form after missing chances against Bournemouth, including yet another convertible one-on-one opportunity.

If anything, Morata's apparent lack of confidence, with his feet at least. in front of goal draws the spotlight on Conte's need for a striker in the January window (the exact same problem that led to Fernando Torres joining the club in January 2011). Michy Batshuyai, the charismatic Belgian, is the de facto backup to Morata, but he has looked increasingly not the solution with every ten-minute cameo Conte has given him. Long-term, there's Tammy Abraham, who won't be recalled from loan, meaning that the only salvation for Chelsea's misfiring forwards is either an epiphany or a fresh injection of talent. And it's not entirely certain where that might come from. For now, Chelsea need to work - and work hard - on the training pitch at Cobham. They need to rediscover what you do with the ball in front of goal, regaining the confidence to not overplay and overelaborate, but shoot straight and true.

The Premier League is now clearly out of sight for all but Manchester City, but with this Saturday's league fixture against Leicester, next Wednesday's FA Cup replay against Norwich, the second leg of the Carabao Cup against Arsenal a week later, and Barcelona in the not-too distant future in the Champions League, Chelsea need a strikeforce as effective as their defence continues to be, thankfully. Because it's goals scored we pay to see, not goals saved...