“The famous Tottenham Hotspur went to Rome to see the Pope” we sometimes sing at the Shed End at Stamford Bridge. I probably shouldn’t tell you how it goes after that. It’s certainly more profane than sacred. Suffice to say the Holy Father is less than effusive in his welcome to the North London visitors. The Pope loves Chelsea, so the song goes. And so do I.
But recently moving house has posed something of a challenge to the Chelsea love in my household. We now live a stone’s throw from Brentford’s new stadium. And my boys have decided — perhaps to rile their father — that this is where their loyalty now lies. Local, family-friendly, plucky underdogs come good, and not owned by a KGB asset — I see the attraction.
Last month, I went to see my team get smashed by Real Madrid. The man sitting in front of me spent the whole game making hand gestures at the away fans. He hardly watched the football. It was as though he was only there for the loyalty, that order of belonging that is premised on a strong sense of them and us. He didn’t watch as Real striker Karim Benzema produced a masterclass of finishing. Chelsea was his family, his whole life I imagine. As his face contorted in rage at the celebration of the away fans, I began to reflect on what a terrible club I support.
I have always known we are a rotten lot, corrupted by bad money. Our owner made his billions in the wild east of perestroika. Despite having gone to prison in 1992 for the theft of government property, in 1995 he was allowed to buy half of an oil company for $100 million in a rigged auction. Abramovich has admitted in court that he paid billions of dollars in bribes to acquire Sibneft. Ten years after he bought it, he sold it back to the Russian government for $13 billion.
Abramovich’s co-investor in Sibneft was Boris Berezovsky. Abramovich and Berezovsky fell out, with Abramovich’s friend, Vladimir Putin, siding with Abramovich. Berezovsky survived a number of assassination attempts by Russian agents. Several of his friends and associates, like Alexander Litvinenko, were murdered or died in suspicious circumstances. Berezovsky apparently hanged himself in 2013, though the coroner recorded an open verdict. It’s all very dodgy. And as FSB agents were roaming London, Chelsea were doing very nicely thank you on the pitch. During Abramovich’s time as owner, the club won 18 major trophies. Our rivals accuse Chelsea of having bought all this silverware on the backs of the ripped-off Russian public — and perhaps even a few dead bodies under a flyover somewhere. And they may be right. Our owner is now sanctioned, his assets frozen.
I wish this was the end of the catalogue of accusations against my terrible team. I might be happy enough to sing about the Pope’s welcome to our Spurs rivals, but the gas noise that Chelsea fans used to greet Tottenham players as they emerged onto the pitch — a reference to the gas chambers — was so disgraceful, I probably should have walked out there and then, never to return. If the Jewish Roman Abramovich did one thing good, it was that he stopped the fans doing this. Mostly stopped.
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