The trip began with a few tense moments. The blizzard like conditions had caused the first flight to be delayed 2 hours, and once everyone was aboard, cancelled. With a quick sprint down the jetway, and some muscle from Diana, we were book on another flight that was also delayed 2 hours at that point.
Once aboard the second flight, I relaxed a bit. Outside the window the de-icing machine was squirting us down. After 7 hours at O’Hare, we were finally on our way to London. Hopefully our flight would get in with enough time for us to check-in, shower, and be on our way to Stamford Bridge.
After all the sitting we had been doing, I decide that we should walk to the Bridge from our Kensington hotel. Looking on the map, it appeared to be a straight shot down two major roads, so there shouldn’t have been any problems. The walk down Gloucester Road was nice, except for the small confusion about the yellow bollards and which way to look while crossing the street.
Once we got to Fulham Road we started looking for an ATM. We surely didn’t want to pay the large ATM fees that Stamford Bridge was bound to have. We walked….and walked…..and finally came upon the gates of West Brompton Cemetary. Still no sign of Stamford Bridge anywhere..
Every once in a while we would see blue shirts, but they seemed to disappear once we decided to follow them. After a few sleep deprivation induced arguments we continue down Fulham Road. We cross a small bridge, and there it is…….STAMFORD BRIDGE.
We are set to meet up with Mick, and his wife Della, who have graciously purchased tickets for us in the third row lower Matthew Harding Stand. Diana spoke with Mick while I was getting ready, and we were to meet him at the hotel bar. After absorbing the pregame atmosphere of the huge complex, we make our way to the hotel bar.
Mick is easy to spot once we find the bar. He is sitting right were he said he’d be. We had a few beers with our new found friends, met a few people (including Chelsea legend Kerry Dixon!), had a laugh or two, bought our tickets from Mick and its SHOW TIME.
Once aboard the second flight, I relaxed a bit. Outside the window the de-icing machine was squirting us down. After 7 hours at O’Hare, we were finally on our way to London. Hopefully our flight would get in with enough time for us to check-in, shower, and be on our way to Stamford Bridge.
After all the sitting we had been doing, I decide that we should walk to the Bridge from our Kensington hotel. Looking on the map, it appeared to be a straight shot down two major roads, so there shouldn’t have been any problems. The walk down Gloucester Road was nice, except for the small confusion about the yellow bollards and which way to look while crossing the street.
Once we got to Fulham Road we started looking for an ATM. We surely didn’t want to pay the large ATM fees that Stamford Bridge was bound to have. We walked….and walked…..and finally came upon the gates of West Brompton Cemetary. Still no sign of Stamford Bridge anywhere..
Every once in a while we would see blue shirts, but they seemed to disappear once we decided to follow them. After a few sleep deprivation induced arguments we continue down Fulham Road. We cross a small bridge, and there it is…….STAMFORD BRIDGE.
We are set to meet up with Mick, and his wife Della, who have graciously purchased tickets for us in the third row lower Matthew Harding Stand. Diana spoke with Mick while I was getting ready, and we were to meet him at the hotel bar. After absorbing the pregame atmosphere of the huge complex, we make our way to the hotel bar.
Mick is easy to spot once we find the bar. He is sitting right were he said he’d be. We had a few beers with our new found friends, met a few people (including Chelsea legend Kerry Dixon!), had a laugh or two, bought our tickets from Mick and its SHOW TIME.
By this time the crowds were huge, electricity was in the chilled air. The walk to the Matthew Harding end plus the anticipation is pure excitement. We make our way through the tiny turnstiles and enter a sea of blue. I rush to the counter to get one last beer, but I miss by a few seconds. Unlike sporting events in the US, the beer stations are closed during the match…and forget about bringing any inside the seating area! (Luckily I had been warned about this before hand hahaha)We make our way up the steps and here it is……… the holy pitch and immense space of Stamford Bridge. Singing is echoing from every direction, the bright blue of the building itself and vibrant green of the pitch is overwhelming. We make our way down to our seats, below pitch level. Then it begins…..The Liquidator…..The team emerges from the tunnel. The crowd goes mad.
Chelsea clearly dominates the match, not as much as I would like against lowly Reading, but nothing is getting past Petr the great. Stephen ‘Berkshire’ Hunt is booed all night, and after some great work by Joe Cole we get to hear “He’s here he’s there he’s every f@#king where, Joey Cole” which leads into “He’s here he’s there he’s shagging everywhere Ashley Cole” After a header by Ballack, Chelsea is up 1-0.
At the half I enjoy a scalding hot pie and a coffee, and its time to head back to the seats. Second half is more of the same, but all the traveling is starting to settle into my body. At the end of the match we walk around the Broadway Fulham area looking for the SoBar. After wandering aimlessly, we ask a friendly officer where the SoBar is….after getting strange looks (the whole accent thing) and some giggles, he points us on our way.SoBar is packed and LOUD… at the time it was almost TOO much. We make our way through the crowd and to the tune of Que Sera Sera, order a few pints. Shortly after everyone clears out (pubs close EARLY in England) and we make our way to the Fulham Broadway tube station to get back to the hotel for some much needed sleep.
