Blogger from America

Stephen Rea is the author of the book Finn McCool's Football Club, a tale of supporting Chelsea from the United States, the formation of a pub football team in New Orleans and the devastating effect of Hurricane Katrina on that city. In this blog, Belfast-born Stephen gives a flavour of life as an ex-pat lifelong fan among Chelsea's rapidly-expanding support in the States. Visit his site here : www.stephen-rea.com

Posts by Blogger from America:

MEMORIES FLOODED BACK

This month I got to see Chelsea play at Wembley, 13 years after my last visit. It wasn’t as enjoyable.

The last time I watched the Blues there was in May 2000 for the FA Cup Final win against Aston Villa. In truth it wasn’t a memorable match and I’m struggling to recall anything about it. That is what the history books are for, to remind us about another glorious trophy-lifting day that was added to our burgeoning collection. Back then winning anything was a major celebratory occasion, while reaching the knockout stages of the European Cup was reason enough for a day off work.

I certainly don’t yearn for those pre-Roman days, the years of wandering in the football wilderness, but this trip to the site of the former Twin Towers did have me wallowing in nostalgia for other non-sporting reasons, because I flew the Atlantic to see a dying relative.

I spent a lot of time with my grandmother when I was growing up, going to her house every day for lunch and then again after school, waiting there until my mum finished work. She had been in a nursing home for more than a decade and never recovered from a chest infection picked up in the winter. As March progressed her health deteriorated, and after considering it for the better part of a month I booked a flight home, both to see her one last time and also to help my mum and aunt with the funeral arrangements.

I hadn’t been back to Britain in two-and-a-half years, and after weeks of dithering and a 20-hour journey home I made it to her bedside just minutes before the heavy morphine injection knocked her unconscious, and less than 19 hours before she died. So the journey was worth it – the equivalent of a last-gasp 97th-minute equalizer you might say.

Anyway, I took the opportunity to nip across from Belfast to London for the semifinal, 19 years after I had first seen Chelsea play at Wembley, against the other team from Manchester (well, Salford) in the 1994 FA Cup Final. Another unhappy day by the way.

So in light of the circumstances you may appreciate why I wasn’t too downhearted by the result. The match was a wee bonus – a “lagniappe” as we say in New Orleans. Something a little bit extra, something that I wasn’t expecting. Normally when you live on the other side of the world, and only get to the UK infrequently, you plan trips around weddings, holidays, birthdays, Chelsea games… and cram as much as possible into your two weeks. This time it wasn’t like that. I went home for a specific reason and the Blues game was secondary. In the best cliched tradition of the non-league part-timers who get mauled by a Premiership outfit, I was just happy to be there. I probably would have been more disappointed if I had been watching it on TV in the pub in New Orleans. The fact that we didn’t turn up for the first half, and didn’t get going until we were 2-0 down, also meant that I couldn’t complain about the result.

The night before I flew to London for the match, I met an old friend who mentioned it was his wedding anniversary. Once he said that the memories flooded back – he was hitched the day before the FA Cup semifinal against Wimbledon in April 1997. He got married in the middle of nowhere deep in the wilds of Northern Ireland on the Saturday, and I well remember dragging myself out of bed at the crack of dawn the next day to drive to Belfast to catch the first flight to London to make it to Highbury for the noon kickoff. After a heavy night celebrating some of my friends had not even made it out of bed in time to watch the contest, never mind rising early enough to fly to a different country to actually be there.

But my favourite memory of that day is my aunt calling me after the game to congratulate me on Chelsea reaching the final. She told me, “Even your granny was doing a little jig around the room.”

So despite the sadness of my journey home, and the disappointment of my trip to Wembley, when I think about that dance by my granny – delighted because her only grandson would be so happy with our victory – it will always make me smile. And with another trophy still to play for, maybe I’ll get to jig a wee bit in her honour before this season ends.

Stephen Rea is the author of the book Finn McCool’s Football Club, a tale of supporting Chelsea from the United States, the formation of a pub football team in New Orleans and the devastating effect of Hurricane Katrina on that city. Visit his site here: www.stephen-rea.com or friend him at www.facebook.com/stevorea

CARING ABOUT THE CUP

I spent today sorting beads. Before I lived in New Orleans, this was a phrase that I never thought a middle-aged man should write.

We have just had Mardi Gras season – Carnival to be precise, Mardi Gras (Fat Tuesday) is only one day – and that meant parades rolling down the street two blocks from my house. Lots and lots of parades.

So what with my five-year-old daughter, and the visitors who stopped by, and the guests who stayed with us, we have been deluged by masses of beads, mounds of plastic trinkets piled up in our living room. This afternoon I finally untangled them all and placed them in bags with the good, the bad and the ugly. Normally they would get thrown into the attic to sit beside with the other bags accumulated after nine years here, but as I’m riding in the St Patrick’s Day parade next month it was worth the effort so I can recycle them to throw from our float.

Anyway, I mention this because, as I usually do when I’m carrying out manual labour around the house, I put on a football talk radio station and listened to it while up to my elbows in plastic shiny baubles. Much of what I heard today centred around the FA Cup, and although I only caught part of the Brentford game. I’m delighted we played (practically) our first team and progressed.

So it is amazing to me that teams do not seem to want to win the FA Cup. Truly, truly amazing. But I should qualify that a little.

I understand that if you have a big game coming up in a few days you may want to rest players if they’ve had a particularly packed schedule. Yes, I get it that you may not want to risk your best player – say Zola in the late nineties. Home to Burton Albion two days before you play Barcelona in the European Cup semifinal? Sure, use the squad.

But how many clubs have been in this privileged position over, say, the last five years? Us and Manchester United. That’s it. Some of the decisions by Premier League managers over the last decade have staggered me.

Bolton Wanderers reached the last 16 of the UEFA Cup five years ago after finishing seventh the previous year and sent a reserve team to the away leg. Crazy, absolutely crazy. When will they have that chance again? You support your team and follow them through thick and thin for years because one year you might have a decent side, qualify for a European competition, and then get a glamour trip to one of the giants of world football. And if you do then you want to compete.

Every year probably only four teams can win the league, leaving 88 clubs battling it out for two trophies. And you aren’t even going to try in those two? It’s more important to finish ninth rather than twelfth in the Premier League?

Much of today’s conversation focused on our North London neighbours in red, and their attitude towards the domestic knockout competitions is even more baffling. No trophy in eight years. Almost a decade without a single piece of silverware and that’s one of the very top clubs in the land. Because it’s more important to finish fourth and qualify for the Champions League. Really? Why? Because of the money? What do they spend the money on, better players? Do those players not come because they want to win things? Or is it more important – as has been the case for years now – that they play in the Champions League group stage against the Greek league winners and then get one more knockout tie? Wonderful.

Last season Gary Neville suggested that Chelsea had little chance of defeating Barcelona and should instead concentrate on finishing fourth to qualify for the same competition the next year. Even with the benefit of hindsight this is just so stupid – what is the point of entering the thing if you aren’t going to try and win it! It defies logic. At the start of the season did anyone amongst the 70 million people in Britain think this year’s League Cup final would be between Bradford and Swansea?

Now don’t get me wrong – a European Cup semifinal v Bayern Munich or Real Madrid is obviously more important than a fifth round League Cup game against Stockport. Money, money, money… I get it.

But let’s try our hardest and put out our best team in an effort to win the trophy, whether it’s the League Cup, the European Cup, or the World Club Cup.

Now if you will excuse me, I’ve got beads to sort. And strings of red ones to throw in the bin.

Stephen Rea is the author of the book Finn McCool’s Football Club, a tale of supporting Chelsea from the United States, the formation of a pub football team in New Orleans and the devastating effect of Hurricane Katrina on that city. Visit his site here: www.stephen-rea.com or friend him at www.facebook.com/stevorea

TO REST OR NOT TO REST?

A NEW EXPERIENCE

Chelsea taking on a side from Mexico for the right to play a Brazilian team in the final of the Club World Cup. In Japan. Wow.

 Scarborough putting us out of the League Cup in 1989 seems a lot way away, right?

 I admit it, I’m excited about the competition. Now if it was any other English outfit – hell, any other team period – I couldn’t care less. Really now, with the cut and thrust of the Premier League, the weekly battles against your local rivals for national supremacy, who could possible be bothered about a wee mid-season jaunt to the other side of the planet to take part in a crackpot cup with a bunch of teams no-one has ever heard of? Nobody, right? Well, unless of course it’s your club. Then you are just three hours away from being crowned the official Champions of the World. By FIFA no less, and everyone knows they never get anything wrong.

I would love to be there right now. Is Japan cold this time of year? I don’t care, and even though as I write here in Southern Louisiana the sun is shinning, the sky is blue, and the temperature may get into the seventies, I’d still rather be huddling against the rain / wind / snow / bright sunshine, or whatever it is that the Blues fans are experiencing in the Land of the Rising Sun. Like many longtime (and often long-suffering) Chelsea supporters, I jump at the chance to hit a different destination.

Fans love it when a new club gets promoted as it brings the promise of an inaugural away trip to somewhere like Swansea or Brighton. Similarly it’s great when we draw a lower league or even non-league team away in a cup competition and experience a new ground – and maybe a few new pubs as well. And for flip’s sake don’t get me wrong – I’m devastated that we are out of the Champions League – but if there is one faint, microscopic, sliver of silver lining, it is that we get to enter a new competition, play on a Thursday for a change, “enjoy” a new experience, and possibly meet a few new opponents. I know, I know, we would still rather be battling against Real Madrid in the Bernabeu. But glass half-full and all that, eh?

I had hoped to be in Tokyo this week, and a trip to Asia for this tournament was going to be my consolation prize after missing out on Munich. I should have been writing this blog between eating sushi, trying on a kimono and buying a windup Godzilla that shoots sparks from his mouth. You may laugh, but I did actually buy one of these the last time I was in Japan. No idea what happened to it. You would think I would have taken more care of such a prized Japanese artifact actually.

But a combination of things too depressing to list has meant I will be following the action from the comfort of my wooden Creole cottage in New Orleans, at the Gawd-awful hour of 430am. Now I know what if feels like to be a Chelsea fan on the West Coast, and I’m sure the rest of us supporters Stateside will have a better appreciation of the dedication and loyalty of those in California who drive AN HOUR to the pub to watch matches which kick-off at 1230pm in the UK. At least I only have to fall downstairs to my sofa.

So label it however you like, and I’m sure there are plenty of pundits who will refer to the Club World Cup with words like “distraction”, “unnecessary”, and, “waste of time.” But right now I’m like a kid on Christmas Eve. And winning the title of Best Club Team on Earth would be a perfect Yuletide gift.

Stephen Rea is the author of the book Finn McCool’s Football Club, a tale of supporting Chelsea from the United States, the formation of a pub football team in New Orleans and the devastating effect of Hurricane Katrina on that city. Visit his site here: www.stephen-rea.com or friend him at www.facebook.com/stevorea

COMPLICATED CHOICES

Chelsea versus Manchester United is a huge match, and if anything its importance has grown in the last decade. When I was a boy in Belfast, and the Blues were yo-yoing between the top two divisions, the games against the reds from Manchester and Liverpool were the most eagerly anticipated of the season. At least it was for me, as the overwhelming number of football fans on both sides of the Irish border picked one of these teams from the North-West to be “their” side, although maybe Spurs and Arsenal were the big matches for Chelsea supporters living in and around the capital. Nevertheless, it was often immense battles against the red giants even if frequently it resembled David v Goliath.

Since Roman bought us of course the playing field has been levelled, and recently we have frequently been the favourites, even at the once-impregnable stronghold of Anfield. But anyway, the point is that Chelsea v Manchester United is a massive contest, no matter which way you slice and dice it. And at this stage of the season, when it’s first against second like it was last month, it’s the most important league game of the year to date.

For most of the year Louisiana is six hours behind the UK, but for a couple of weeks in the autumn / fall, it’s down to five hours because clocks in the USA go back later than at home. Normally this is great – 1230pm kick-offs in England allow an extra precious hour in bed, while 530pm Saturday starts become 1230pm and give you the rare luxury of watching weekend football in the afternoon. For the Manchester United contest though this worked against me. Typical.

My local pub has two Sunday morning football teams, a Firsts and a Seconds. Being an old man who was not very good even when I was a young man, I play for the Seconds. However our second string can act like a feeder club, sending the best players from our bunch of cloggers onto a side who may actually play some decent football. Much like Spurs.

So what with losing players, others out of town, some away coaching, etc it meant that we were struggling to field 11 players for our noon game on a pitch 10 minutes away from Finn McCool’s, the bar showing the match. Normally the Chelsea game would be on at 10am local time, giving me enough time to watch it and make it to our match in time (kinda) for kick-off. Instead the Blues were on at 11am meaning I had to decide: watch the game or play for Finn McCool’s.

You see, it’s complicated. For a start, Finn McCool’s isn’t just any old pub team, but the club I helped start almost eight years ago. I was at the original meeting to set it up – in fact, I’m the only person left from that original get-together still playing. I’m also the only original from our first game currently playing this season. And I wrote a book about what we went though before, during and after Hurricane Katrina. You get the point: it’s my team and I feel a deep sense of loyalty.

But we had already lost our first two league games, and in our short twice-yearly season we only play 10 matches. In the opening seven days of the campaign we were already out of the running to defend the title we won (undefeated by the way) last season. In the great scheme of things, or even the small scheme of New Orleans Sunday morning football, another defeat wasn’t going to matter.

So all sorts of plots and subplots swirled in my head when I went to the pub to watch the match. I was stripped and ready to play, poised to dash to the pitch, or maybe I’d just watch Chelsea and turn up for the second half. Or not.

My Liverpool-supporting friend from Grimsby who also plays on the team had gone to Finn’s earlier for the Merseyside derby then left to play in our match. He called from the field – 10 minutes to kick-off and we only had nine men. It was half-time at Stamford Bridge. Yes we were 2-1 down, but it was obvious the second period was set up to be a corker. We were going to come flying at them. The momentum was with us. You just knew it was going to be full of drama and excitement.

But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t stay to watch. I couldn’t abandon my team. Even for Chelsea v Manchester United.

So I jumped in the car and drove to the park – and when I got there I was the 13th player. Three others had turned up late. But in the sultry Louisiana heat, which even at the end of October can climb close to 90 degrees, you need substitutes. That’s why the league rule is rolling subs. So I played most of the game and we won 5-2 for our first victory of the season. So that was great, and I’m glad I made the effort.

Across the world on a chilly evening in London, the outcome wasn’t as good. But despite the football conflict and that result – indeed, any result – I know I’m still a True Blue loyal fan.

Stephen Rea is the author of the book Finn McCool’s Football Club, a tale of supporting Chelsea from the United States, the formation of a pub football team in New Orleans and the devastating effect of Hurricane Katrina on that city. Visit his site here: www.stephen-rea.com or friend him at www.facebook.com/stevorea