21 02 2007 Porto 1 Chelsea 1
I just love European matches. Arriving the day before the match, it was my first time in Porto. It's a beautiful city with a
great balance of old and new... ancient buildings complimented by an excellent brand new transport system.
First day was spent on the tourism trail and every corner is stooped in history. The town is steeply banked on its river
meaning that bridges over the city are extremely high... also meaning that those less fit than Olympic athletes like me
struggled to walk far before feeling the strain especially after all the beer and fags I had (aren't I big and clever?)
First stop was to walk across one of the bridges to some monastery or other, while accidentally walking into their army
training base where I was asked if I was French. Eh? Strolling on rather sharpishly I crossed back over the bridge
admiring the breathtaking views. At the monastery I was at one with myself. I felt the Zen. The Ying and the Yang. Until in
the far distance the peace, quiet and tranquility was interrupted by a horde of Chelsea fans screaming, "Fuck 'em all!"
Rather than continue the tour I approached the bar to be confronted by familiar faces who had been drinking since
10am that morning and were all in good voice now at around midday. A few whiskies later and my good intentions of a
cultural tour had failed me. Time to check in and pass out for a couple of hours.
Upon my return the amount of fans around the waterfront had increased to about a hundred. All were in good spirits
although as usual when Chelsea travel to Europe you do get a minority of idiots singing Auschwitz songs and stuff about
loyalism that they do not understand.
In general though the atmosphere was superb and it goes to show that if you get treated right then you reciprocate. All
was fine until some local idiots decided to set of some fireworks outside the bar we were in... the bar nearly emptied and
as the police came along more Chelsea fans disappeared, leaving us cheery drunkards singing in the bar until the early
morn.
The day of the match was a drunken struggle. First port of call was the Boavista stadium. After a quick chat to the
groundsman I was allowed to go onto the Boavista pitch and take some photos of the stands. It can't fit more than
20,000 people but I loved the place. Oddly, the team play in black and white checked shirts and are known as the "Black
Panthers", which I am sure was a US civil rights movement. The groundsmen all wished Chelsea the best of luck and
wanted me to send their regards to Jose - at least I presumed that was what they said as I can't speak Portuguese. One
thing that certainly did not impress was the Boavista team coach which seems to only have enough room for three
players.
One thing is for sure - despite what the odd Portuguese spitter did at Stamford Bridge the locals do seem to love Jose -
one of their most famous and successful exports.
Back to the Waterfront and walking of the hangover had failed. The bars were now packed as those who had arrived on
the day of the game refreshed themselves. It was good to meet so many familiar faces... the majority of what is
enjoyable about football are the people who you meet and the time spent with like minded fans with one passion. The
football almost seems a bonus.
So off to the stadium to beat the rush and find a decent place for a few more beers. And there was nowhere to go in the
vicinity of the stadium apart from a large, new shopping centre situated right next to the ground. And what a waste of
time that was. The Estadio do Dragao is an amazing building with many open areas. Despite this it seems to retain its
atmosphere.
There were no problems entering the stadium, although it was surprising that Porto fans were allowed to enter through
the same turnstile as Chelsea fans. Even more of a surprise was that most of the stewards searching entrants were
female! Not that I am complaining of course. The facilities were excellent and the view very good... a refreshing change
for a European away.
The match began briskly and Chelsea looked very sharp. Unfortunately JT got injured again, and unlike Reyes for
Arsenal against Real Madrid last year, he took himself off the pitch to be treated rather than stay on and halt play.
During this time Porto scored a fortuitous deflected goal and for a moment it looked like Chelsea would fall away. The
stadium produced a lot of noise at this point. Pre game the announcer tried to get the crowd going by chanting,
"PORTOOOOO" but it was drowned out by Chelsea fans replying, "CHEELLSSEAA" a la "Miiiiilllllwall" which I had not
heard for many years.
One thing that I never understand is what "Ultras" means. I always thought it meant hooligan, but obviously it means
hardcore. There were two such "Ultras" sections: one opposite the Chelsea end and another back and to the right of it
where a multitude of flags swayed. The rest of the fans were more mundane, especially when Sheva scored a cracking
goal ironically set up my Robben who only came on because of JT's injury.
Thereafter the match was pretty even with Porto having the better chances. One was a tremendous save from Cech and
the other was when they unluckily hit the bar. And that was as much sympathy as they were going to get. It was
explained to me on the way to Heathrow by my cab driver (who happened to be Portuguese) that in this part of the world
cheating is not just rife: it is a way of life. Throughout the match Porto players tried to dive and foul at every opportunity.
What was stranger was how vehemently the crowd protested when they were not given a foul despite their players
blatantly falling over when they were barely touched. The sooner UEFA crack down on such playacting on the continent
the better... it has already cost Chelsea in the past when we have played in Europe and it certainly will in the future.
Towards the end of the game, Porto tired and Chelsea should have really taken them to the cleaners. Robben was
subbed at half time probably so Chelsea could defend better. Another goal and Chelsea would have been able to relax
more at home. 1-1 is still a magnificent result away at this stage in Europe but Porto are not that good a team. Chelsea
fans were begging for the wingbacks to come forward but to no avail.
We were kept in the stadium for one of the shortest times on record - barely 30 minutes.
The following day, and with many hours to kill before the plane back I went on the longest walk known to man and who
should pass me by but Roman Abramovich who looked like the most glum billionaire known to man. He grudgingly posed
for a photograph. Speaking to some fans from the Lincolnshire supporters' club further down the road, it appeared that
when they had asked him if he had enjoyed the game he gruffly replied, "no, not very much at all". If true, then it seems
Roman wants to play some sort of perfect football which is unrealistic in the Champions League. More probably he was
hoping not to bump into any Chelsea fans on his stroll around the coast.
A fantastic trip all round with many memories. Whenever I think of ditching my season ticket, it's the thought of missing
the European aways that always draws me back.
great balance of old and new... ancient buildings complimented by an excellent brand new transport system.
First day was spent on the tourism trail and every corner is stooped in history. The town is steeply banked on its river
meaning that bridges over the city are extremely high... also meaning that those less fit than Olympic athletes like me
struggled to walk far before feeling the strain especially after all the beer and fags I had (aren't I big and clever?)
First stop was to walk across one of the bridges to some monastery or other, while accidentally walking into their army
training base where I was asked if I was French. Eh? Strolling on rather sharpishly I crossed back over the bridge
admiring the breathtaking views. At the monastery I was at one with myself. I felt the Zen. The Ying and the Yang. Until in
the far distance the peace, quiet and tranquility was interrupted by a horde of Chelsea fans screaming, "Fuck 'em all!"
Rather than continue the tour I approached the bar to be confronted by familiar faces who had been drinking since
10am that morning and were all in good voice now at around midday. A few whiskies later and my good intentions of a
cultural tour had failed me. Time to check in and pass out for a couple of hours.
Upon my return the amount of fans around the waterfront had increased to about a hundred. All were in good spirits
although as usual when Chelsea travel to Europe you do get a minority of idiots singing Auschwitz songs and stuff about
loyalism that they do not understand.
In general though the atmosphere was superb and it goes to show that if you get treated right then you reciprocate. All
was fine until some local idiots decided to set of some fireworks outside the bar we were in... the bar nearly emptied and
as the police came along more Chelsea fans disappeared, leaving us cheery drunkards singing in the bar until the early
morn.
The day of the match was a drunken struggle. First port of call was the Boavista stadium. After a quick chat to the
groundsman I was allowed to go onto the Boavista pitch and take some photos of the stands. It can't fit more than
20,000 people but I loved the place. Oddly, the team play in black and white checked shirts and are known as the "Black
Panthers", which I am sure was a US civil rights movement. The groundsmen all wished Chelsea the best of luck and
wanted me to send their regards to Jose - at least I presumed that was what they said as I can't speak Portuguese. One
thing that certainly did not impress was the Boavista team coach which seems to only have enough room for three
players.
One thing is for sure - despite what the odd Portuguese spitter did at Stamford Bridge the locals do seem to love Jose -
one of their most famous and successful exports.
Back to the Waterfront and walking of the hangover had failed. The bars were now packed as those who had arrived on
the day of the game refreshed themselves. It was good to meet so many familiar faces... the majority of what is
enjoyable about football are the people who you meet and the time spent with like minded fans with one passion. The
football almost seems a bonus.
So off to the stadium to beat the rush and find a decent place for a few more beers. And there was nowhere to go in the
vicinity of the stadium apart from a large, new shopping centre situated right next to the ground. And what a waste of
time that was. The Estadio do Dragao is an amazing building with many open areas. Despite this it seems to retain its
atmosphere.
There were no problems entering the stadium, although it was surprising that Porto fans were allowed to enter through
the same turnstile as Chelsea fans. Even more of a surprise was that most of the stewards searching entrants were
female! Not that I am complaining of course. The facilities were excellent and the view very good... a refreshing change
for a European away.
The match began briskly and Chelsea looked very sharp. Unfortunately JT got injured again, and unlike Reyes for
Arsenal against Real Madrid last year, he took himself off the pitch to be treated rather than stay on and halt play.
During this time Porto scored a fortuitous deflected goal and for a moment it looked like Chelsea would fall away. The
stadium produced a lot of noise at this point. Pre game the announcer tried to get the crowd going by chanting,
"PORTOOOOO" but it was drowned out by Chelsea fans replying, "CHEELLSSEAA" a la "Miiiiilllllwall" which I had not
heard for many years.
One thing that I never understand is what "Ultras" means. I always thought it meant hooligan, but obviously it means
hardcore. There were two such "Ultras" sections: one opposite the Chelsea end and another back and to the right of it
where a multitude of flags swayed. The rest of the fans were more mundane, especially when Sheva scored a cracking
goal ironically set up my Robben who only came on because of JT's injury.
Thereafter the match was pretty even with Porto having the better chances. One was a tremendous save from Cech and
the other was when they unluckily hit the bar. And that was as much sympathy as they were going to get. It was
explained to me on the way to Heathrow by my cab driver (who happened to be Portuguese) that in this part of the world
cheating is not just rife: it is a way of life. Throughout the match Porto players tried to dive and foul at every opportunity.
What was stranger was how vehemently the crowd protested when they were not given a foul despite their players
blatantly falling over when they were barely touched. The sooner UEFA crack down on such playacting on the continent
the better... it has already cost Chelsea in the past when we have played in Europe and it certainly will in the future.
Towards the end of the game, Porto tired and Chelsea should have really taken them to the cleaners. Robben was
subbed at half time probably so Chelsea could defend better. Another goal and Chelsea would have been able to relax
more at home. 1-1 is still a magnificent result away at this stage in Europe but Porto are not that good a team. Chelsea
fans were begging for the wingbacks to come forward but to no avail.
We were kept in the stadium for one of the shortest times on record - barely 30 minutes.
The following day, and with many hours to kill before the plane back I went on the longest walk known to man and who
should pass me by but Roman Abramovich who looked like the most glum billionaire known to man. He grudgingly posed
for a photograph. Speaking to some fans from the Lincolnshire supporters' club further down the road, it appeared that
when they had asked him if he had enjoyed the game he gruffly replied, "no, not very much at all". If true, then it seems
Roman wants to play some sort of perfect football which is unrealistic in the Champions League. More probably he was
hoping not to bump into any Chelsea fans on his stroll around the coast.
A fantastic trip all round with many memories. Whenever I think of ditching my season ticket, it's the thought of missing
the European aways that always draws me back.
