Proud Man Walking

Obviously I do not get as physically tired as my players during the training camp, and so it generally happens that when they flop into bed exhausted (at least, I hope they do) I have a bit of time to myself. The usual phone call home, the usual scribbles in my notebook, jotting down plans and formations, and a chat with my staff, perhaps to find out how work is going with a specific player or more generally with the squad as a whole. All this and more, because after dinner, in the cool evening air, thoughts turn inevitably to what the coming season will, or at least might, hold in store. But this year had been different. There had been no time to think because, fortunately for us and thanks to the efforts of the club, the reality had materialized simultaneously with the dreams. I was in touch continuously with London, both in my mind and on the phone, as there was something important happening every day.

We had still not played our first friendly, a fixture against Lazio in Rome set for 18 July, when a second great piece of news arrived from Stamford Bridge. The Cameroon midfielder Geremi had been signed from Real Madrid for £7 million. I must say that I had had my eye on him for some years. In fact he could almost be considered a fixation of mine. I have always liked players who are tactically flexible, individuals with character who never give up and know how to defend. From what I had seen, before having him at my disposal on a daily basis, Geremi combined all of these qualities. It had been a blow to me when John Toshack, then the Real Madrid coach, plucked him from the Turkish club Glencler-birligi, and I freely admit I had already asked Chelsea to sign him the year before. Now that the resources were finally available to acquire him, he was one of the names I had put on my list. He signed for Chelsea on 16 July, straight after Johnson and on the same day that Eidur Gudjohnsen also renewed for three more seasons. This was a pleasing coincidence for me, as it served to underscore what I had always thought and said. The squad that had taken us into the Champions League needed to be improved if it was going to aim for yet higher things, but not discarded.

Just a few hours later, before sitting down to lunch the next day, I received another important telephone call. I was told that the Blackburn winger Damien Duff had flown to London to begin serious talks with Chelsea and to undergo a medical. In reality the deal was not looking quite so much of a certainty the next day, as we prepared to play our first game of the season. Understandably, Duff had wanted a little time to consider his future carefully. The papers put out the news that Manchester United were stepping up their interest in him, and all we could do was wait for him to make up his mind, confident that we had offered him an attractive deal and the prospect of an equally exciting adventure at the highest level. Damien is a player with many qualities. Tenacious, fast, always ready to shoot, a good crosser of the ball. He was the classic footballer, with something extra. When up against Blackburn Rovers in the past, my main problem had always been to keep him in check, and I had greatly admired him during the World Cup in Japan and Korea – in this instance without the anguish of being on the opposing side – when for me he was the one who shone for the Republic of Ireland team. Damien is highly inventive, and in addition, although he prefers to play on the left, he has the great capacity of being effective in more than one position. From the opposite wing, for instance, he can cut in and shoot dangerously at goal left-footed, curling the ball much in the same way as Chris Waddle used to do back in the 1980s. And this was not all. Soon after having him in the side, I found that by playing him in the hole just behind the forwards, where he had never been used before, he could deliver assists of pinpoint accuracy to the strikers – just like the best playmakers in the NBA.

There’s also a little secret I can reveal about Damien Duff. He is my mother Renata’s favourite footballer. She is forever telling me so on the phone, and if this were not enough, she also said so when interviewed on Sky Italia. She described him as Chelsea’s Nedved, and given that Juventus’s Czech international won the European Footballer of the Year award this season, it seemed an auspicious comparison. It meant I’d have to think twice before I substituted him, otherwise she would have something to say! But even my mother, just like Duff and all my other players, must understand not only that every decision taken is strictly in the interest of the team – this goes without saying – but also that in such an important season we cannot afford to wear anyone down physically, because at the crucial moment, everyone must be at their best. They need to be ready both physically and mentally.

This was one of my concerns when we were drawing up our prestigious and well-stocked player roster. Everyone wants to play and always to have a great game. This is nice, and this is how it should be, but I am there simply to take the decisions that can help Chelsea lift as many trophies as possible. Sometimes the choices are not easy to make, but if there is one thing I have always done it is to shoulder my responsibilities, and I knew I would do the same this time around, except that every decision would attract more commotion.

Waking up on the morning of 18 July, I thought straight away it was probably no accident that the most important season of my career would be starting with a match, albeit a friendly, in my native Rome. It was neither an advantage nor a disadvantage, simply a question of fate. Thinking about it, all the big events in my life have had their beginnings within sight of the Dome of St Peter’s. I was born in Rome, began my schooling there, and naturally my life in football began there too. I saw my first football match at the Stadio Olimpico, as a Roma supporter, and it was in that same stadium that I made my debut in Serie A, wearing the red and gold jersey. Now another important adventure was beginning for me, again in Rome, this time at the Stadio Flaminio, which is smaller than the Olimpico and decidedly seedier. It is attractive and has its own little history, but there is practically no football played there nowadays and it could do with rather more attention, although it has had something of a new lease of life in recent years since Italy began playing Six Nations rugby. The Flaminio also happens to be the sports ground nearest my current home in Rome, a nice apartment in the heart of the Parioli district, just a short walk away.

That game against Lazio was our first of the season, but precisely for this reason I was interested in just about everything bar the result. In any case this was not the real Chelsea, considering that of the new signings for the team we were building, only Johnson was playing and even he had only trained with us for two days. Nonetheless, the friendly in Rome confirmed to me that the eyes of the world were on our club, since as a result of the very fact that so much had been said about us, the stadium was full. Everyone had come to see puffed-up and ambitious Chelsea. We played as well as we could at that particular moment – in other words, not very well – and it was no surprise that we lost 2-0. Not that Lazio had outplayed us or shown themselves to be a stronger side, but they were at full strength and further ahead with their preparation, a factor which at this stage of the season makes all the difference in the world. We were still heavy-legged, whereas they were almost in top form and unquestionably brighter. Mr Abramovich was also in Rome to see the game, and I remember telling him not to be too concerned about what he had seen.

‘Not to worry, Mr Chairman, I’m sure we’ll come up against this side again in the Champions League, and then it will be a totally different story.’

I was ultimately proved right, though I would certainly not consider myself clairvoyant because of this. It was something I said, not in trying to justify the defeat, but because I genuinely felt it. I never like to lose, but in all honesty, even though it had happened in my home town and in our first match, I was neither disappointed nor annoyed. Certainly I was not worried, as I am old enough to be part of a generation that considered preseason friendlies as a way of easing into competition, with no weight attached to the results. These attitudes have changed rather in recent years, with television involved. Now there is pressure to win everything, instantly, and it is no accident that early games are contested between teams qualified for the Champions League, rather than amateur sides. I knew this was only a first semi-competitive outing, and played without most of the team we would be putting together.

The next day it was back to London for a short break before taking part in a fairly important tournament in Malaysia. The Asia Cup was organized directly by the Football Association, with entry determined by final placings in the 2002/03 Premier League table. Four teams were involved: the Malaysian national side, ourselves, Newcastle and Birmingham.

We had problems with the trip back, as there was a strike on at Heathrow and so some time was lost before a flight could be found to take the party to Gatwick. Nothing too serious of course, but because we had only two days’ rest I did feel a bit sorry for the players who were going home – I would be flying out straight from Rome – although I have to admit my mind was on other things, and above all on the transfer market. Duff had still not signed and the rumours linking him to Old Trafford continued to make the headlines, but I knew about the commitment and determination of our new owner, and when I happened to notice a girl leafing through one such paper at the airport, I had to smile.

Taking off at noon on Monday 21 July, we honestly did not know that this particular day would be potentially one of the most important in the club’s history. If not the most important, then certainly the most expensive. As we slipped across the skies on our way to Malaysia, two more players signed contracts with us: Wayne Bridge in the morning, and Damien Duff in the afternoon. A total cost of £24 million to the club, and a great double present for me and all the fans.

The flight lasted twelve hours and when we arrived in Kuala Lumpur at 7 am local time, aside from the good news, we were all a bit weary. Time for Professor Sassi to take charge of things. Tiredness and the need to get the body moving have to be balanced against the temptation to give in to jet lag and flake out on a bed. The lads did some stretching and a few exercises in the hotel, so that we at least avoided going straight out into the heat. I had taken my family along, certainly not with any intention of belittling the tournament, but because I felt that visiting the Far East would be a nice experience for them. Ultimately, no-one was disappointed because it was a genuinely constructive trip, from all points of view. The members of the squad began to get to know each other better, it was in Malaysia that the work done previously began to be put into practice, and while we were getting on with our job, my wife Rosanna and my daughter Claudia also enjoyed themselves, as I expected. I too was satisfied with the outcome, for all of the technical reasons mentioned, though in all honesty I never like going to such far-off places during the pre-season period. I worry about the effect of long hours in flight on the players’ legs and, especially in this particular case, the impact of a climate where the heat makes proper recovery impossible. I was afraid we might start off badly and that it could then have taken us more than a month to get back into optimum condition. We could not avoid the heat, as in any case it was sweaty even standing still, but on the other hand Sassi as usual had done his homework very carefully and we organized ourselves accordingly. We did a lot of stretching, and when training on the pitch we worked a great deal on ball possession.

It was also a pleasant experience from a social perspective, because all the teams stayed in the same hotel and this was a nice way for players and staff to meet, spend time and eat together; in other words, a chance even for opponents to enjoy each other’s company.

After a delay of twenty-four hours, Duff and Bridge also joined the party, accompanied by club doctor Neale Fraser who had completed their medicals. The jigsaw was not finished yet, but it was beginning to take shape.

That Wednesday there was also a highly enjoyable official reception with a banquet at the British High Commission, given in honour of the three teams, who naturally were present. The next day was a match day, but before the early training session (8.30 am was the only time of day to beat the climate), we received the news that we had been drawn in Geneva to face the winners of the clash between Maccabi Tel Aviv and Zilina in our qualifying round of the Champions League competition. Decidedly not the kind of tie one would have asked from a benevolent Hand of Fortune, but we did not pay too much attention. In the evening we were due to play, and we did so in front of 20,000 enthusiastic spectators.

As the highest placed of the three Premier League teams at the end of the last season, our first match in the tournament was against the Malaysian national team, and on paper it should have been easy. Looking at the scoreline afterwards, there had in effect been a difference between the sides, although we had to sweat to make the final – in the true sense of the word! The heat was stifling and the opposition, being used to it, were extremely quick on their feet. We went ahead through Forssell after 35 minutes and they equalized four minutes later. Then in the second half we stretched away with goals by Hasselbaink, Gudjohnsen and Johnson. In addition to the goals and the win, I made a record in my notebook of two assists by Duff.

The next day was Saturday and I left the players free to do as they pleased, not as reward for a victory that might have been taken for granted and which clearly had no great significance, but because recharging the batteries is always very important. As for me, I took the opportunity to dedicate some time to Rosanna and Claudia. I don’t want to sound precious and in any case I am simply not the type, but obviously they are the most important part of my life and to have them there made me very happy. And their presence perhaps forced me to take a break mentally, as I needed to, otherwise I know I would have spent my time on more plans, deals and ideas for next season. Taking the mind off the job at that moment would be good for me as well. We went to see the Butterfly Park and the Bird Park, which were beautiful and relaxing. Then when the time came for lunch we sought out a typical Malaysian restaurant. In London, which is a wonderful city from this point of view and with so much to offer, Rosanna and I try out every kind of cuisine possible and imaginable (Claudia lives mostly in Rome where she is studying Political Sciences at university). So what better occasion to enjoy a good meal than this? Fortunately we did the rounds of the market after eating, because on one of the stalls we saw something – my daughter and I didn’t have the courage to ask what animal it might be – that looked rather like a chopped up rat.

A little shopping next, and for my daughter this is very rare, but to round off the day we went to try a Thai massage. The best place, they told us, was in a hotel situated on the other side of a lake from our own. Getting out of the boat, we also walked across a golf course, which at sunset was a truly enchanting spectacle even for me, although (don’t hold it against me) I never play the game at all. Once they had shown us into the special rooms we were curious to see how it was all done, and with what kind of ceremony, who we might meet … European managers? Local politicians? Then the doors opened wide and who did we find? Of course! Some of my very own players, including the inseparable Bridge and Johnson who, quite rightly I must say, had had the same idea as us. It was both an experience and a way to relax.

On Sunday, with news arriving from London that the negotiations with Manchester United to bring Seba Veron to Stamford Bridge that had started a while back were still deadlocked, we took the field for the final. This time there were nearly 42,000 spectators on the terraces, and what is more, we had Newcastle as our opponents. In this match we definitely played well, even if the score remained 0 – 0 after 90 minutes. And there was a good performance from Alexis Nicolas, who had a start in this game. The young Cypriot midfielder regularly captains our reserve side trained by Mick McGiven, a man of great importance to our club. To decide the destination of the trophy we had to go to penalties, and at 3 – 2 we really thought we had it won, because next up was Jimmy, and he had never missed from the spot for us. But their keeper Given surpassed himself by diverting the ball onto the post, and after Bellamy then scored it was down to sudden death. John Terry (JT) put away his kick and at that point it was the turn of Jermaine Jenas. He tried to chip the keeper, but incredibly sent the ball right over the bar. Instinctively I looked at Bobby Robson, realizing in the same instant that we had won our first trophy. He was furious, and still fuming in the dressing room, so I believe. Terry was captain and it was he who lifted the Cup, which I trusted would not be the last of the season. It was also my first trophy with Chelsea, and, hoping it would be the first of a big collection, back in the dressing room I picked up JT’s jersey, which had the Asia Cup emblem blazoned on the arm (like the Premiership emblem on our regular jerseys). I got John to autograph it subsequently at Stamford Bridge. And so we left Malaysia decidedly wealthier in practical experience and memories, and with one indelible image – our fitness coach, Roberto Sassi, naked on the table in the middle of the dressing room (a good thing he’s small …) dancing with the Cup tight in his grasp. One thing I could be sure of: I already had the makings of my squad.

AUGUST

‘The squad has changed … rotation is going to be a fact of life’

Back in London and immediately there was the media to face. The first of August was the day of our presentation press conference. Everyone sun-tanned and looking relaxed, this was always an enjoyable time, although this year there was so much to talk about. The presentations alone took up an enormous amount of time, almost two hours, and, as I expected, the attendance was massive. There was no Macho unfortunately, due to his injury, but all the other new signings were present: Geremi, Johnson, Bridge, Duff and Ambrosio. This was a day, I would say, when we had definite confirmation that our squad would be the cover story of the season. No pressure as far as I was concerned, simply an exciting situation.

To be honest, the nice part was that the presentation was a foretaste of more to come, though at the time there was no certainty about the next move. Well actually, I did have an idea or two …

In fact, there would be another red-letter day just four days later. Two new purchases. And not just any two players, but Seba Veron from Manchester United and Joe Cole from West Ham. And in one shot! Brilliant. Really and truly, a manager could hardly ask more of a club. For most of my counterparts in the league, even one from a possible two would be a dream, let alone getting both. On the other hand, a club with big ambitions needs high-quality players, and these two were at the very top of my list. The great thing was that Chelsea had managed to keep me happy, bearing in mind the value of the players and their importance to our plans. First it had been Bridge and Duff, and now another brace of top players had arrived at Stamford Bridge on the very same day.

Joe Cole is an investment for the future, but he will be useful in the present too. He really is a natural talent like few others, and has a Latin streak, with his unpredictability and imagination. But this is not all. In my opinion he has incredible potential for improvement. He needs to develop a little self-control, precisely because he is so eager, always wanting to dribble, using up too much energy in the middle of the park. He can and must learn to do all this in the final third of the pitch, where such skill can be deadly. For the good of the team and especially for his own, I hope to be able to contribute to his improvement as he gains experience by playing. He could be an important factor in my plans to open up opposition defences on days – and who can say why, but even now I sensed there could be quite a few – when we happen to find them packed tight.

As for Veron, obviously there is nothing I want to teach him. He is already one of the world’s best midfielders, in my opinion. He failed to hit top form at Manchester United for a number of reasons, but with us I feel sure it will be a very different story. I will certainly be looking to exploit his desire for the chance to shine again. The desire all great players have. And then again, I am used to working with Argentinian players, having coached Gabriel Batistuta at Fiorentina and Claudio Lopez at Valencia, to name just two.

If encouraged and given free rein to show his class, Seba can change the face of our team. The thing I liked immediately, in addition to everything I already knew about him, was his personal approach. When we spoke for the first time after his contract had been signed, he showed a tactical flexibility and an appetite for work that will help us make great strides, I feel sure.

Having got over our jet lag, training was again fully underway and we were ready to resume our schedule of pre-season friendlies, fortunately all in and around the London area this time, so we would avoid the burden of travelling. I cannot really speak for my English colleagues, but where pre-season games are concerned, I certainly hold with the Italian school of thought. Friendlies are simply the best way of measuring workloads. Our usual practice is to work especially hard on the pre-season training camp, and the first few matches then serve to put the players under a little extra competitive stress. That is the usefulness of these games, rather than the results themselves.

The first was against Crystal Palace, at Selhurst Park, where we quickly went 1 – 0 up through Mikael Forssell, who really does continue to fulfil his promise. He has a remarkable strike rate, obviously a factor to keep strongly in consideration, along with the unqualified admiration I have for him. He has a goal-scoring instinct typical of the great strikers, and I know he has a great future in store. Mika is a fighter on the pitch, but he has the right attitude in training too. It has happened more than once that I have had to get him out of the gym or off the pitch, for fear of him overdoing his training. He always has the right outlook, and this I like. Clearly, he will need time to make a full recovery after the serious knee injury that has sidelined him for almost a year, and for his own good this means plenty of games – something we cannot guarantee here at Stamford Bridge, particularly given the number of star forwards in the squad. In the interests of everyone concerned, we need to find him somewhere to play. He has admirers in several leagues – in Serie A, in La Liga in Spain and above all in the Bundesliga where he has already played on two occasions – but I would prefer him to go and play in a Premiership side so we can keep a close eye on him and measure his progress against our own standards.

We ended up winning the game against Palace 2 – 1, thanks to a Geremi free-kick at the end of the first half. For me this was nothing new, but with the trajectory he conjured up to beat the wall, many eyes were probably opened to the abilities of this young man, not least his shooting power. Perhaps a friendly against Crystal Palace on their own ground was not the ideal place for Geremi’s prowess at free-kicks to emerge, but now we all knew that this was one more weapon we could count on.

If anything surprised me at all, it was the number of people who had come out on a hot August afternoon to watch a friendly. There were over twenty thousand spectators in the stands. On the other hand, there were two factors at work here: the huge support given by Chelsea supporters anywhere and everywhere, which I was already familiar with, and the interest in our team shown by football fans generally, which I was coming to appreciate.