“There’s no fun in being alone. This is no fun, it’s no fun at all. Ever get the feeling you’ve been cheated?”
Well, 1978 may have started with Johnny Rotten snarling those words at the audience as the Sex Pistols finally self-imploded at the end of their tour of the USA but little did I know that, with regards to our own performances and results, I could also say those same words as the upcoming season finally drew to a close; not cheated but certainly no fun in the most part.
Argentina won the World Cup in their own backyard while around the same time West Ham defender Frank Lampard (not Senior yet) and his wife Pat celebrated the birth of a son. They decided to call him Frank and he made his first appearance on 20th June 1978 away at Romford, Essex.
The season’s first game saw Everton scrape a 0-1 victory at The Bridge on 19th August but what I and my fellow Chelsea fans didn’t know was that, after beating Wolves away 0-1, we’d be waiting for our next victory some months later. Indeed, it wouldn’t come until mid-October.
Despite an atrocious run of performances and results, some things didn’t change; we could still go to White Hart Lane, score twice and get a draw despite being truly woeful in all other games especially as we leaked goals like a sieve; 2 at Bolton, 3 at home to Dirty Leeds, 3 away at Coventry, 4 at home to Man City, 1 away at Birmingham, 3 at home to West Brom and 1 away at Derby. Even New York Cosmos scored against us at The Bridge despite being relative newcomers to the football stage. Sorry, I mean soccer. Actually, no I don’t. It’s football, man, and it’s awesome dude.
Therefore, it was no great surprise when Bolton Wanderers Earthquakes came to Stamford Bridge on Saturday 14th October and took a 3-goal lead going in to half-time. With no change going into the final 18 minutes or so, it was damage limitation, surely? Well, no, not really. We’re Chelsea and we don’t do things by the book. Tommy Langley, Kenny Swain and Clive ‘Flasher’ (don’t ask) Walker tied the game before Sam Allardyce decided to pop up with our winner a minute before the end, the future England manager’s pain lasting about as long as his international career as he saw out the final 60 seconds.
My Uncle Charlie cemented his place in Chelsea-fan folklore as he insisted throughout the game that his beloved Blues would come back and eventually win 4-3, much to the howls of laughter and derision from those around him.
We were back! This would now turn our season around and we’d use this as a springboard for the rest of the season, right? Well, no. We’re Chelsea and we don’t do things by the book and so we decided not to win again until the following January.
Travelling up to Middlesbrough, we saw the return of The King of Stamford. Peter Osgood had returned to his spiritual family and had re-signed for us. As he scored that day at Ayresome Park (Awesome Park to the fans of New York Cosmos) things were surely on the mend as we were about to enter Seventh Heaven.
As I sat on a freezing cold train for hours and hours after eventually losing 7-2, a song was forming in my head: “Where were you when you were s**t?”
Just passing Darlington, I think.
Things improved enormously as we tightened up our defence, conceding a mere 5 away at Ipswich before restricting Nottm Forest to just 6 in a game at the City Ground in March. We were now doomed and lost by the narrowest of margins away at Highbury, only 5-2 this time.
It seemed to sum the season up for me, right there in my own North London backyard. Finishing bottom, it had been a right kick up the Arse(nal).
