A FEW FROM THE BRIDGE
Chelsea 5 West Ham 0
If you’ve ever seen your season leaving you like a train out of a station, the destination barely visible as the last carriage pulls off into the tunnel and beyond, headed fuck knows where… Well that’s what it feels like for West Ham at the moment.
Three years of absolute joy, trips to Europe and regular deserved victories against the top six sides at London Stadium, it has been a blast. And now, this…
‘Slaven Bilic has been sacked as West Ham manager with former Everton and Manchester United boss David Moyes set to replace him on an interim basis. Bilic, 49, departs with the club in the Premier League relegation zone.’
That was Monday 6th November 2017, with Bilic barely four months into his move to London Stadium, and a set of results the polar opposite to those he had managed to achieve with his positive football in the final season at Upton Park. Hammers’ fans sighed when they saw the ‘cheap’ option David’s’ Gold and Sullivan had dreamed up for them with ‘the third David,’ Moyes, set to join them on a six month ‘survival’ contract…’
This afternoon, nearly seven years later, his team are the same team that lost 5-2 at Crystal Palace a fortnight ago, with one exception, Edson Álvarez, West Ham’s magical Mexican midfielder who now has his own song. ED-SON!
West Ham start well in the first ten minutes, on the front foot, Kudus and Bowen showing expression and intent. And then Cole Palmer, the Manchester City want away, slams the loose ball into the net on the quarter hour, for his 21st goal of the season, in the Blues’ first attack. You can stick the blue flag up your arse. But it wouldn’t be the flag, really, would it? I know this might be the wrong time to get ‘quite literally’ about a football chant, but it would have to be the flagpole that you stuck up your arse, if it came down to it, not the flag. Though I accept that a bit of the flag might get in there, too.
Within three minutes Bowen is up at the other end to smash a powerful header against the bar. That would have been HIS 21st of the season. Yes, you know where this game is headed. Or at least I do. That’s the me that has just walked a mile through a cemetery to get here, as the London Undergound isn’t serving Fulham Broadway today. That’s the me who barely raises an eyebrow as Gallagher smashes in a second just a quarter of an hour later. FFS.
Now it just gets silly as Madueke taps in a third just six minutes later, and then Bowen manages his second effort off the bar before the first half is whistled away. Piece of shit.
Wasn’t David Moyes one of those managers who prided himself on his team’s defensive displays? Because no sooner are they out for the second half, than Madueke has selflessly set up Nicolas Jackson for Chelsea’s fourth. Jesus H. Christ on an electric scooter. Now Bowen completes his perfect hat-trick of efforts against the woodwork, and then sees a free-kick effort well saved by Pétrovic.
I look round to see a shitload of empty seats behind me. Collective noun? Four car park spaces of empty seats. The fans have slipped out silently while I was gawping like a fish. And now Caicedo slips Jackson in for his second and Chelsea’s fifth.
At the end of the game Cresswell, Ings, Ward Prowse, Souček, Coufal, Bowen and Ogbonna come over to applaud the few remaining suffering away fans. Paquetá and Emerson are already on the coach, and Areola, Antonio, Kudus and Zouma close behind them after half-hearted one hand clapping attempts on their walks off.
We hear later that Álvarez has had another ‘sick note sulk’ at half-time, repeating his cameo in the home game v Arsenal. Their ‘efforts’ will be remembered. Just what is happening? At least it’ll them busy appointing a replacement this week. Even Sully won’t be able to wait any longer. I know I can’t.
23 Alphonse Areola, 33 Emerson, 4 Kurt Zouma (captain), 5 Vladimir Coufal, 21 Angelo Ogbonna,, 19 Edson Álvarez, 10 Lucas Paquetá, 28 Tomas Souček, 9 Michail Antonio, 14 Mohammed Kudus, 20 Jarrod Bowen
Substitutes: 7 James Ward-Prowse, 3 Aaron Cresswell, 18 Danny Ings
Goal scorers: You’re having a laugh, obvs.
