Proud Man Walking by claudio ranieri

Author:claudio ranieri
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-10-03T16:00:00+00:00

Chelsea v Liverpool, Stamford Bridge, 7 January 2004

And so the Reds were back at Stamford Bridge, bringing lots of memories with them. Two recent Chelsea victories – one at the end of last season ensuring our Champions League qualification and the other at the start of this campaign with a new Abramovich-financed team – flashed through my mind, both hugely important in the history of our club. Thinking about it, in fact, both were crucial for my own career too, at least in England.

This was a key fixture and it had to be prepared for and experienced as such. I knew perfectly well that they were expert at getting behind our midfield line, and so I feared that if we tried to play four across, we would be in too much difficulty. Unfortunately we were still not very well organized in defence when playing with a flat midfield. This was something we had to work on. I decided to adopt my favoured diamond formation, playing Joe Cole off the strikers, Geremi on the left, Lampard on the right and Makelele in front of the defence. On the morning of the game, Crespo did his warm-up as usual with the rest of the party, the doctors pronounced him fit to play, and so I started him together with Mutu in attack.

Before the game, Eriksson came to see me in my dressing room. He had already been to see Gérard Houllier and he asked what I thought about the prospect of a winter break. I said I was still in favour, as I had stated jointly with him and other managers at a meeting held the previous year after an official Football Association dinner. A smile, a handshake, then he wished me good luck and took his leave. As he walked out of the room, he turned left outside the door. ‘Where are you going, Sven?’ I called after him. ‘That’s the way to the players’ dressing room. At least wait until summer!’ We all burst out laughing, although he did blush a little. But it was a genuinely enjoyable moment, and all completely spontaneous.

I was less inclined to laugh after the game. Crespo felt the problem with his calf flare up after little more than five minutes, and he had to come off. This was regrettable, because it left us all with egg on our faces. Hernan himself, for wanting to play at all costs, the medical staff for giving him the all clear, and me for letting myself be persuaded. For starters, in a game against Liverpool we had wasted a substitution after only a few minutes. But worse still, the risk of being without a striker for a few weeks was a distinct reality. We lost 1 – 0, but I still went into the dressing room and congratulated the team. We were going through a sticky patch, we were in difficulty with injuries, and the boys had given everything they had. I could not have asked for more.

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