In the Dog House

No, I’m not referring to the stadium. Big day, big game. The first FA-cup final in the beautiful new Wembley. The Dream Final, starring the winner and the runner-up of the league title. Stadium packed to impressive full capacity with fans; hundreds of thousands (millions?) of people eagerly watching on television all over the world. All set for a classic game, a game to remember, full of football of the highest quality from the best league in the world…

I managed to stay awake during the first half because I was standing up, during the second, when a kind man had offered me a seat in a freakishly comfortable sofa, it was increasingly difficult to do so. Looking at the bizarrely congested midfield scenes during the first half I sometimes forgot which team was attacking where; balls were always played backwards – attacks seemed to happen accidentally. 7 minutes for the first half-hearted attempt; another 7 before I realised that Ronaldo was actually playing. The only goal, which, to be fair to Drogba and Lampard, was a lovely one, came minutes before the goalless drudgery had to be ended in penalties. Now, I decided to watch the game partly because, well, you kind of have to, and partly because I hoped to be surprised. But deep down I was so sure that this was exactly what was going to happen that, in planning the rest of my evening, I had allowed extra time. The 90 minutes were up at 5.45 – so I told my friend I would meet her at 7…

Maybe I’m just being mean and bitter – I’m sure that the fans at the stadium had a splendid time – but I haven’t heard the phrase ‘dream final’ in conjunction with this game now that we have seen how it turned out. Whose dream was that again? In fact, so dull was the game that it was immediately forgotten in the media – unlike the unlikely story about José and the dog, which is still running. Mr Mourinho may be the best manager in the world, but what he undoubtedly excels at, on a scale utterly unattainable for his fellow mortals, is making headlines with absolutely nothing. And I’m sure that that is part of his greatness: few people remember to discuss the football played at Chelsea when they can discuss the latest sentence uttered by its manager – the drama and innuendo is better than a reality show. The dog added whole new a dimension and scope to this: The News Quiz on BBC Radio4, a football free zone even during international competitions, couldn’t refrain from mentioning José and his dog. Chelsea Football Club – Big Brother with balls. Boularouz will be voted out of the house next.

No, my dream final, so cruelly denied us, was Spurs beating Watford 5-2 in a thrilling display of attacking football. Even better, thus beating Manchester United! Actually, even being beaten by Man U would have been preferable – and certainly more entertaining for everyone else… Oh well, next season. Next up, the Champions League final, and dear, oh, dear, am I happy that it didn’t end up being between Chelsea and Manchester United.