I came across a post from my amigo and fellow hispanophile Phil Morrison this week. He kindly said that I could share it. Phil is one of 210 Chelsea supporters who contributed to this gorgeous little book. It is available on Amazon (and everywhere better) at a ridiculously inexpensive price. I commend it.

Phil Morrison

Age 72 (currently)

I was born in Clapham in 1951 at Nightingale Lane, just 3 miles from Stamford Bridge.

For the first five years of my life I was brought up in the environment of my grandparents’ home in SW17 where my mother’s eight brothers and sisters were also raised. Starting with my granddad, who was actually born and raised in east London (Bow), was an avid Chelsea fan and that filtered through the family right down to me.

I don’t know for the life of me, and it wasn’t for the lack of whinging and cajoling on my part, but I didn’t get to watch my first match at Stamford Bridge until I was nine years of age.

Over the years I conflated two closely played matches so that for a long period of my early life I thought my first time was against Braford Park Avenue in the FA Cup. It was in fact a league match against Leicester City on the 2nd January 1960 which ended in a 2-2 draw.

My uncles, Terry and Tom were regular attendees together with their friend Roy. Occasionally other uncles would appear but they were never devotees.

Anyway, my whinging and cajoling finally paid off as I was told that tickets for the East Stand were being purchased for a forthcoming cup match and one of them had my name on it. This was around late November but January seemed like a life time away.

One gloomy day and with little notice, I was told I was being taken to my first match against Leicester City, one week before the cup match with Bradford. Again, and to this day I don’t know why but we would be sitting in the East Stand because from these two occasions onward we never attended a home game where we weren’t stood on the terraces in front of the Bovril entrance.

On the big day I was collected by my uncles from my home in SW19. I bet my Mum and Dad were glad to see the back of me. Somebody gave me a bobble hat to wear, presumably on account of the cold and grey weather, however, it was light blue and when I half-heartedly complained I was told not to worry as it would double up for when we supported Cambridge in the university annual boat race. I didn’t realise we followed the boat race let alone supported one of the participants.

Anyway, off we set in uncle Tom’s light green Ford Consul towards Mitcham to pick up Roy, who I later also called uncle. He lived in Mitcham and I would soon learn that it was out of our way and so it added to what seemed like a long journey time of around 40 minutes. I should have taken a comic.

Depending on the traffic when crossing Wandsworth Bridge my uncles would gauge the size of the attendance taking into account the parking spaces around the gas works which was the favoured parking location. It was near an old pub sat upon a corner – it was a real big old boozer, packed and full of smoke which would waft my way when the door opened as I had to wait outside with a lemonade and a packet of Smiths crisps. I lost count of the number of times that my nose was tweaked unknowing that the following season Jimmy Greaves would tweak my nose on the return train trip from Molineux. Needless to say Jimmy Greaves was my boyhood hero.

It was a ten or fifteen minute walk to Fulham Road where everybody was heading in the same direction as us. I seem to recall we accessed the stadium through the main entrance, where uncle Terry bought a programme and collectively they bought me a rosette. We walked along the main stand to the east stand and queued up before pushing through the turnstile then up a flight or two of wooden stairs to our seats. The stadium and pitch looked big; I mean really big and the whole arena swallowed up the less than spectacular 24,000 spectators. Despite four goals, it wasn’t a spectacle and I had to wait one more week to watch Jimmy Greaves score a goal.”

Me? My first game Gillingham 1 Doncaster Rovers 1 February 1964. Gillingham went on to be Champions of the Fourth Division on Goal average. I still have the programme. My first Chelsea game was in 1972 against Ipswich. No real memory apart from the size of the crowd and how everybody moved 10 feet each time there was a goal or a near miss etc. (Health & Safety had not been invented then!) I still have the programme.

I asked around on Facebook for people’s first game and Man of Many Clubs, Lee Hermitage said, “Tottenham v. Sunderland, Saturday 20th September 1980. 0-0 draw, att 32,020. I still have the programme. ” He has even framed a montage. Look at the ticket price £3. Levy would have charged more!

If you are looking for sporting memorabilia have a butcher’s at the huge selection on his website

If you want to let me know your first game, I’d be delighted to add it on TheShirt2010

Chelsea : The First Time
Tim Rolls … and 200+ fans!

Nearly every football supporter recalls aspects of their first ever match. The journey. The sights and sounds and smells and tastes. The people. The pitch. The players. 

Chelsea: The First Time contains the first-game memories of over 200 Chelsea supporters. The earliest dates back to 1951, the latest is from 2019. 

Some are utterly hilarious, others deeply moving. Memories of a time gone by, of relations and friends no longer with us. Of a very different Stamford Bridge, of a very different atmosphere and crowd make-up.

The matches. 13-0 and 7-0 victories. 7-1 defeats. Glorious comebacks. Abject surrenders. Tedious draws. 

The stars. Roy Bentley. Jimmy Greaves. Bobby Tambling. Peter Osgood. Charlie Cooke. Alan Hudson. Ray Wilkins. Kerry Dixon. Pat Nevin. Ruud Gullit. Gianluca Vialli. Gianfranco Zola. John Terry. Frank Lampard. Didier Drogba. Eden Hazard. Fran Kirby.

Packed tube trains and buses. Being parked outside the pub with a bottle of pop while dad drank with his mates. Streets packed with spectators, an entirely new experience for wide-eyed youngsters. Vendors selling hot dogs, peanuts, rosettes and programmes. The smell of fried onions, unsavoury toilets, horse sh*t and cigarette smoke. The turnstiles. The packed (or not so packed) terracing. The first sight of the pitch. The players. The match itself (often a blur). The journey home. The company of family and friends.

The memories combine to give a wonderful impression of what watching Chelsea was like for impressionable youngsters over a period of nearly 70 years.

I wasn’t sure what to expect when I asked for contributions to this book. I expected maybe 100 and was amazed when I got more than twice that number, clearly written with feeling and from the heart. Together they create a unique picture of watching Chelsea for the first time was like from the days of rationing and national service, right through to the modern era.

I really enjoyed editing the book and I would hope it will be of interest to any Chelsea supporter, young or not-so-young.  

Editor’s note: (that’s me, Steve!) I am delighted to read that, “Net proceeds from the sale of the book is split between Hammersmith & Fulham Food bank and Barons Court Homeless Project, charities supported by Chelsea Supporters Trust.” See the bottom of the page.

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