Headed for disaster?

Not a knee jerk reaction to the Arsenal loss, though it has driven home some harsh realities.

The fall from grace has been very swift - we've gone from the most successful domestic season in our history to sitting outside the CL qualification spots, a league defence in disarray and a very likely chance that things aren't going to improve a whole lot in the immediate future.

I read someone say somewhere that Chelsea as a club are in a mess, and I fully agree.

For me the rot starts at the top. Roman has done the unimaginable for this club. He truly is 'The Special One' if there is such a thing. His love for the club is evident and needs no documentation. We probably wouldn't even be discussing something called 'Chelsea Football Club' right now had he not bailed us out of bankruptcy at the end of the 02-03 season. But he needs to do this club a favour - and get rid of those mugs on the board. Not naming names, but it's these 'advisors' that are ruining this club that everyone of us loves.

Is Carlo to blame? Some think so, I'm not so sure. As is public knowledge, he's 'managing' this ship in a straight-jacket. With no control over transfers, we can hardly blame him for the supposed duds that are Ramires and Zhirkov, or for the decisions to let go of the players we did last summer, or for not going after the likes of Ozil et al during the summer. He's given a list of names to work with and asked to get on with his job. What he does have control over however is the tactical and technical direction of the team. And it's plain to see that something is very wrong there. The team looks unable to cope with any opposition, everyone's gotten used to Chelsea's same old 4-3-3 that lacks pace, flair, balance. This is unacceptable. Carlo needs to change something, there's no use in flogging a dead horse.

Finally, the players themselves, the ones who're supposed to get us the results. I'm most disappointed with them. I can understand some of the blame can be attached to tactical mistakes by the boss, but surely the ones who're supposed to actually play out there on the pitch (and who get paid millions a month to do so) should be able to win us points. There's no passion, no determination, no anger at the state we're in (bar a couple). It's all okay to say the right things, but when 8 or 9 go missing in a game, you're truly fucked.

There's no logic in blaming Wilkins' exit for any of this. As popular as he was, and as important as he was, professional football clubs aren't affected this much by the loss of one man, however ridiculous the decision to get rid of him. We didn't do this bad when Jose left in a huff 3 years go. So is Wilkins' loss > Jose's? Dont' kid yourself.

Even though I can't see too many positives atm, I'm hoping the only way from here is upwards.

Like Drogba once said, 'Something is broken at Chelsea'.

Feeling of Loss pt 1

There was darkness all around him. Darkness, that would only be mildly interrupted by the lights of the occasional car that would pass by. Chief Inspector Mark Collinsworth kept his eyes on the road. Though where his mind was, even he didn't know. In a way the journey on this lost highway wasn't too different from the one he had undertaken long ago- been thrust into, he would sometimes think - the journey of his life. He was used to the darkness that enveloped everything around him. Darkness that wouldn't go away. Once in a while a ray of light would pierce through this dark cloak, only to struggle against its interwoven fabric that seemed intent on never letting go of him. Eventually that ray of light too would give up and go away, someplace else, where it had a chance. And all that would be left was silence. Gloom. Life. Or so they called it. He didn't know.

Yet, Mark liked the darkness that was keeping him company on this lost highway. He liked to see on the outside what he felt on the inside. It made him feel one with his surroundings. It gave him a sense of belonging. It comforted him in a weird sort of way. It let him blend in, yet escape at the same time. Lost in thought, yet tranquil, Mark wondered when would the road next take a turn.

Making his way along that winding road up the hill, his eyes caught a glimpse of the mayhem just beginning to unfold in the valley down below. Summer was in full earnest and that night was one of the hottest he'd experienced in all of the years he'd spent living atop the monolith they called Mount Vitriol. Forest fires were a regular occurrence this time of the year. The ravine glowed in some pockets, like fireflies milling about in the dark. The smell of cinder filled the air.

Yeah, Mark liked seeing on the outside what he felt on the inside.