Craven Cottage Newsround

We could’ve taken Stamford Bridge.   Fulham’s injury hit heroes stormed the rival Chelsea turf, first inhibiting this most expensive of sides, then leaving them wheezing on the ropes, gasping and praying for the final whistle.  And if it wasn’t quite that one sided in real life I’m having a lot of fun remembering it that way.

We sang and sang and sang, and the lads responded.  The irrepressible Moritz Volz, rapidly becoming the complete footballer (I know) surged in to give us an early lead.  It was the 15,000th goal scored on the Premiership gravy train, and came somewhat as a shock; Chelsea had previously fired 4-5 balls all the way across our six yard box and were sniffing blood at that point.  Then came a huge moment, as a handy move ended with Wayne Routledge in a position to make it two.  He was moving across the ball and it wasn’t an easy chance, but a hard and low finish into either corner would’ve given Halario no chance.  Instead his side-footed strike missed the target high.

Chelsea started to muscle in on our fun, and if anyone had said “Frank Lampard will equalise with a deflected shot” I would not have disagreed.   The ball fell to the edge of the D, which is exactly where Lampard does his damage, and bang his strike whizzed into the bottom corner via Liam’s heel.  It was unlucky, but a fair reflection on how the game was developing.

In the second half Noah’s own rain joined us, falling down in a mass of water then curving under the East stand roof in the wind, thereby drenching many Chelsea fans.  Ho ho ho.

If Lampard’s strike was familiar then so was Drogba’s, heading home from close in to give his side the lead.   A lead that at first seemed unlikely to be clawed back, but once more Fulham found another gear.  McBride’s header was well-saved by Hilario, and we drove on and on.  Half-chances came and went, but inside the last ten minutes Hilario again denied McBride and the ball came back into open play.  This was one of those car-crash moments, where the whole world suddenly moves really slowly.  It took forever to fall to Carlos Bocanegra, whose body language was that of a man who was about to score an important goal.  It was not in doubt.  Ball rolled on, Carlos shaped, steered, and yep, in she went.  Two-two!

The rest of the match was spent shouting the goalscorer’s name to the tune of the conga.  It was magnificent stuff, and Fulham’s heroes continued to pile on the pressure to the last.   When Howard Webb finally blew it felt strange; we had held Chelsea at the Bridge, but will there ever be a better chance to beat them there?  Ah, I’m being silly, it was terrific, and the players were brilliant.

There was a world class German central midfielder on display today… and he was wearing white.   There was an industrious, effective but skillful English central midfielder on display today, and so was he.   Whatever happens in the transfer window, the Brown and Volz midfield pairing is a joy to behold.  These two can do a bit of everything, and like the Terminator, they will not be stopped in their mission.   Behind them Christenval is showing that he’s probably our best passer, and can still defend as well as he needs to, while Bocanegra handled everything Chelsea threw at him then scored that vital, vital goal.   With Niemi this back 5 is a terrific spine on which everything else can build and flourish.

Radzinski was as good as he has been for us, Liam did his bit, and McBride and John made themselves known.  Franck’s injury induced radar failure still remains a problem, but his tackling and his heart make up for this.  Routledge flattered to deceive for much of the game, but we’re better with him out there and he’s our most reliable dead-ball kicker.

Whew.  We nearly beat Chelsea on their own patch.  How about that?