Our favourite and most talented Chelsea writer – Walter Otton – gives us his view on the departure of David Luiz…
The day Ashley Cole tweeted he was most likely to be leaving Chelsea, I put some wheels in motion and began composing an article about him. It was far from finished and then PSG went and stuck an offer in for David Luiz which was duly accepted. So, I shelved the Ashley article and began one about Sideshow. I wrote 1000 words, listened to the boxing (Froch v Groves Part 2) on the radio and went to bed. The next morning I woke up to the rumours (on Twitter) that Sir Frank was also likely to leave Chelsea. It didn’t come as a shock, the writing (in my opinion) has been on the wall since AVB was appointed in 2011 with the remit to jog on the old school – namely JT, Ash and Frank. I guess my thoughts on Frank and Ashley will follow eventually, but seeing as I was a thousand words into my Luiz piece I thought I’d better complete it. So, here it is…
Some say there is no room for sentiment in football. However, I’m the kind of bloke that finds it impossible to detach sentiment and emotion from the game. Sure, players come and go. I know all too well the adage that gets dragged out intermittently – pointing to the fact that us fans will always be there whereas owners, managers, fitness coaches, tea-ladies and players will all come and go. But we stay. The hole that Juan Mata left in some supporters’ hearts is still gaping today. Pour scorn on that if you will, but it won’t change how some Chelsea feel. So, as far as it goes for me and my emotional attachments – I truly am a sentimental supporter.
When I was a young person, like many young people do, I cherry picked Chelsea games according to the cash in my wallet. I worked a part-time Saturday job in a warehouse and when the summer holidays hit I spent a lot of it working to save up. I loved standing on the Shed, especially when it was rammed, craning for a view of the action as the crowd surged and swayed, groaned in despair or roared and rejoiced.
When I turned 21, my parents bought me a season ticket for my birthday. It cost £421. It was in the West Stand just above the benches. Ruud Gullit was my favourite player. He could play anywhere along the back, anywhere in mid-field or up front. I watched him slot in, as and when, to those positions. Gullit has often stated in interviews that it was at Chelsea that he enjoyed his career the most and felt the happiest. He ended his first season by being named runner-up to Eric Cantona as Footballer of the Year.
As a fan, Ruudi put a smile on my face or gave me an in-take of breath or made me shake my head in awe at a pass or a piece of skill – in some ways his signing encapsulated the ‘new’ Chelsea which developed as the years went by – British players mixing in with the foreign signings. When Gullit led Chelsea out at Wembley in May 1997 this was clear to see. Our squad included: Frank Sinclair and Frank LeBoeuf; Scott Minto and Dan Petrescu; Dennis Wise and Bobby Di Matteo; Mark Hughes and Gianfranco Zola; the subs bench included Andy Myers and Gianluca Vialli.
We’ve all got our favourite players, for whatever reasons, whether they are past or present. David Luiz is, for me, exactly that. Maybe it’s because (I’m a Londoner) of certain similarities he shares with Ruudi. Maybe, when I watched Luiz play, it subconsciously took me back to a time in my youth when Chelsea were evolving and on the up – starting with Glenn Hoddle taking over Chelsea and the team qualifying for Europe in 1994/95 after United completed the double and we were runners-up in the FA Cup. Why would it do that – I mean, why would Ruud Gullit remind me of David Luiz? Maybe it was the hair? Maybe it was the number 4 shirt?
Or maybe it was his style and his pure ability. I mean he could nip in and nick a ball, couldn’t he? Timing and precision. Or pick a pass with either foot. Or playing quick one / two’s and pinging a ball to a team-mate that no-one in the stadium saw was on. He was comfortable at right back. Or left back. And, if it was to be adopted – he had the capability to play in the sweeper system. Oh – and he could play in either CB position. What about the holding midfield role? Job done. Right of midfield? Yep. Left of midfield? That too. Take a free-kick? You bet. Belt one in from thirty yards? That, and some. Up front? Yeah – if desperate times called for desperate measures.
Mark Lawrenson hated David Luiz. In the Confederations Cup in 2013, Luiz went right through Cavani (I think) in the first few minutes of Brazil v Uruguay and rightly got booked. It was both rash but purposeful. Have it. Jonathan Pearce said: “Lawro – what has David Luiz got to learn about defending?” Lawro answered: “Everything.”
The pundits and experts tore a strip off him whenever they could. Sometimes Chelsea fans did too. But make no mistake – Luiz has the medals to prove otherwise. He went off injured in the FA Cup semi-final when Chelsea smashed T*ttenham 5-1. He missed the FA Cup final and the Barca game in the Nou Camp with the injury. But he made Munich. Some say he and Cahill were only 70 or 80% fit. Ah, Munich. Sweet, glorious Munich…
….What about his run-up for his penalty, eh? Luiz is a mad-man. A maverick. He’s bloody mental. Mata had missed his pen. So Luiz HAD to score. And he goes and takes a run-up like that. This is the EUROPEAN CUP FINAL, MAN. Not Sensible bloody Soccer on the Amiga 500. I bet that you, the reader, were shitting yourself when Luiz began that ridiculous run-up, yeah? Bet you’re smiling reading this now though, aren’t you? And after Luiz buried it he then gave it to the Bayern fans behind the goal. Oh yes.
Oh David Luiz – you are the love of my life.
Sideshow Bob signed for Chelsea on 30/01/2011. He made his debut on February 06th, replacing Bosingwa (in the rain, Bosingwa in the rain) in a 1-0 home loss to the Bin Dippers. On a Monday night in February – Valentine’s Day in fact – Luiz made his first start for Chelsea in a 0-0 draw with Fulham.
The subsequent edition of CFCUK, in March 2011, had one of the best front covers of all time: Eleven David Luiz’s. When he arrived at Chelsea it was like a bomb had gone off. Sure, it petered out. I get that. Anyhow, here is an adapted version of the article I had printed in that edition from sentimental old me. I’m gonna miss you, Geez.
Thank you for reading.
Fulham 0-0 Chelsea
Monday 14th February 2011
I step out the carriage at Worcester Park and jog down the steps, prepared to pop into the florist on the left hand side. I pause for a bit, doing a double-take because a younger bloke and a girl are working – and I was expecting the old boy with snow white hair to be serving the customers like me that have bounced off the train. I can picture him now. I walked past him day after day and year after year on my way to and from work…. maybe he retired, anyway, I choose a bunch of flowers and continue up the High Street to my sister’s place.
I realise I’m observing the familiar shops on the walk up: Super Fish; Iceland; Ross the Fruiterer; KFC; The Halifax; Pizza Express; Rumours and two charity shops. I reach my destination and ring the bell; my sister’s friend answers the door and lets me in because my sister can’t make it to the door. She is heavily pregnant with a C section booked in for seven days’ time. I didn’t tell her I was coming because she would’ve told me not to, so I guess it’s a nice surprise for her. I lay the flowers on the table and stay for a few minutes. I’m sitting next to her on the sofa – suddenly she grabs my hand and rests it on her tummy to one side. I can feel the baby kicking – my nephew – seven days until he enters the world and Chelsea will have a new supporter – and I stay there for about a minute and I start to well up – I know it’s time to go before I start to choke up so I squeeze her hand and make a move. I walk up Cheam Common Road past the church and a few others shops – a curry house and a glazers – then offices and bus stops before I hit North Cheam and stroll into Wetherspoons and there he is – Millsy the Surrey Scouser propping up the bar with a Stella in his hand and a daft grin on his face. I haven’t seen him for a year – it’s been that long since I was last boozing down this neck of the woods.
I grab a Corona and we move to the seats for a sit down and a proper catch up. I watch the bubbles fizz at the lime and drink long and drink deep – Millsy and I pick up right where we left off – a sign of a good friendship, that.
After a couple more drinks I leave the pub and jump on a 93 bus. It starts in North Cheam and goes all the way to Putney Bridge – and for some reason I jog up the stairs to the top deck and sit right at the front of the bus as if I were a kid on my way to my way to Kingston with my Mum on the 65 bus (which was later renamed the 71 – same route, different number) and I look out the window for most of the journey taking it all in – Morden, Wimbledon Common, Putney Heath and then finally Putney Bridge. This is South West London.
I jump off before the bus goes over the Bridge and I take in the Thames. It’s a cold night but still and refreshing. I wonder down to the Half Moon where Taxi Alan, Smiffy and Den await. We have a drink then move on to the curry house. I pick at my food, realising my appetite has gone. I find myself worrying about my sister and my nephew – the alcohol heightening my concerns regarding the impending C section. I reflect on the few minutes I had at her house. She’s melted into the sofa, her head back, cheeks puffed out, staring at the ceiling. She makes a painful face then takes my hand, placing it on her swelled belly. I feel my nephew kicking for England in her womb. Mental. I laugh at the wonder of it all. Smiffy snaps his fingers which breaks me out of my zone. He’s asking me if I’m going to finish my food. I shake my head, he reaches over and takes my plate – I turn to the waiter and ask for another drink, asking the others if they want another one too. They all do. The waiter prepares more drinks as Smiffy demolishes my curry.
We leave a generous tip and make for Craven Cottage. Strolling through Bishops Park with the Thames to our left I notice a mist settling over the water. The away support is buoyed with the news that David Luiz and Fernando Torres are starting the match. Some people in front of me are chatting about Valentine’s Day – I had completely forgotten about it. My day began getting up early – my kids and wife still asleep – I grabbed a bag from under the bed that I’d been hiding and went downstairs – arranging their presents on the kitchen table: A blue matchbox car for my boy (aged 2), a tin of sweets for my girl (just turned 4) and half a dozen red roses for the Doris. Except, that when I laid the roses out I counted only four roses instead of the six that there should have been. But that was this morning. And this is now. Chelsea away. My other love.
I was buzzing after Luiz’s full debut. He was everywhere. Okay, he gave the penalty away, but his versatility, passion, vision and drive is there for all to see. Even if Cech let him massively off the hook to earn a draw, Chelsea deserved the three points. Our supporters were in great voice.
Bounce in a Minute; We don’t hate You, You’re just Sh*t; Double Double Double; One Man Went to Mow and my favourite Chelsea / Champions resounded around. I love that chant.
I grabbed a lift back to the South Coast from a Fulham supporting mate of mine who lives in my area. I returned home just after midnight. I wearily climbed the stairs and went into my kids’ bedroom to find them, as expected, fast asleep in their bunk-beds. I kissed my sleeping daughter first and then my son. His duvet was half off the bed. I tucked him in and noticed he had his new Blue toy car by his pillow. I kissed his head and smiled because his Mum had dressed him in his favourite Chelsea pyjamas.
I crawl into bed and put my head on the pillow staring at the ceiling. I run through moments of the match in my head. David Luiz. Brazilian flair. He’s going to be great for us.
The End.
Other significant Sideshow moments:
After his first start for Chelsea in a 0-0 draw with Fulham, he was awarded Man of the Match despite giving away a 93rd minute penalty which Petr Cech saved. “Luiz had been a phenomenal performer for the visitors.” Match report:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport1/hi/football/eng_prem/9391010.stm
On 14/03/2012 in the Champions League his stunning performance earned him UEFA Man of the Match in the 4-1 extra time win versus Napoli.
Awarded Man of the Match in the 8-0 thrashing of Villa on 23/12/2012. He scores a quality free-kick.
Grown men buying and loving David Luiz wigs. One bloke wears one on the pitch up at Blackpool away during a half-time fan competition.
His incredible strike to open the scoring at Craven Cottage on 17/04/2013. On a warm evening, Chelsea sang for the entire match including, in the second half, a thirteen minute rendition of “We are the Champions! Champions of Europe!”
The UEFA Cup Semi-Final first leg versus Basel 25/04/2013. His last minute free-kick wins the game. Chelsea fans leave the ground singing: “Amsterdam, Amsterdam, we are coming!”
Laying hands on Fernando Torres. As a fellow follower of Jesus, I loved a bit of that.
Here is a farewell YouTube video by @feroze17:
Another perspective on this website regarding Luiz by Ross Mooring. Includes the quite brilliant apt phrase: “both cultured and kamikaze.”
https://chelseafancast.com/2014/05/season-in-review-david-luiz/
Published by GATE17, Walters ebooks are available here:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=Walter%20Otton
