Mark Kelly Posted July 27 Share Posted July 27 6 minutes ago, chara said: OK..tried to keep away from the keeper "debates"...my stance is not so much we don't need an upgrade it's who and who is available...clubs don't willingly part with top level players and fortunately the TC's of the game are not in the majority. On a good day Sanchez is better than Petr, by the same token, on a good day Petr is the better keeper....which one has more good days than the other? I always feel a bit nervous when Sanchez plays and a bit more relaxed when Petr is there. Just my humble opinion and not an argument one way or another. The "new' name in the frame...have no real knowledge of his worth but am a bit cautious given I seem to be reading Kepa pre Chelsea kinds of reviews...and Flip for a keeper. 🙄Really! Wait til you see the new bloke he's got all the worst attributes of the two! 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
bertles86 Posted July 27 Share Posted July 27 So this new Villareal fella is flying out to join the team when Petrovic is left at home. Elite stats from last season, he'll fit right in: 36 starts 6 clean sheets Goals prevented -1 Pens conceded 1 Pens Saved 0/6 Goals conceded 65 1 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mark Kelly Posted July 27 Share Posted July 27 39 minutes ago, bertles86 said: So this new Villareal fella is flying out to join the team when Petrovic is left at home. Elite stats from last season, he'll fit right in: 36 starts 6 clean sheets Goals prevented -1 Pens conceded 1 Pens Saved 0/6 Goals conceded 65 I'd like to know what exactly those two "gurus" saw in him. I posted a video a few days ago and was shocked at how poor he was. There must be hundreds of better keepers in Europe. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
chara Posted July 27 Share Posted July 27 Keep reading Petr is injured...unspecified as far as I can see. Take out the two kids....not really impressed but in fairness not the best showcases for them...look like good solid Championship and lower players, Kepa to go..leaves three bang average keepers if reports of "Flip" are correct. Aside ..happened to see the highlights of the Liverpool draw when Dave was on the receiving end of a forearm smash and Trev somehow managed to head the ball into the turf to set up a goal for the scousers...Mendy in his (short lived )World Class period. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Morgs Posted July 29 Share Posted July 29 On 27/07/2024 at 22:23, bertles86 said: So this new Villareal fella is flying out to join the team when Petrovic is left at home. Elite stats from last season, he'll fit right in: 36 starts 6 clean sheets Goals prevented -1 Pens conceded 1 Pens Saved 0/6 Goals conceded 65 It makes me wonder if he is over-rated in FIFA 2023 and having played it for an hour on the office Xbox, they are buying him on that basis rather than bothering with things like real-life stats. 2 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mark Kelly Posted July 29 Share Posted July 29 22 minutes ago, Morgs said: It makes me wonder if he is over-rated in FIFA 2023 and having played it for an hour on the office Xbox, they are buying him on that basis rather than bothering with things like real-life stats. They simply cannot have watched him , he's on a list , is available reasonably cheaply and isn't Sanchez , that's what he has. And a comedy beard. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
My Blood Is Blue Posted July 29 Author Share Posted July 29 If we’re pulling out stats to bash Jorgensen with, it only seems right to drop one in that’s a little more positive… he made more saves in La Liga than any other keeper last season. They did concede the 3rd most goals in the league as well though. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mark Kelly Posted July 29 Share Posted July 29 (edited) 12 minutes ago, My Blood Is Blue said: If we’re pulling out stats to bash Jorgensen with, it only seems right to drop one in that’s a little more positive… he made more saves in La Liga than any other keeper last season. That's because he has to save everything twice as he keeps pushing the ball back out into the danger zone ! He has some good qualities though , he's agile and tall and his main attribute is he isn't Sanchez Edited July 29 by Mark Kelly 1 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Morgs Posted July 29 Share Posted July 29 (edited) So. Less than a month to go before a ball is kicked in anger and the traditional heady summer high of unbridled optimism, what-ifs, hopes and dreams and all that good stuff has fallen characteristically flat. Some observations while I wait for my prune juice and double espresso to do what it should. Crikey, Chelsea have a special talent for sucking all the life, joy and excitement out of things, don't they? I'm as given to the summer warm and fuzzies as the rest of us and I have never in my life been less excited for the season to start than I am now. "Bitter ambivalence" sums it up nicely, I think. How do you feel? I am not liking the morning dose of reality, I can assure you.... the gap between dreams and memories and the harsh intrusion of reality. I liken it to those mornings I used to have, fortunately now an exceedingly rare occurrence but hitherto a semi regular thing for me at least. You know the kind. You wake up bleary-eyed with a bowling ball in your stomach and desert in your mouth, as Tori Amos sang. Or should that be a desert in your stomach and a bowling ball in your mouth? You cannot remember much past 10pm last night and you only know you were out til 3am from the myriad bar receipts scattered like rose petals all around the wasteland that is your bed. How much did you spend? Who did you upset? Did you do anything stupid? Have you got your phone, wallet, watch, sunglasses...? As you get up and shamble around the wreckage, the enormity of the catastrophe hits you in a series of body shots and combos to the kisser, sufficient to send you loping off to the bathroom to void whatever is left in your stomach and bowels, so you might then consider taking some kind of medicine to start to heal the pain. There is a piece of red cabbage stuck to your cheek. The fingers on your right hand smell ominous. You cannot find your underwear. Your nether-regions are clammy and slick but for no obviously discernible reason that you can see. You have surprisingly livid and sore bruises on your bottom but no memory of how they got there. There is a message on your phone from just after 4am from a number you do not know, saying that they - whoever they are - will be there in ten minutes, and then a series of increasingly angry messages asking why you aren't answering your phone or coming to the door. You burp and almost pass out. There is a pair of enormous leopard print knickers on your bathroom floor and some suspicious-looking powder on the bathroom shelf - which isn't yours because you do not wear leopard print. You sit on the loo and find out to your horror that you have a shiny purple rubber buttplug sat happily in your holiest of holies, which is interesting because you do not own such an item. Its owner is nowhere to be seen but already you are starting to have that plunging feeling of recognition, like spilt ink creeping across blotting paper, that when you find out the truth, you are not going to like it. You smell your armpits and then remember ordering a bottle of Hennessey last night. The Amex app confirms your fears. You get off the toilet having relieved yourself and wander to the kitchen to find a cat staring balefully at you from your worktop. This is more surprising because you didn't know cats ate three day old lamb biryanis, rather than the fact that you do not own a cat. The cat proudly wanders to your sofa, cracks its neck like a master pianist and barfs the stinking yellow curry mess all over the cushions, moves to the other side, repeats the gesture and then goes to sleep on your windowsill. You check your phone again. It is 10:19 and you should have been in work almost two hours ago. There are 13 missed calls, the majority of which are from your boss and the most recent two from the head of HR. On the edge of tears, you sit in the middle of your floor and survey the car crash day ahead. The booze is still very much in evidence as the sunlight streams painfully into the apartment and you're already experiencing one of the top five worst hangovers of all time, that will climb further up the rankings once the alcohol tides recede. You spent almost a grand last night. The cat belongs to the chunky, middle aged Romanian woman-who-never-blinks next door with the 90 degree bum and you have a feeling the leopard print lingerie and perhaps the buttplug are hers as well. Her husband works nights. Doesnt he? Then you notice the letter she has left you. She uses the word "love" six times in two halting paragraphs and refers to some shopping expedition in which you are going to take her to Chanel in Bluewaters at the weekend while her husband-who-never-blinks is out at work. This is a problem because you are supposed to be celebrating your fiancee's birthday in a cottage in Shropshire this weekend. As your stomach turns, your colon growls and you briefly consider phoning work to say you were run over by a bus last night (as that it what it feels like, so it isn't really a lie) the analyst in you mentally starts tallying up all the things that are wrong, have gone wrong, are going wrong, and will go wrong shortly if you don't get moving. It is a long and depressing list. So long and depressing in fact that you lose all will to get up and fight. It's over. Everything is f**ked. There is no hope. It is hopeless. You have literally just s**t yourself on your lounge floor and there is no hope. Everything is broken and there can be no redemption from this catastrophe. There is no hope. There can be no coming back from this. This is the worst thing that has ever happened to you. As the door goes and you hear your fiancee calling your name because your mates at work called her to ask where you were.... everything is gone. It's all gone. Gone. Gone. Gone...... This is a long and belaboured metaphor to how it feels to wake up and be a Chelsea fan these days. THAT feeling right there, that is how it feels to be a Chelsea fan right now. You sleep, dreaming of Munich, of Di Matteo after 42 seconds, of Porto, of being the best team in the world. You dream of winning it all, traveling over land and sea and Leicester to see the Blues. You fondly remember a rivalry with City and Barcelona. You swim in the warmth of the love and adulation of those goals.... Essien, Hazard, Di Matteo, Crespo, Lampard.... Drogba, Anelka. Florent Maloudaloudaloudalouda Florent Malouda.... you remember everyone hating us because they despised our success. The jealousy and bitterness that seemed to seep from every pore of the media and from opposing fans. We made history, we didn't live in it. The first and only London club to win the European Cup. And then we did it again and we were unlucky not to do it twice more as well. The glory! The glamour! The success! The dreams coming true before your eyes... Then your alarm goes off. You wake up and instantly it hits you. One. Two. Bam. The hits keep coming like Radio 2 on a Saturday. The Chelsea you dreamt about from your memories is gone, and the reality is as harsh as the sunlight in the above hangover vignette. We are not kings of the world any more. We are an average mid-table side that everyone hates, with no shirt sponsor, the worst football top ever created as a jersey, forty seven thousand nine hundred and twenty seven goalkeepers of which not a single one is good enough. We have more strikers than the population of the Isle of Wight, and none of them are good enough either. Crack! One of our best players last season doesn't want to go but is being forced out - likely to Spurs FFS - for less than half the cost it would take to replace him. The club has gone through managers like Domino's goes through delivery drivers and it treats them with a similar disdain. Nobody respects us but everyone still hates us. But not in a good way. The new boss is the first Chelsea manager to be younger than you and his main achievement thus far seems to be that he was bringing Pep Guardiola camomile teas and giving him foot rubs on request. He will likely not last until Easter and he knows it as well as you do. Even if he was a great manager, he has no chance because the team is a bunch of feckless teenagers who define the term "streaky" and embody the word "febrile". Bam! Our owners know about as much about football as you do about quantum mechanics and have thrown a billion quid at a team to regress it to near-relegation levels. We are one Cole Palmer cruciate away from a relegation scrap. Thud! Kepa Arrizabalaga is somehow still a Chelsea player and is, objectively speaking, still the best keeper at the club. Spending 75m on a keeper is a Chelsea thing to do but spending twice that to replace him over the space of years, and somehow manage not to get anyone even half as good in is a VERY Chelsea thing to do. Ouch! Pinning all your defensive hopes on Wes Fofana who has no knees whilst selling Trevor Chalobah is also a very Chelsea thing to do. Saying sod it to the pesky FFP and spending the Chalobah fee on a 19 year old Argentine who will go straight out on loan and who serves only to block the development pathways of Webster and Gilchrist is also a VERY Chelsea thing to do. You look at the team from last season, pick out the only players who showed any kind of leadership whatsoever and put them up for sale, then complain that the squad is young and lacks maturity. Bang! Spending 60m+ on a Ukrainian world class sprinter who doesnt seem to know what a football even looks like, and then being surprised when all he does is run around is a very Chelsea thing to do. Turning Raheem Sterling from one of English football's most feared and respected attacking players into.... that.... is a very Chelsea thing to do. Losing 4-1 to a Scottish pub side in pre-season and having to calm the fans down as they paid to watch it and can see with their own eyes that the team is an unbalanced mess, devoid of ideas absolutely there for the taking for everyone who comes to the Bridge this season by the looks of it. Thump! Where we used to look forward to playing City, we are all - all of us - absolutely dreading the opening day fixture now and most of us are justifying this by telling ourselves "ah well at least we get it out of the way early doors", as if that isnt the sort of thing that the Chelsea you used to love was allergic to. Ticket prices are going up because the club wants more of your money as a valued consumer and loyal customer of their brand, to pay for this absolute sh**show of a circus. Subsidised club coaches are a thing of the past now because Boehly and his merry band of accountants cannot see why they should. Whop! You have seen the last few seasons of Premier League football which has been 90% teams sitting back with ten men behind the ball, kicking Chelsea off the park and showing no ambition whatsoever, and 10% us getting hammered by Arsenal and City. With this in mind there is no reason whatsoever at all to be excited about the coming season as it is just Groundhog Day. VAR and referees. Nuff said. For when you aren't even allowed that tiny little bit of residual fun and enjoyment of football they need to remove that too. The Bridge is - objectively speaking - one of your least favourite football grounds to visit and if you were honest with yourself it is your mates and the people you sit near who make you go. If they weren't there you would have longed it off a long time ago and you know it. Crump! Although you'll never admit it in public, you actually know full well the European Super League will happen eventually and you have almost no expectation that Chelsea will be part of it when it does as we will likely be playing Championship football by then. Plymouth Argyle away instead of PSG. You've never felt as disconnected as this and you look enviously at the lucky few of your mates who have had the balls to step away and give back their STs and choose to spend more time with the family, spending less on the toxic addiction of a football club that mostly hates you now and isn't interested unless you are spending money. You know you could never do that but secretly you'd absolutely love to be that kind of person who could. Chelsea will never win anything of significance with Clearlake in charge and a little part of you is looking forward to eventually getting relegated because hopefully that will mean someone else will take the club over, the circus stops, the money stops eroding the fabric of everything it touches and the football tourism and wild consumerism goes away. You'll never admit it but going back to old Chelsea in the 80s, kind of like a bigger and more stylish version of how Millwall are now, doesn't sound all that bad. Sock! I don't know about you guys/girls but I feel hungover just writing that. I feel like I've been beaten up. Where did the joy go? Where did the ambition stop? I think I need to call in sick and go back to bed. Edited July 29 by Morgs 1 2 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ham Posted July 29 Share Posted July 29 11 minutes ago, Morgs said: So. Less than a month to go before a ball is kicked in anger and the traditional heady summer high of unbridled optimism, what-ifs, hopes and dreams and all that good stuff has fallen characteristically flat. Some observations while I wait for my prune juice and double espresso to do what it should. Crikey, Chelsea have a special talent for sucking all the life, joy and excitement out of things, don't they? I'm as given to the summer warm and fuzzies as the rest of us and I have never in my life been less excited for the season to start than I am now. "Bitter ambivalence" sums it up nicely, I think. I liken it to those mornings you used to have, fortunately now an exceedingly rare occurrence but hitherto a semi regular thing for me at least, where you wake up bleary-eyed with a bowling ball in your stomach and desert in your mouth, as Tori Amos sang. Or should that be a desert in your stomach and a bowling ball in your mouth? You cannot remember much past 10pm last night and you only know you were out til 3am is the myriad bar receipts. How much did you spend? Who did you upset? Did you do anything stupid? Have you got your phone, wallet, watch, sunglasses...? As you get up and shamble around the wreckage, the enormity of the catastrophe hits you in a series of body shots and combos to the kisser sufficient to send you loping off to the bathroom to void whatever is left in your stomach and bowels, so you might then consider taking some kind of medicine to heal the pain. There is a piece of red cabbage stuck to your cheek. The fingers on your right hand smell ominous. You cannot find your underwear. Your nether-regions are clammy and slick but for no obviously discernible reason that you can see. You have bruises on your bottom but no memory of how they got there. There is a message on your phone from just after 4am from a number you do not know, saying that they - whoever they are - will be there in ten minutes, and then a series of increasingly angry messages asking why you aren't answering your phone or coming to the door. You burp and almost pass out. There is a pair of leopard print knickers on your bathroom floor and some suspicious-looking powder on the bathroom shelf, which isn't yours because you do not wear leopard print or do any of that silliness any more. You sit on the loo and find out to your horror that you have a shiny purple rubber buttplug sat happily in your holiest of holies, which is interesting because you do not own such an item. Its owner is nowhere to be seen but already you are starting to have that plunging feeling of recognition, like spilt ink creeping across blotting paper, that when you find out the truth, you are not going to like it. You smell your armpits and then remember ordering a bottle of Hennessey last night. The Amex app confirms your fears. You get off the toilet having relieved yourself and wander to the kitchen to find a cat staring balefully at you from your worktop. This is more surprising because you didn't know cats ate three day old lamb biryanis, rather than the fact that you do not own a cat. The cat proudly wanders to your sofa, cracks its neck like a master pianist and barfs the stinking yellow curry mess all over the cushions, moves to the other side, repeats the gesture and then goes to sleep on your windowsill. You check your phone again. It is 10:19 and you should have been in work almost two hours ago. There are 13 missed calls, the majority of which are from your boss and the most recent two from the head of HR. On the edge of tears you sit in the middle of your floor and survey the day ahead. The booze is still very much in evidence as the sunlight streams painfully into the apartment and you're already experiencing one of the top of worst hangovers of all time, that will climb further up the rankings once the alcohol tides recede. You spent almost a grand last night. The cat belongs to the middle aged Romanian woman-who-never-blinks next door with the 90 degree bum and you have a feeling the leopard print lingerie and perhaps the buttplug are hers as well. Her husband works nights. Doesnt he? Then you notice the letter she has left you. She uses the word "love" six times in two halting paragraphs and refers to some shopping expedition in which you are going to take her to Chanel in Bluewaters at the weekend while her husband-who-never-blinks is out at work. This is a problem because you are supposed to be celebrating your fiancee's birthday in a cottage in Shropshire this weekend. As your stomach turns, your colon growls and you briefly consider phoning work to say you were run over by a bus last night (as that it what it feels like, so it isn't a lie) the analyst in you mentally starts tallying up all the things that are wrong, have gone wrong, are going wrong, and will go wrong shortly if you don't get moving. It is a long and depressing list. So long and depressing in fact that you lose all will to get up and fight. It's over. Everything is f**ked. There is no hope. It is hopeless. You have literally just s**t yourself on your lounge floor and there is no hope. Everything is broken and there can be no redemption from this catastrophe. This is the worst thing that has ever happened to you. As the door goes and you hear your fiancee calling your name because your mates at work called her to ask where you were.... everything is gone. It's all gone. Gone. Gone. Gone...... This is a long and belaboured metaphor to how it feels to wake up and be a Chelsea fan these days. THAT feeling right there, that is how it feels to be a Chelsea fan right now. You dream of Munich, of Di Matteo after 42 seconds, of Porto, of being the best team in the world. You dream of winning it all, traveling over land and sea and Leicester to see the Blues. You fondly remember a rivalry with City and Barcelona. You swim in the warmth of the love and adulation of those goals.... Essien, Hazard, Di Matteo, Crespo, Lampard.... Drogba, Anelka. Florent Maloudaloudaloudalouda Florent Malouda.... you remember everyone hating us because they despised our success. The jealousy and bitterness that seemed to seep from every pore of the media and from opposing fans. We made history, we didn't live in it. The first and only London club to win the European Cup. And then we did it again and we were unlucky not to do it twice more as well. The glory! The glamour! The success! The dreams coming true before your eyes... Then your alarm goes off. You wake up and instantly it hits you. One. Two. Bam. The hits keep coming. The Chelsea you dreamt about from your memories is gone, and the reality is as harsh as the sunlight in the above hangover vignette. We are not kings of the world any more. We are an average mid-table side that everyone hates, with no shirt sponsor, the worst football top ever created as a jersey, forty seven thousand nine hundred and twenty seven goalkeepers of which not a single one is good enough. We have more strikers than the population of the Isle of Wight, and none of them are good enough either. Crack! One of our best players last season doesn't want to go but is being forced out - likely to Spurs FFS - for less than half the cost it would take to replace him. The club has gone through managers like Domino's goes through delivery drivers and it treats them with a similar disdain. The new boss is the first Chelsea manager to be younger than you and his main achievement thus far seems to be that he was bringing Pep Guardiola camomile teas and giving him foot rubs on request. He will likely not last until Easter and he knows it as well as you do. Even if he was a great manager, he has no chance because the team is a bunch of feckless teenagers who define the term "streaky" and embody the word "febrile". Bam! Our owners know about as much about football as you do about quantum mechanics and have thrown a billion quid at a team to regress it to near-relegation levels. We are one Cole Palmer cruciate away from a relegation scrap. Thud! Kepa Arrizabalaga is somehow still a Chelsea player and is, objectively speaking, the best keeper at the club. Spending 75m on a keeper is a Chelsea thing to do but spending twice that to replace him over the space of years, and somehow manage not to get anyone even half as good in is a VERY Chelsea thing to do. Ouch! Pinning all your defensive hopes on Wes Fofana who has no knees whilst selling Trevor Chalobah is also a very Chelsea thing to do. Saying sod it to the pesky FFP and spending the Chalobah fee on a 19 year old Argentine who will go straight out on loan and who serves only to block the development pathways of Webster and Gilchrist is also a VERY Chelsea thing to do. You look at the team from last season, pick out the only players who showed any kind of leadership whatsoever and put them up for sale, then complain that the squad is young and lacks maturity. Bang! Spending 60m+ on a Ukrainian world class sprinter who doesnt seem to know what a football even looks like, and then being surprised when all he does is run around is a very Chelsea thing to do. Turning Raheem Sterling from one of English football's most feared and respected attacking players into.... that.... is a very Chelsea thing to do. Losing 4-1 to a Scottish pub side in pre-season and having to calm the fans down as they paid to watch it and can see with their own eyes that the team is an unbalanced mess, devoid of ideas absolutely there for the taking for everyone who comes to the Bridge this season by the looks of it. Thump! Where we used to look forward to playing City, we are all - all of us - absolutely dreading the opening day fixture now and most of us are justifying this by telling ourselves "ah well at least we get it out of the way early doors", as if that isnt the sort of thing that the Chelsea you used to love was allergic to. Ticket prices are going up because the club wants more of your money as a valued consumer and loyal customer of their brand, to pay for this absolute sh**show of a circus. Subsidised club coaches are a thing of the past now because Boehly and his merry band of accountants cannot see why they should. Whop! You have seen the last few seasons of Premier League football which has been 90% teams sitting back with ten men behind the ball, kicking Chelsea off the park and showing no ambition whatsoever, and 10% us getting hammered by Arsenal and City. With this in mind there is no reason whatsoever at all to be excited about the coming season as it is just Groundhog Day. VAR and referees. Nuff said. For when you aren't even allowed that tiny little bit of residual fun and enjoyment of football they need to remove that too. The Bridge is - objectively speaking - one of your least favourite football grounds to visit and if you were honest with yourself it is your mates and the people you sit near who make you go. If they weren't there you would have longed it off a long time ago and you know it. Crump! Although you'll never admit it in public, you actually know full well the European Super League will happen eventually and you have almost no expectation that Chelsea will be part of it when it does as we will likely be playing Championship football by then. Plymouth Argyle away instead of PSG. You've never felt as disconnected as this and you look enviously at the lucky few of your mates who have had the balls to step away and give back their STs and choose to spend more time with the family, spending less on the toxic addiction of a football club that mostly hates you now and isn't interested unless you are spending money. You know you could never do that but secretly you'd absolutely love to be that kind of person who could. Chelsea will never win anything of significance with Clearlake in charge and a little part of you is looking forward to eventually getting relegated because hopefully that will mean someone else will take the club over, the circus stops, the money stops eroding the fabric of everything it touches and the football tourism and wild consumerism goes away. You'll never admit it but going back to old Chelsea in the 80s, kind of like a bigger and more stylish version of how Millwall are now, doesn't sound all that bad. Sock! I don't know about you guys/girls but I feel hungover just writing that. I feel like I've been beaten up. Where did the joy go? Where did the ambition stop? I think I need to call in sick and go back to bed. Jesus there's a lot to unpack there 👀 3 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Popular Post Morgs Posted July 29 Popular Post Share Posted July 29 Just now, Ham said: See I told you things would get worse. 5 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mark Kelly Posted July 29 Share Posted July 29 5 minutes ago, Ham said: We're saved! Hallelujah! 1 2 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Bob Singleton Posted July 29 Share Posted July 29 Not sure why some seem to be getting their knickers in a twist with regards to Lukaku. He's still a Chelsea player. After his statutory break following the Euros, where else do you expect him to train? Surely it's far better for all concerned - especially if we're trying to shift him - that he starts his pre-season training under the watchful eyes of Chelsea staff rather than let him do his own thing? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mark Kelly Posted July 29 Share Posted July 29 7 minutes ago, Bob Singleton said: Not sure why some seem to be getting their knickers in a twist with regards to Lukaku. He's still a Chelsea player. After his statutory break following the Euros, where else do you expect him to train? Surely it's far better for all concerned - especially if we're trying to shift him - that he starts his pre-season training under the watchful eyes of Chelsea staff rather than let him do his own thing? Can't speak for others but I absolutely loathe him and don't want his brand of poison anywhere near Cobham , he can pay for his own training and use someone else's facilities as far as i care . 2 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Morgs Posted July 29 Share Posted July 29 1 hour ago, Mark Kelly said: Can't speak for others but I absolutely loathe him and don't want his brand of poison anywhere near Cobham , he can pay for his own training and use someone else's facilities as far as i care . Totally agree. I don't want him anywhere near the club or the players. He made his bed and if Napoli are too cheap to pay what he is notionally worth, then he can rot as far as I am concerned. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ham Posted July 29 Share Posted July 29 1 hour ago, Morgs said: Totally agree. I don't want him anywhere near the club or the players. He made his bed and if Napoli are too cheap to pay what he is notionally worth, then he can rot as far as I am concerned. I'd prefer that he rots where we can see him (Cobham) for the lols. 2 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mark Kelly Posted July 29 Share Posted July 29 12 minutes ago, Ham said: I'd prefer that he rots where we can see him (Cobham) for the lols. Used as a "teaching aide" , "right lads , look at this fat bloke , this is what happens when you don't play by the rules" "Lardy , get the cones out." I'm sure he'll be back in the side before we can say boo . 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ham Posted July 29 Share Posted July 29 3 minutes ago, Mark Kelly said: Used as a "teaching aide" , "right lads , look at this fat bloke , this is what happens when you don't play by the rules" "Lardy , get the cones out." I'm sure he'll be back in the side before we can say boo . "Get the cones out" Lukaku: "Oooh I love a 99". 3 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
ROTG Posted July 29 Share Posted July 29 2 hours ago, Mark Kelly said: Can't speak for others but I absolutely loathe him and don't want his brand of poison anywhere near Cobham , he can pay for his own training and use someone else's facilities as far as i care . I assume you feel the same about Enzo? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
BMox81 Posted July 29 Share Posted July 29 Big Rom smashing up City on the first game of the season! 🤣 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mark Kelly Posted July 29 Share Posted July 29 3 minutes ago, ROTG said: I assume you feel the same about Enzo? No , I absolutely love Enzo , I think he should be Captain , first name on the team sheet for me . Top bloke . 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
east lower Posted July 29 Share Posted July 29 29 minutes ago, Mark Kelly said: Used as a "teaching aide" , "right lads , look at this fat bloke,………. ……..now run around him for the bleep tests. 25 seconds per lap is acceptable for the first set of laps. Team will be like athletes and machines by the time the season starts. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
chara Posted July 29 Share Posted July 29 42 minutes ago, Mark Kelly said: No , I absolutely love Enzo , I think he should be Captain , first name on the team sheet for me . Top bloke . Mark,,the coach cannot appoint himself Captain and is too old to play at EPL level,,get a grip man! 3 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Miguelito07 Posted July 29 Share Posted July 29 1 hour ago, BMox81 said: Big Rom smashing up City on the first game of the season! 🤣 Napoli open to Osimhen deal with Chelsea in push to land Lukaku | Transfer window | The Guardian Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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