Why I Am A Chelsea Fan

In case you missed last night's Chelsea-Barcelona match, here's what it looked like from my mind. (Warning: my mind is not representative of a normal sane mind):

I was going to apologise for this being a non-medical-related post, but then I realised this is football. Football fits into ANY blog, yo.

It's tough being a Chelsea fan, especially if you don't live in London. You're always surrounded by Manchester United fans, your team changes managers faster than Kim Kardashian changes husbands, and when you go to the pub with your friends to watch a match, you spend half the time in the toilet whilst your friends shout at you to drag your cowardly ass out and take Torres's excuses like a man.

So you may ask, if I know it's a sad life of torture and chugging antidepressants half the time, why did I even become a Chelsea fan? (Besides the fact that I enjoy pain and suffering, of course. I DID study medicine, you know. --Editor) Well, after last night's amazing match , I would like to say I became a Chelsea fan because I was inspired by the way they play and saw the potential in them to go far, and always had faith that they would shine when it mattered.

I would like to say that. That, of course, is a lie. I became a Chelsea fan much by accident.

When I moved to London, I found a lovely flat in Fulham Broadway to live. On my first day I rang the doorbell and a large Irish lady came out and introduced herself as the landlady. She very kindly showed me in, and after a short chat, she asked me the question.

"So, which football team do you support?"

At that time I didn't really follow football, and was going to tell her that. But something about the way she was looking at me warned me that she wasn't just making polite conversation.

That's when I noticed the blue scarf she was wearing.

And the blue welcome mat I was standing on.

And the ENTIRE FREAKING KITCHEN painted in blue. All covered with one logo.

"Chelsea," I said with the widest Honest Doctor smile I had learnt in communication skills classes.

She relaxed, then put down the rolling pin she'd been hiding behind her back the whole time*.

"Good. You better be a Chelsea fan round here, 'cos if you're not, you're likely to get beaten up!" She joked with a friendly smile. But the look in her eyes burned straight into my soul, and I knew she wasn't joking.

These days when I think about switching teams to Arsenal, or maybe even cheering for Man U at a match with my friends, I close my eyes--

--and I see my landlady staring at me with those eyes.

Chelsea. I'm Chelsea till I die. Yep.

*Okay I was kidding about the rolling pin. I think. 

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**free healthcare may not be free. Or healthcare either, for that matter.