The Team I Grew up Hating Just Won Club Football’s Biggest Prize – and I’m Loving It
Last night I watched Chelsea Football Club win the UEFA Champions League. If you’re a football aficionado like me, you’ve probably dreamt of kissing that big, shiny, glorious silver trophy on a warm European summer night. You’ve probably sung the competition’s anthem just about everywhere; whether it be your maths class or the local football pitch or your shower. And you’ve probably also worshipped the competition’s players as gods, superheroes, celebrities, and everything in between.
But here’s the thing — growing up in my household, Chelsea has always been the pantomime villain. The age-old rival to my team. Chelsea always had all the money in the world to buy the best players. They had goliaths who always performed when it mattered; who won at least one trophy every single year. Meanwhile I could barely count on one hand the number of trophies I’d seen my beloved Liverpool Football Club win.
So to all my sports aficionados reading this – surely you can imagine my disgust at the thought of Chelsea and ‘Kings of Europe’ in the same sentence, right?
Last night, though, something beautiful happened. Seeing the majestic Champions League trophy immersed in that sea of royal blue, I didn’t feel bitter. In fact, I felt irrevocably refreshed. There was no jealousy — this time, there was joy. I felt inspired and, dare I say it, even awestruck.
Because wow, that Chelsea team from last night is just so likeable. The players within that squad share such an organic bond; typified by the perfect blend of diversity, humility, and the mischievousness and ambition of youth. Yesterday’s post-game celebrations showed just that — a multiethnic group of young men partying like brothers after winning the biggest game of their blossoming careers. They looked absolutely wasted; downing beer after beer, hips swaying to the sounds of afrobeat, making strange animal sounds, and turning the dressing room into a nightclub. It looked absolutely wild, and truth be told, I couldn’t help but want to be part of it.
But these players represent so much more than just the championship-winning football they play.
Christian Pulisic is already the poster boy for football in his home country, the USA. His experience and success at only 22 years old have blazed a trail for today’s generation of young American ballers to make their mark at some of the biggest clubs across Germany, Spain and Italy. And Pulisic donning a ‘Team USA’ hoodie during the post-match celebrations sent out yet another powerful plea to the millions back home to go outside, kick a ball, and help put the country back on the world football stage. That’s some Captain America-level stuff.
Then there’s N’Golo Kanté. Believe me, Kanté is a better human being than he is a footballer. And he’s one of the top 3 footballers in the world right now. Sure, he’s only won pretty much every club and international trophy there is, but it’s his heart of gold, his innocent, pure smile, and his tiny frame that continue to capture the hearts of even the most stubborn rival fans. When Kanté isn’t absolutely bossing it in the midfield, he’s busy turning up to fans’ weddings or visiting their houses for chicken curry and a game of FIFA. Proof that humility can exist amidst success.
Antonio Rüdiger is one of the many players around the world that represent the huge African diaspora across Europe. One of the many that came from the inner cities of the big cities. One of the many that grew up in the face of racism, hate, and suppression. I recently read an article written by Rüdiger himself; he emphasized that the discriminatory abuse he experienced in school and society marked him forever. As an innocent child, he was regularly called a n***** by his classmates and viewed as a thief by grown adults in his neighbourhood. He had to make a simple choice thereafter — to ignore, or to fight. Well look who just won the biggest prize in the game. That immigrant boy, born and bred in the Neukölln borough of Berlin.
Edouard Mendy, the 29-year-old goalkeeper, only arrived at Chelsea at the beginning of this season and, needless to say, has transformed their defence. But here’s the catch: at 22, Mendy wasn’t picking up medals and trophies. He was instead ready to quit football. No club would take him. He was looking for jobs away from the game. He was soon to become a father. He knew that he and his pregnant girlfriend simply wouldn’t survive on unemployment benefits. He was all set to take over a clothes shop in his hometown. But then, by some miracle, an opportunity came at a club in the south of France, and the rest is history. Mendy is a living, breathing example that sport, and indeed life, always gives you a second chance.
And what about Kurt Zouma? Kurt Happy Zouma. The big, imposing centre-half. I mean, the guy’s middle name is literally ‘Happy’. Need I say more?
Shoutout to Mason Mount and Tammy Abraham too, by the way, for defying stereotypes and living the boyhood dream. These guys joined Chelsea at the age when most of us were learning multiplication in school. Chelsea has always been notorious for shunning promising young talent from their world-famous academy system in favour of big-name stars — and Abraham and Mount indeed fell victim to this. But they forced their way back, went up through the ranks, scored lots of goals, played in the biggest league and competition in the world, got selected to represent their nation, and have now only gone and delivered the elusive Champions League trophy back to their boyhood club. This is what young ballers dream of.
I could go on, but I’ll leave it there.
I’ve been devoted to football for about 13 years now, and you could argue that even so much as following a rival team’s Twitter page is taboo. But I guess I have to put my biases aside here. I can’t help but enjoy the success of this current crop of Chelsea players, and I’ll be rooting for them all the way next season above other rivals. One thing’s for sure; it’s going to be a hell of a contest, and I wish them the best. Except for when they play Liverpool, though. That will never change.