Saturday I watched Chelsea beat Man City in Porto 1-0 in the Champions League Final. CHELSEA ARE FUCKING CHAMPIONS OF EUROPE!!!! Sure Timo Werner still couldn’t find the back of the net, but that defense was near perfect for the whole match. When Kai Havertz scored for Chelsea in the 42nd minute, lord knows what everyone else in my building thought of my hooting and hollering. It was soon tempered knowing that 48 minutes remained. And it was tough, I’ll admit. Sure Chelsea looked like they couldn’t be broken, but with only a 1-0 lead anything could happen. And anything almost did in the 6th minute of stoppage time at the end of the match when Riyad Mahrez’s shot sailed just over the crossbar.
My stomach dropped, and when I saw the ball sail harmlessly into the crowd in Porto the tears came rushing. I jumped up and down, the Chelsea scarf held overhead. The final whistle blew. WE KNOW WHAT WE ARE! WE KNOW WHAT WE ARE! CHAMPIONS OF EUROPE! WE KNOW WHAT WE ARE! I’ll admit it was a much more exciting moment for me than when the Dodgers won the World Series in October. I’ve been more invested in Chelsea and football more than I had been in any other sport. Hell, the last live sporting event I went to was Chelsea taking on West Ham United back in November 2019 at Stamford Bridge.
That was a nice way to start my weekend, but that certainly fucked up my Saturday. The rest of the day I spent cleaning and just puttering about, but the excitement kept coursing through me so I couldn’t just focus on one job. I was a mess. But it didn’t matter. My team is the best team in the world.