I have never been a fan of sports- neither playing nor watching- and have never been brought up in a football environment (I have two sisters and my father is into music rather than football). So when my great friend and serious Chelsea supporter, Ed, invited me to Baker Street for some pre-match drinking and mayhem, I was dubious. I met Ed and his friend Kyle at Euston station at 12. p.m. on a glorious spring day, the temperature actually reached 17 °C. It was the day of the Chelsea vs. Aston Villa match which was being played at Wembley Stadium. Ed and Kyle had come from Milton Keynes and we walked to a pub where Chelsea supporters were drinking. The match didn’t start until 5 pm but Ed informed me that the hours prior to the game were almost as good as watching the football itself and were essential to participate in if you were a real fan.
Entering the dark pub I felt thoroughly outnumbered as a woman; there were probably two or three other women there. The boys ordered a round of Fosters and to get into the spirit of things, I swapped my usual glass of white wine for a pint of Bulmers. There was a real sense of community and team spirit in the pub, and everyone was in a good mood. I was introduced to another football fan that Ed knew who was in his 40’s and had travelled all the way from Blackburn to watch the match. He has been supporting Chelsea since the 1970’s. A day out for him cost around £200 but he said it was worth it. Being the minority, I didn’t feel uncomfortable, even though I thought I would, as it was obvious that I wasn’t a Chelsea fan, or a football fan for that matter. After several pints of cider (and no lunch! According to Ed, you don’t eat lunch before a match you fill up on beer),we headed to Baker Street to another Chelsea pub.
The word of the street was that that particular pub had been shut down by police in order to prevent trouble by the fans. Once we arrived at Baker Street, the atmosphere was incredible. I honestly have never seen anything like it. It felt like being in a Carnival; the whole right side of the street was a sea of blue shirted Chelsea fans who were chanting songs and on the other side were large amounts of police. As the pub had been shut down, Kyle went to get some beer from the local Tesco. (He found out later that Tesco was no longer selling alcohol that day in order to prevent fan violence.) We stood by the stairs to an underpass, and every time a non Chelsea fan walked through it, beer was thrown at them. There was a strong aroma of celery in the air and I noticed that every time a tourist bus or a convertible car drove by, copious amount of celery were thrown at them. This sounds a little bit harsh, but it was all in good humor, and the tourists loved it. 
I saw two arrests, but apart from that the police and the fans seemed to get along fine. All the fans knew every song and even had movements which looked really funny for an outsider. By four o’clock the majority of the crowd had left to watch the game in Wembley and I made my way home. Even without watching the match itself (which Chelsea won 3-0 Go Chelsea!) I got a really good sense of what being a Chelsea fan is all about. As Ed said, going to football is a way to “let off steam and go a bit mad.”
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