BORO are going to get battered by a Chelsea side looking for revenge: that was the underpass consensus. Even the ra-ras were rattled.
But things went Boro's way a bit even before kick-off as Robben was injured in the warm-up. Every little helps. Maybe lightening will strike twice. He says clutching at straws.
The pre-match atmosphere in the Riverside was upbeat and positive and Pagey pumped it up with some heavy beats, even Led Zeppelin was in the mix. Then during Pigbag there was the big card display organised by the Twe12th Man, the fans group with hopes of becoming a latter day Ayresome Angels. 86-06 Reborn was the message, a celebration of the fact that this game was taking place 20 years to the day since Boro came back from the brink of exteinction and played Port Vale at Hartlepool's Victoria Ground.
That show of pride set the tone and there was a crackling atmosphere right from kick-off as Boro set th eaerly pace. Boro fans roared as Southgate's side carved out some good early chances when bottle blond balding Basque Mendieta scuffed a low shot wide, George Boateng had a piledriver charged down in the box, Chris Riggott put a header just over from a corner then Yakubu just failed to make contact with diving header to a Stewy Downing cross. If he had Ugo's Big Dave hairstyle Boro would be ahead. Hey, we could get something here.
D'oh! Don't be such a naive deluded fool. In almost their first attack Chelsea scored as a swift break down the left ends with a low ball into the Boro box and Shevchenko scuffs a wayward shot under pressure from Riggott and it trickles past the slo-mo dive of Schwarzer. The Ukranian is in my fantasy team but this is no time to look for silver linings.
Two minutes later it could have been two as a ball from the right squirts across the face of goal and Shevchenko stretches but is an inch from stabbing home. Boro suddenly look vulnerable. It is Reading all over again, minus the cushion of the goals.
The Chelsea fans, inaudible up to this point, suddenly announced their arrival. They want to watch that triumphalist swagger doesn't send them toppling off the bandwagon.
There is a heart-stopping moment on 21 minutes as Andrew Davies wipes out Drogba with a full blooded sliding tackle just inside the box. It is a penalty and possibly a red too. Certainly we would be screaming for it at the other end. Incredibly the ref waves play on! We are getting some breaks tonight but I hope we haven't used up all our luck. The crunching tackle sends the volume soaring and sparks a string of robust tit-for-tat challenges all over the pitch and suddenly there is a real edge.
The Chelsea fans come over all seventies with an outburst of zigger-zagger and some fat middle-aged blokes - possibly the 'Teesside Blues' - are reliving their bootboy youth, gesturing at the Boro fans and offering them out. Worse still, they are standing up so the stewards go streaming in followed by the bobbies and soon a helmet goes flying before order is restored.
Boro are under the cosh for a while - some sloppy passing in midfield does not help - but they are defending well. It is not exactly textbook stuff as the centre-backs are miles apart leaving space for pacey Chelsea to attack and the midfielders are having to come back and make some risky tackles in their own box but it is doing the job.
Schwarzer makes a string of saves but then his big punts upfield are coming straight back and on the rare occasions Boro do get forward the crosses are going into a crowd of blue shirts as Yakubu is incrasingly isolated. Passes are going astray and there is some awful control with the most woeful examples from Mendieta, widely acclaimed as the best footballer at the club .
The pace has dropped off now and Chelsea are toying with Boro. At one point Terry casually dribbles out of defence round Mendieta. They are well on top and you get the impression they could muller us if they wanted but that they have settled for the one. The half ends as men against boys and with Gareth needing an injection of steel and creativity to turn it round.
HT: 0-1
The second half starts with a yellow card for tardy Drogba who stole the ball off Stewy's toes on the touchline but had entered the field of play without permission. He had arrived a minute after the rest of his team, a trait that some may say is the reason that Chelsea have not been able to crack the Champions League.
Chelsea put in a masterclass in pointlessness seven minutes into the half as they get a throw near the corner flag down Boro's end then proceed to string together 16 passes to take it back deep in their own half before Terry launches it 70 yards upfield just as Drogba steps offside.
Boro step up a gear and while the play is scrappy it is around the Chelsea box which constitutes progress of sorts. Rocky sends a shot from 35 yards out fizzing just wide. He is shooting from further and further away with every week and it is only a matter of time before he sends one just over from out in Carpark B.
Super Lee Cattermole appears on the touchline and the press box holds an impromtu sweep on how long till he gets a booking. I go for seven minutes. Had he started we would have sold Golden Booking tickets. He makes an immediate massive difference though, roughing up the pampered Blues and going for 30-70 challenges he has no right to make.
There is another spell of frenetic but fruitless Boro pressure then as an attack breaks down Chelsea race forward and Shevchenko crosses for unmarked Lampard to put a free header against the bar. That's how vulnerable Boro are to the quick counter.
Then there is a free header down the other end as a free-kick finds Yak unmarked in the box but with time and space he sends it arcing high and wide from ten yards out. Unless he though the was off - and Chelsea players certainly did - that was poor.
On 73 minutes Viduka comes on for the ineffectual Mendieta and has a profound impact. Boro switch to 4-4-2 and suddenly Boro have options going forward. Viduka is strong and pulls the Chelsea defence all over the shop leaving space for others. He almost engineers a goal within three minutes as he backheels in the box for Yakubu but he tumbles under the slighetst tug from Carvalho and the ref waves play on.
Suddenly Boro have the bit between their teeth. Balls are flying into the box with Downing looking sharp now he has two targets to aim for and Viduka is causing mayhem. Then on 80 minutes the all out attack pays dividends as Downing wins a dodgy free kick wide on the left then curls the dead ball towards the back post where Pogatetz climbed highest to power home a bullet header from six yards.
There is a surge to the front of the North Stand as fans engulf the team celebrating the goal down by the hoardings and there is a passionate EIO that more than anything echoes the spirit of 1986. It is followed by a heartfelt chorus of You Are My Boro that rings around the ground .
Boro are swarming forward now and look the likeliest to score. There could be a famous victory on the cards but incredibly people are streaming out early, their obsessive compulsive disorder need to beat the traffic by leaving precicely eight minutes early over-riding the pulsating, engaging, exciting nature of the game.
With two minutes left George concedes a free-kick 30 yards out and picks up a booking to boot. My heart is my mouth as Lampard drills in a low free-kick that Schwarzer fumbles then gathers at the second attempt with three blue shirts arriving quickly.
Then in the final minute Downing put in a perfect cross for Yak to bring down and lay off and Mark Viduka rifled a low shot between that went past two defenders and squeezed between the keeper and the foot of the post. YESSSS.
Can we play you every week? One more win over Chelsea and do we get to keep them? Easy! Will Jose be so gracious in defeat this time as his lads sat back casually for over an hour when they could have ripped Boro open only to get mugged in the last ten minutes?
The full time whistle goes and there is a huge roar. Boro got their reward for going on the offensive in a game that could have kick-started the season. That is what it is about. Attack. Play to your strengths ... and that ain't defence. Crisis, what crisis?
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