I’ve checked. It is not April 1st. Therefore, we can assume that poor old Jose really believes he is having a terribly hard time at the helm of Chelsea FC right now. Not enough quality players, apparently. A terrible injury list. I mean, he probably only has twenty or so full internationals fit to play. His expensively mussed up hair must be a little greyer every day.
But it gets worse. He isn’t to be allowed to buy and so he won’t sell anyone either. I’ll pick up your toys for you Jose, there there.
But it gets worse. This are hard times for Chelsea. His worst in football management, he says. But they’ll pull through. Somehow. I thank god I have a spare shirt as I fear my heart is bleeding. One day, Jose, you really must visit Earth. Nice little planet, just to the left of Mars. Hard times? Give me strength. Or as my fine friend Ariel put it: ‘well, boo hoo.’
But you can see Jose’s point, surely. Chelsea’s disastrous recent form and apocalyptic injusry crisis, plus their apparent lack of finance for new players has made a car crash of their season. A lowly second in the Premiership table, through to the next round of the FA cup, second leg of league cup semi to come at home and only just scraping into the Champions League knock out top of their league. Who would swap to take on that mess? Not Torquay, that’s for sure.
You may believe, Jose M, that your breast-beating brings great sympathy. I think ridicule and contempt are more likely reactions. Just get on with it and stop whining, please.