"Are you watching Manchester ? (2)"

Never forget how good it feels to be the only UK team left in a European competition, and don't let anyone tell you that the ECWC is second best. In the first place you have to be in it to win it, and in the second place, how come no other English team have managed to win it in years ? Real Betis and Vicenza are as strong as any team in the UEFA cup, and most in the Champions League. Let them sneer, then ask them how many teams are in Europe, then ? - ONE.

I had the luck to be sitting near the front of the West Stand last night. Those of you who were at the game will know that it rained steadily for the whole evening, but I have to tell you that I wouldn't have swapped my place for anything. The atmosphere was superb, and, most importantly of all, I've discovered that they have covered over the breeze blocks in the Gents bog with tasteful blue and white tiles ! Civilisation comes to Stamford Bridge. When you think back to the days of the old West Stand bogs...

I digress. There we were, soaking wet but full of optimism, Chelsea playing direct, exciting football, Franco Zola taking on three men at a time and beating them, what more could you want ? You may well ask. It certainly wasn't what we got, which was Vicenza banging in a goal that was so against the run of play that it was absurd. I looked round at my friends and saw the grim realisation that we'd blown it reflected in their faces. I cursed them for pessimists and told them to pack it in, but it was still a bad moment. Realistically we had a huge mountain to climb, needing to score three goals to win, it looked impossible.

The impossible, though, happened. Within minutes a powerful strike from Zola was beaten out by Vicenza's keeper, Brivio, who had an excellent match in difficult conditions, and the towering Poyet was the the first to the rebound, volleying the ball into the net. We went absolutely mental, falling over in the puddles, the lot. It constantly amazes me how easily you can go from the depths of misery to the soaring heights of ecstasy (and vice-versa !) when you follow a football team, especially Chelsea. There's nothing quite like it.

The game ebbed and flowed until half time, with Chelsea generally getting the better of Vicenza, who could only mount a few desultory counter attacks. Most of the time our entire team were in the Vicenza half, with only Frank Leboeuf holding back. Frank had one of his better games, and could easily have been man of the match in a game where at least five players deserved the accolade. Having Gus Poyet back in midfield has given Chelsea the bite that has been so lacking of late, he's such a powerful influence. With him, Dennis Wise and Robbie Di Matteo in the team we are a match for anyone in midfield. I hope they can work together as a unit without treading on each other's feet.

There was one heart-stopping moment on the stroke of half time, where Luiso, I think, squeezed the ball past De Goey only to be cleared off the line by the lunging Frank Leboeuf. I had put my head in my hands when the ball got past De Goey, as I was sure it was a goal, the reprieve felt magnificent. Somehow that seemed to be the turning point for me. With fortune like that you know the gods are smiling down on you.

Half time saw us sheltering under the stand, along with most of the other punters. The atmosphere was uniformly cheerful, and the general opinion seemed to be that it was only a matter of time before we scored another. Fortified, we trudged back to our soaking wet seats, but soon shook off the discomfort when Chelsea started their siege of the Vicenza goal once more. It was only a few minutes later when Luca Vialli hared off down the right touchline, and produced one of the best crosses I've seen this season, lowish, hard and swinging slightly away from the keeper. Franco Zola appeared on the run at exactly the right moment to powerfully head the ball into the empty net. Cue the eruption. After being seemingly dead and buried, we were within sight of one of the most amazing resurrections ever seen in European football, and make no mistake, that's what it was. The tension after that was unbearable.

Just as it seemed that Vicenza were organising themselves well enough to hang on, Chelsea brought on Hughes and Charvet for Newton and Morris. Within seconds, Hughes was at it, digging, pushing and generally making a nuisance of himself. You could see the Vicenza defence buckling, it was incredible. A few minutes and half a dozen free kicks given away by Hughes later, De Goey lofted a huge but speculative punt upfield towards Hughes, who rose and flicked the ball on, then turned and chased it himself. He was clear, we held our breaths, the ball bounced, Hughes volleyed it on his left foot, and the ball miraculously flew into the far corner of the net. It was magnificent, it was pandemonium unequalled since Di Matteo's strike at Wembley, I couldn't speak for a good five minutes, all I could manage was a sort of hoarse choking noise.

The final fifteen minutes passed as if in slow motion, every time Vicenza got the ball in our half it was like a knife being slowly pushed into my guts. Eventually Chelsea got wise and put on Myers for Zola, who got a standing ovation that caused him to stop and applaud the crowd. He'd done his job magnificently.

The last minutes were full of violence from Vicenza players exacting their revenge on Sparky and others, superbly counterpointed by the smiling streaker who walked past and onto the pitch right in front of us. The stewards appeared to be either stunned or to be appreciating the show, as they did nothing for 30 seconds or so, until one of them reluctantluy shepherded her off the pitch and back into the stand, to the rather predictable rapturous appluase of all and sundry. I can reveal that the coppers must have let her off, as she was seen, dressed by now, unfortunately, enjoying the congratulations of the crowd as they filed out at the end. It was that sort of night.

After the final whistle nobody wanted to leave, and even the sight of Sparky unconscious from a treacherous Italian elbow didn't dampen our spirits. After drinking our fill from the chalice of success, we trooped up the road to the Legless Ladder for some more mundane, but equally sweet refreshment. To give some idea of the celebrations, it took half an hour to get to the bar, and they ran out of beer before closing time !

You couldn't really ask for anything more out of life than what happened last night - the players were magnificent, it would be unfair to single any one of them out for more praise than the others. If they hadn't all tried their hearts out, we would have lost, it's as simple as that. I was proud to be a Chelsea fan last night, and will be on Sunday when we get duffed up by Sheffield Wednesday ;-)