"Between The Rock and a hard place.."

The couple of hundred FC Copenhagen fans who came to Chelsea last night were rewarded with a priceless away goal that ran so much against the flow of the game that it was ridiculous. They immediately started chanting: "Sing when you're winning, you only sing when you're winning" at us, proving beyond all doubt that they are terminally confused, considering that they scored the first goal. "Rab C." Dickson then proved beyond doubt that he also is terminally confused by calling them "Dutch Bastards", and nobody was arguing.

The game started off well, with Chelsea obviously having decided that the match had started when the whistle blew; always a good plan. They went straight into the attack, and never really stopped for the whole 90 minutes, apart from the inevitable hiatus towards the end of the first half. We were playing with three strikers - Franco Zola, Brian Laudrup and Gigi Casiraghi - while Copenhagen settled for the tried and tested "one man up to try to catch us on the break while the rest defend deep" formula. Within minutes Chelsea were testing the Copenhagen keeper, Stensgaard, who had a magnificent match. Without him, we'd have been three up at half time with the game over. I'd dearly like to know how he managed to magnetise the goalposts, though: we must have had three or four certain goals that somehow found their way onto the post. The best of these was from Franco Zola, who received the ball in the area with his back to the goal, and in spite of the attentions of two defenders, turned and curled a magnificent shot onto the post.

A few minutes earlier Copenhagen had one of their two chances during the match to score, when they got a cross in that caught our defence flat footed, but Nielsen's shot went miles wide.

Apart from that the flow of the game was all Chelsea's, and the attacks were coming in thick and fast. Casiraghi had two goalbound efforts magnificently saved, one from a chip, the other a curling shot from just outside the area. You could hear the collective groans all round the ground. The pressure was kept up until the half time whistle with no return. We were disappointed not to have scored, but generally optimistic. The Copenhagen fans had provided excellent entertainment during the half, singing all their songs in English, and twirling their little scarves. Favourite of these songs was "We love you pastries, we do, oh pastries we love you", although I could have mis-heard the lyrics. Predictably, they were right on Brian Laudrup's case, accusing him of "only playing for the money" amongst other taunts, but Brian took it all in his stride, bless him.

The second half started off much as had the first, with Chelsea piling on the pressure, but as the half progressed the Chelsea fans became understandably anxious. There were some derogatory comments flying around, along the lines of "you're shit, Vailli", etc., proving that the art of constructive criticism is still very much alive. After about twenty minutes, Chelsea had their best chance of the match, when Gus Poyet found himself unmarked in the area from a cross, and blasted his shot onto the post from ten yards. The sight of twenty-odd thousand people alternately holding their heads in their hands and staring beseechingly at the heavens with outspread palms must have delighted the Copenhagen fans.

Unfortunately things got a lot worse when Copenhagen scored their goal, so unbelievably against the run of play that it was ridiculous. It happened as a result of a stupid mixup between the otherwise excellent Desailly and Dennis Wise. Desailly appeared to be safely shepherding a ball towards the byeline and a goal kick, when he inexplicably cut back and passed the ball across the area. I can only assume that he was trying to avoid giving away what he thought was a corner. Dennis appeared as surprised as everyone else, and belatedly tried to get to the ball, but it rolled past him, straight to the unmarked and grateful Goldbaek, who had been hanging around on the edge of the box. He carefully slotted the ball past poor old Lan De Goey, and there it was. 0-1. We just sat there, gutted. I actually felt physical pain in my guts, something that hasn't happened since the 1994 Cup Final.

Things got completely out of hand after that in the Shed Upper, with arguments breaking out and the Copenhagen fans taunting us. Worst of all, Dicko was yelling abuse at the top of his voice, culminating in the famous "Dutch Bastards" outburst, which immeasurably cheered up everyone within earshot (virtually the entire crowd). I immediately tried to rally the troops by insisting that "don't worry mate, we'll get a goal any minute now" to anyone who would listen - cheers, Dicko.

Chelsea, to their credit, immediately got down to the task in hand, while Copenhagen bunged on a defender to try and stop them. Even though Flo and Petrescu had come on earlier for Gigi and Bertie Ferrer, it was looking increasingly unlikely that we would score, even to a pathological optimist like me, but the attitude of some of the people round us in the crowd was pathetic - they were failing to hang around in droves. Probably had to catch a train back to Manchester or something.

Small rant coming up: What is the POINT of paying Ģ24 to see your team playing in a European competition, then pissing off half way through just because things get a bit dicey ? I mean, surely that's the time the team need your support most ? Perhaps I'm sadly out of touch here, but isn't European football what we've been dreaming of for years ? It's a sad state of affairs when people can't even hang about until the game is over. Thanks, I feel much better now.

After three minutes of injury time I was gloomily conjuring up images of tomorrow's headlines in the scumbag tabloids as they gleefully stitched us up, when unbelievably, superbly, The Rock curled a shot onto the post (again!), but the ball rebounded into the net ! I swear to you, the next thing I knew I was once again in the Glasgow Death Grip, this time with the added twist of having come from behind - I couldn't breathe for ten to fifteen seconds, and was starting to black out when I was suddenly released. I turned round gratefully, only to be grasped once again, only from the front this time. It comes to something when you're at risk from your own mates when Chelsea score.. How we laughed when we thought of the wankers who had pissed off earlier.

All in all we had a very narrow squeak against Copenhagen, who did what they set out to do very well. The real difference between this game and the Charlton match last Saturday was that we deserved to win this one. Chelsea were magnificent, attacking from the first minute, and keeping going when we went one down. Congratulations also to Copenhagen and their fans, who got a brilliant result. The second leg in Copenhagen could be a classic, and I have a feeling that we will come out on top, especially if we keep the spirit going from last night. The only gripe I have is that the club saw fit to completely ignore the fact that it was the second anniversary of Matthew Harding's death, a decision that seemed at best churlish, and when you think of the mindless prattle the so-called "DJ" and that arse of an "MC" were coming out with before the match and at half time, I'd call it an insult. Shame on you.