Chelsea's Twitter fans will ensure Todd Boehly has a short honeymoon period
Roman Abramovich being fully cancelled, Chelsea's fan base is united in support of Todd Boehly & Co. Of course, it won’t last. Twitter will see to that.
With new owners getting their feet under the Stamford Bridge boardroom table and Roman Abramovich’s time as custodian of Chelsea Football Club very much cancelled, the fan base is for once united in support of the Todd Boehly-fronted consortium. Of course, it won’t last. Social media will see to that.
In its infancy, Twitter was a useful platform to share the joy of being at a game with friends and fellow Blues fans. Over time, the traffic through the Twittersphere increased, and the joy quickly became joyless.
Way before Jack Dorsey sent his first tweet in 2006, English football supporters had a reputation for causing trouble on the terraces and in stadia across Europe. Fighting was commonplace in football grounds through the 70s and 80s. Back then, the enemy always wore different colours.
Social media, as it developed, allowed for greater interaction among people in a much more accessible way. The old adage “sticks and stones may break my bones, (but words can never hurt me)” does not apply to those on Twitter. It’s anything but social. And it has caused a civil war amongst Blues supporters and fans that is far from civil.
Let’s cut to the chase - we know who the protagonists are. First up, The Yer Da’s (although many were doubtless female, Yer Ma never caught on). So-called, basically, because they were like your dad: old, and with perhaps less modern views. These match-going supporters - because supporters can only be inside the stadium, as some Twitter users often remind us - bleed blue. They forge a relationship with the team that binds them together like Lyle and Scott. For them, supporting their team can never be a chore: it is simply an unconditional love for the name Chelsea FC. The club as a whole means everything.
On the other side of the coin, the new money that is the nemesis of the old guard, so to speak, are The Cultists. They came to the fore with the arrival of Maurizio Sarri to Chelsea in 2018. They revelled in his modus operandi. With Sarri being lauded by Pep Guardiola, “Didn’t you see Napoli play last season?” became The Cultists’ hymn and call to arms. The icing on the cake for those sitting at keyboards in basements across the world was the arrival of a new buzzword. It came in the form of Jorginho, who was Sarri’s “regista.” The Brazilian-born Italian puppet followed his master into Stamford Bridge. He was the playmaking metronome that supposedly brought Sarri’s system to life.
It’s cards on the table time. I’m sure you’ll have guessed which side of the fence I sit on. Now, I don’t for one minute consider myself a match-going supporter. I go to the odd game. However, it’s certainly something I aspire to and can relate to. With that housekeeping done, let’s talk about Antonio Conte.
The inter-fan animosity arguably started during Antonio Conte’s effervescent reign as Chelsea manager. The charismatic Italian was loved by those in the stadium, a sentiment he reciprocated with high-fives, fist pumps, and the occasional bout of crowd-surfing. To those watching remotely, that connection did not exist and it clearly rankled in their minds.
Conte’s time at Chelsea, though, was all too short. Taking a Chelsea side that had finished 10th in the league in 2016 to the Premier League title just 12 months later was nothing short of miraculous. The summer that followed sealed his fate and the difficult second season proved to be the end. The reasons are many and well-documented. Safe to say, The Yer Da’s were gutted when Conte left the club following the FA Cup win in 2019.
Chelsea once more sought a new manager, and the list of candidates was not particularly appetising for Blues fans. Maurizio Sarri was deemed the most likely man to take the helm. The former Italian banker was with Napoli at the time, and those who had seen them play… or knew someone who had seen them play… or who had played FIFA or Football Manager on a games console… were hooked.
Sarri brought “his football” to Stamford Bridge and that band of followers intent on ruffling the feathers of those match-day supporters climbed on board the Sarri train. An internecine rivalry kicked off between those that attended games and those that didn’t.
Whilst Antonio Conte had arrived at Chelsea like a breath of fresh air, Sarri mooched in on a fug of smoke. It was not so much inspirational as aspirational. The two Italians were like chalk and cheese. Where one had passion, the other had lethargy. For the match-goers, Sarri was difficult to love. For the keyboard warriors, he was a dream ticket.
By now, Twitter gave free rein to anyone wanting to become an expert. If social media was anything but social, these nouveau fashionistas were anything but experts. It was fame, but not as Andy Warhol saw it. Played right, it had the potential to extend way beyond the 15 minutes Warhol had predicted. All one needed was a band of followers intent on grabbing a slice of the “in the know” pie, and the world was yours.
I’ve no desire to dwell on Sarri’s time in charge. It was a painful season of short passes with much pointing and gesticulating from Sarri’s “son,” Jorginho. At this point, it’s worth mentioning that, to his credit, Jorginho became much better once the John Player Special one had left the club and returned to his native Italy. Sarri, unlike Conte, left of his own free will, though. Of course, the Cultists will want it mentioned that Sarri, like Conte, left the club having won silverware. The Napoli fans to whom Sarri dedicated the win still revel in it.
Once again, Chelsea needed a new manager. Roman Abramovich tried to appease the club's followers by appointing a club legend for the role. The blue-touch-paper was lit when Super Frank Lampard was announced as the new boss. The Yer Da’s, of course, loved it. I loved it. The Cultists, however, remained bereft.
All was not lost for those on Team Sarri. Despite speculation, Jorghino cut his ties with his former puppet master and stayed in London. Lampard’s use of the former regista was obviously heavily monitored, but ultimately there was no case to answer for Chelsea’s highest goal scoring manager: he gave Jorginho plenty of game time.
Lampard’s initial installation as Blues boss did allow him some wriggle room. The club was operating under a transfer embargo and, at the end of the day, he was Super Frank. Even to the Cultists that gave some accreditation. (Laughs) No, but seriously, when they needed an angle, they threw him under the bus. They didn’t stop there, either.
It wasn’t enough to just criticise Lampard. In that first season, he overachieved with the squad he had, no question. However, one player stood out. After a season at Derby County with Lampard, Mason Mount slotted straight into the starting XI on his return to Stamford Bridge. The comparison between Sarri and Jorghino and Lampard and Mount was obvious.
With Lampard now consigned to the Chelsea history books and Thomas Tuchel securely at the helm, Mount and Jorginho are the faces of the Yer Da’s and the Cultists, respectively. Whilst the former have made their peace with someone who, in reality, was a faux foe, the latter remain embittered towards their enemy bourne out of jealousy for those that attend games.
If Todd Boehly has a modicum of sense he’ll stay tweet-free. After all, American billionaires and Twitter are not the best of bed-fellows. It’s inevitable that at some point there will be a flare-up of hostility between those who go and those who know, but by staying away from Twitter, Boehly can best emulate Roman Abramovich by keeping a low profile. The Yer Da’s will appreciate it, and his sanity will, too. The Cultists, well, they’re not a tough act to follow. Following is what Cultists do.
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