Why Abramovich's expensive Chelsea flops are the new Damned Blue-nited

By Michael Calvin

Published 23:02 20/03/10

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Damned United can finally rest in peace.

Football’s evil eye has averted its gaze and ­refocused on Damned ­Bluenited.

Like Don Revie’s Leeds, Roman Abramovich’s ­Chelsea will hate being harshly judged by history.

Their achievements will be buried in a landfill of ­cynicism, scorn and ­malicious glee.

They will be defined by their character flaws and their ­conspiracy theories.

They will be ­derided for their self pity and their self-destructive ­tendencies.

They will be ­deluded about what might have been, should have been.

All Abramovich has to show for seven years faith, and the best part of £1billion, is two league titles, two FA Cups, and two League Cups.

Even if Chelsea end this compelling season by winning a third league title, the process of ­managed decline ­effectively begins today at ­Blackburn.

Beware false assumptions that the cheque book will paper over the cracks. Chelsea, and their spiritual cousins at Real Madrid, are ­living proof money can’t buy everything.

Throwing yet more cash at Roman’s folly will merely provoke Manchester City into inflating the market.

More immediately, Sam Allardyce will take brutish delight in ­shovelling salt into raw wounds. The challenge at Ewood Park will be ­remorselessly physical, acutely psychological.

Even Chelsea’s dominance – they are unbeaten and have not conceded a goal in their last seven matches against Blackburn – is ­dangerous.

Defeat will be portrayed as humiliation, another sign of decay. It will invite ­damagingly personal comment.

Would you buy a used car from Didier Drogba? Not while he believes his own sales pitch.

Would you blindly follow John Terry? Not while his life is a cartoon misadventure.

Would you trust Michael Ballack or Nicolas Anelka in the trenches? Not while they ­habitually go missing in ­action.

Damned United’s fatal flaws were exposed by a new manager, Brian Clough. Damned Bluenited were murdered by their ­mentor, Jose Mourinho.

That subtle difference ­apart, Chelsea’s similarity to the Leeds team of the 1970s is striking. Don Revie blamed everything from crooked ­referees to unsympathetic fixture compilers for his team’s inability to win the big one in Europe.

Chelsea’s apologists recite a litany of inadequacy and ­incompetence to support the theory that they are cursed in the Champions League.

Claudio Ranieri tinkered once too often and lost a semi-final to Monaco.

Luis Garcia scored a ghost goal at Anfield and enabled ­Liverpool to win a quarter-final shoot-out.

John Terry slipped and missed a Cup-winning ­penalty in Moscow.

Tom Henning Ovrebo denied them at least three spot-kicks against Barcelona, and unwittingly stripped them of their dignity.

Even when they deserve sympathy, Chelsea ­cannot help themselves.

The petulance of their poster boy, Drogba, is ­poisonous.

That flashmob of frustration around the referee at the final ­whistle in midweek did them few ­favours.

Chelsea are somehow unable or unwilling to ­recognise the depth of the disdain with which they are viewed.

I watched Inter ­Milan’s win in a pub on the way home from ­Cheltenham. The place erupted when Samuel Eto’o scored.

Chelsea’s chance of enduring popularity walked out of the door with Guus ­Hiddink.

Leeds were a collection of strong characters united by a siege mentality

Jack Charlton epitomised their emotional intensity. Even today, he fights his first instinct to punch anyone who impinges Billy ­Bremner’s legend.

Revie saw things in black and white.

Carlo Ancelotti paints in shades of grey.

The world is dazzled by the primary colours of the ­Special One’s reputation.

Ancelotti has been saddled with someone else’s team, which has missed its date with destiny. The game is up.

A new set of pantomime villains must come to terms with the insult of ­immortality.

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