Jose Mourinho takes the dark arts more seriously than any other manager. He haunts and stalks Chelsea in their darkest moments… the transfer window.
Once upon a transfer season, while I hoped against all reason
That Chelsea would add Blues before the deadline hour.
While I read the latest yapping, this one ‘bout Sanchez had me clapping,
I heard a whisper outside my door, this little whisper at my door
Saying, “You’ve made your deals, and nothing more.”
Back I turned to Evening Standard, Opta, Squawka, seeking data,
Soon again I heard that whisper somewhat louder than before.
“Surely, I am too long tweeting, hoping hot takes have some meaning –
Let me see if this is dinner arriving at the door,
I cannot hope we signed Veratti so let me open up my door,
And then go back to check WhoScored.”
Open, then, I flung my door, but saw no takeaway from the store.
Instead there stood a sour Devil, the kind who plays football of a total bore.
Jose walked in, my smile slips, away as he lifts a finger to his lips
Forbidding me to say a single word, not wanting me to say a single word.
And in that voice I’ve often heard, pre- and post-game so often heard
He says, “You’ll sign a forward, never more.”
Startled by the Portuguese gaffer, I hid my fear with a bit of laughter
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy sacking whom unmerciful Roman
Visited twice upon his door till his sounds bites are one long bore.
‘Morata, Kante, all three Hazards’”, I taunt thinking of some more.
Jose replies, “Never – never more.”
“Wretch!” I cried, “thou are not Special, win or lose, angel or devil –
Whether Roman or Ed Woodward sent, or if the winds of banter lead you to my door,
We need wingers! There I said it! We cannot press, or cross or head it!
Get thee back into Old Trafford and to hell’s Mancunian shore!
Leave my transfer deadline night! – Quit the mind games you adore!
Take thy scarf from out my house, and take thy meddling out my door!”
Quoth Mourinho, “Nevermore.”
And so Mourinho, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the touchlines Sir Alex walked for many years before;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a Devil that is dreaming
Of Chelsea trophies, silver gleaming, no more as dust builds on the floor
At a trophy case in Stamford Bridge, where his spirit lingers ever more
……………And trophies shall be lifted – nevermore!
Next: Chelsea Halloween, Part I: Nightmare on Fulham Road
Happy Halloween! Here’s hoping Chelsea steer clear of any ghosts, ghouls, goblins or anything that can derail the Champions League tie in Roma!