Frankly, I’m still recuperating. The past 11 days have made it difficult for me to function. Oh I may be being over-dramatic, but I don’t care. When I first found out about Jose Mourinho’s “eviction,” it was maybe 9 p.m. on Wednesday night here in Pennsylvania. After a long day where I found out that I was losing my job due to a corporate closing, with a 2-hour biology class, followed by a 2-hour biology lab, the news of Jose’s departure was not taken lightly by me. Needless to say, there were tears shed and much questioning of the reasoning behind the decision, as I’m sure I shared with many Chelsea fans and most definitely the players at the club as well. My feelings are hurt. And I’m offended. But I shall try to move on. There were moments last Saturday when I thought I might be unable to listen to the Manchester United game Sunday morning. I didn’t think I’d be able to watch MY team, be coached by anyone besides “The Special One,” which in the end, seemed like a more fitting nickname than most. He was special; there’s no denying that. Both on and off the field, Jose was a force to be reckoned with. He was the most successful coach at Chelsea, winning every domestic trophy out there, and he was the kind of guy to point it out… a lot, which got him a lot of slack from the press, but he was more than happy to sling it right back at them. But that’s why we loved him. He made Chelsea fans look timid, some more than others. It seemed at times, that he was the biggest fan of the club. Even at the end, there was nothing but love for the club and fans, not necessarily with EVERYONE at the club, but in a general sense. I will miss him immensely. Every time I hear the fans at Stamford Bridge sing the chant dedicated to our beloved former manager it brings tears to my eyes, literally. And I swear that if McClaren doesn’t work out for England, the FA shouldn’t hesitate to ask the man who brought English football to such a level of prestige and cachet.
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