In exactly 24 hours, Chelsea’s battle begins.
This isn’t just any game. This isn’t just any final. This is the reckoning. The culmination of every bruise, every meme, every doubt.
We endured Potter. We suffered Lampard. We withstood Poch.
We survived mockery, disgrace, and decline.
From Dominoes to Scouse pundits that spit at teenagers, we became the punchline.
The club that signed 236 players and spent £7B!
They scoffed. They jeered.
We remembered.
While they laughed, we rebuilt.
While they sneered, we stood.
Our players? Written off.
Our fans? Ridiculed.
Our manager? A “Poundland Pep.”
But a lion caged is still a lion.
And when the cage breaks, a lion doesn’t whisper, it roars.
In 24 hours, we don’t just play.
We rise.
We remind the world. We remind the haters. We remind everyone what it means to be Chels.
Reece James. Cole Palmer. Levi Colwill. Enzo Fernández. Moisés Caicedo. Marc Cucurella. This is their moment. This is their chapter to write in Chelsea’s illustrious history.
Ladies and gentlemen, the world watched us fall. Now they will watch us roar.
And tomorrow, when the dust settles, there will only be one colour left.
Royal blue.
@itsme_urstruly Knew a classmate for a whole semester but didn’t know what his real name was. We studied together, were lab partners, shared notes, and talked about how our weekends were and stuff, but couldn’t remember each other names 🤣