Stoke, 27 September, 2008

Back to Stoke for the first time since they joined the Premiership. The press facilities have changed - although this still didn't stop me from getting lost afterwards, saved only by a guardian angel who took me through the kitchen - and they’ve changed for the better, even if the pies didn't turn up until half-time, unbeknownst to me, as (pin me to that cross centurion) I was beavering away on the laptop (timesonline). I know, it’s a hard, pieless life sometimes.
Like all newly promoted teams, Stoke are a combination of blind faith, big hearts and technical frailty. And for all the noise their support generated, the sort of noise that suggests they might as well enjoy this while it lasts, Stoke were never in serious contention against Chelsea, who tossed them aside with shark-eyed precision.
Tony Pulis is as upbeat as ever. There’s a straightness about him (albeit a straightness that doesn’t extend to allowing players to do pre-match interviews who are playing in the actual match) and so he admits his team were outclassed, but praises Stoke’s commitment, knowing that games against West Bromwich Albion and, hey, Spurs, might be more important vis-a-vis the bigger picture.
I’ve never come across Scolari before. The weird thing is not how his bright blue tracksuit doesn’t match Chelsea’s sober blue kit or that cliche about him resembling Gene Hackman’s cheekier kid brother being even truer in the flesh. No, it’s the fact that I can’t really understand him - does Linguaphone still exist? Can’t Chelsea afford a course for him? - and if I can’t, I’ll bet Wayne Bridge can’t. And when he cryptically speaks of one team (ie Stoke, I think) having a gameplan consisting simply of waiting for another (Chelsea, I think) to make a mistake, I don’t know whether he was joking or not. Either way he was wrong: Stoke weren’t that cunning. He must truly have charisma to spare...