Chelsea- top of the Premier League and in total control

Chelsea - top of the Premier League and in total control.

It is hard to believe that almost 35 years ago Chelsea were in a dreadful mess. In fact their whole world seemed to be falling apart around them. They were facing bankruptcy and liquidation, a club heading towards the black hole of obscurity. All was utter turmoil and turbulence and nothing seemed to be going right for the club.

 Debts were mounting by the day and wherever you looked at Stamford Bridge there were cranes and worried faces. In fact everybody seemed to be wandering around in a trance and panic had well and truly set in. Chelsea were a club in chronic crisis and there was a moment when those at the club must have thought the creditors and, quite possibly the bailiffs, were about to kick them out and this once famous West London club would just collapse without so much as a whimper. Possibly not bailiffs but the future seemed impossible to contemplate.

Then a gentleman called Ken Bates with that unmistakable white beard, rescued Chelsea with a £1 and the rest, as they say, is well documented history. Somehow Chelsea had been allowed to decay rather like a neglected curtain that hadn't been washed for years. But then Bates saw the kind of marketable potential in the club that would take them away from the depths of nowhere and what could have been a terrible calamity turned to wine and roses.

The managers came and went in their disturbing multitudes. There was Sir Geoff Hurst, England's 1966 World Cup winning hat-trick hero, Eddie Macreadie, a battle hardened player for the Blues, Ken Shellito, Bobby Campbell and too many more to mention. None though made the kind of lasting impression that could have transformed the club's fortunes overnight.

But then at the beginning of the 21st century, the football club from the heart of the cool and touristy Kings Road in London's West End, re-surfaced from their deep sleep and a remarkable recovery was about to be completed. In what seemed like the greatest resurrection of all time a club who were about to drop through the trapdoor were now back in business.

A Russian millionaire named Roman Abramovich swept into West London and the very infrastructure of the club was about to be changed for ever. Soon Claudio Ranieri, a shrewd and quiet Italian man, unfussily turned the club into one of the most ambitious and successful clubs in the Premier League. The negativity and pessimism of the 1970s and 80s were cleared away and thrown into the nearest dustbin.

Ranieri may have been an unknown quantity but soon promising talents such as Frank Lampard, a bargain from London neighbours West Ham, Didier Drogba, Claude Makelele, Arjen Robben, Eider Gudjohnssen, Michael Ballack and a bumper crop of rich talent would guide the club into safer and more tranquil waters.

After winning back to back Premier League titles, Chelsea were now a forward thinking and progressive club hungry for honours. Shortly the Champions League would be won and a club that seemed to be sinking without trace were now fully buoyant and ready to take a giant and logical step forward into a world that  hardly seemed imaginable over 30 years earlier.

And so we return to last night. Chelsea extended their lead at the top of the Premier League to 10 points and you could almost hear those painful and plaintive cries from their immediate neighbours. How did we allow those flamboyant peacocks to just stroll away from us? Besides a year ago Chelsea were in no man's land, a side torn apart by a manager who seemed to have lost the plot. They were struggling to keep their heads above water and could have drowned. But Chelsea were kept afloat and although Chelsea were without the added distraction of the Champions League, they could still face this season with something like their old swagger.

Afer the golden and sublime years of Jose Mourinho Chelsea now have the suave, snappily dressed  and hugely intelligent  Antonio Conte as their new manager. Last night at the London Stadium Conte, always lively, animated and almost permanently excitable, was his usual restless self. For almost the entire 90 minutes against West Ham, Conte rushed around his technical area as if he couldn't quite make up his mind whether to stand up or sit down.

There are times in a Premier League manager's life when  it all seems to become too much. Conte, dressed all in black, reminded you of the gifted golfing legend that is Gary Player. Conte was up and down like the proverbial yo- yo, holding up his fingers over and over again, gesturing and gesticulating almost constantly and for all the world a man in torment, suffering and then demanding perfection. Which, it has to be pointed out, he was never likely to get.

West Ham it should be said, were honest and spirited battlers last night against a Chelsea side who may think that the Premier League title may be theirs for the taking. For West Ham though the first twenty minutes were as good as they were going to get. It was almost as if they knew that eventually the visitors would just snatch away their brief ascendancy before taking complete ownership of the game.

You were reminded of those poor, hapless opponents that the great Bjorn Borg would gently humiliate and then simply outclass. Chelsea were smooth, well disciplined, well organised and. above all wonderfully measured in their passing. But unlike Manchester City, who had visited West Ham recently, Chelsea were almost lenient and understanding without rubbing salt into a festering wound.

West Ham had enjoyed the lion's share of possession but the combined likes of Chekhou Kouyate, heroic captain Mark Noble, the determined and persistent Robert Snodgrass, the calming Pedro Obiang and the delicious skills of Manuel Lanzini could never quite come to terms with the esteemed company they were keeping. Andy Carroll, up front, for his part always seemed to be striving bravely for the first ball but there was a part of me that longed for those prolific goal scorers Tony Cottee and Frank Macavennie who were simply unplayable 31 years ago.

When Chelsea did find their bearings though West Ham doffed their caps and allowed their visitors to stitch together their fluid and cohesive attacking movements at will. No resistance movement could have stopped them. Chelsea were in full flow and both Cesc Fabregas, Pedro and the ingenious Eden Hazard flowed forward together like a flock of birds in full flight. Chelsea were now light years ahead of their hosts and West Ham were stripped bare of all their worldly possessions. Hazard was by  now exceptional and his dribbling with a ball tied to his feet was a marvellous throwback to the days of Pat Nevin, a Chelsea winger of some renown during the 1980s.

Hazard, not to be confused with the Mickey. of Chelsea's other 1980s vintage, was like one of those stately galleons that used to grace our seas, gliding, turning, twisting, checking back on either feet with the most feathery touches and then just running with the ball like the kid in the playground who just wants to keep the ball for as long as he can. Hazard was quite clearly a wizard although any comparisons with Roy of the Rovers would perhaps be wildly incorrect. Hazard scored Chelsea's opening goal after Mark Noble had wasted possession from a West Ham free kick.

Then the ever dangerous Diego Costa finished off the home side with a neat conversion from a Chelsea corner. Chelsea now have pole position at the top of the Premier League and look likely to go from strength to strength. Leicester's historic charge to the Premier League title now seems like some Hans Christian Andersen fairy tale and Chelsea have now re-claimed their proprietorial  rights to the Premier League that they must have thought were exclusively theirs last season.

Once again, the Premier League presented us with a team in black. On a recent visit to London Hull turned up Arsenal in a strip of black. Now I'm not sure what's happening to the modern day game of football but black is hardly the most inspiring colour in the world and by the end of the game some of us were beginning to question Chelsea's rather sombre looking shirts. But black it is and as the black suited Antonio Conte continued this  recurring theme the very vocal Chelsea fans were clapping their hands and possibly taunting the West Ham faithful.

 It was time to head back to West London and prepare for the final run in to the end of the season. It was time for Chelsea to drive back to their village and harbour, their leisure complex and their multi millions. Somehow those dismal days of the  early 1980s must seem like ancient history now and besides who needed that £1 anyway.