Chapter 143: Four In A Row

Chelsea would never admit they had fallen behind. Even Chairman Kessler firmly believed that, Strickland or no Strickland, Chelsea were still contenders for the title.

But what did the facts say? The facts were that Villa gave Chelsea another slap, because three days after round five, Villa were back at Stamford Bridge.

This time no Villa supporters travelled with the team, partly because nobody could get into the ground, and partly because the club was afraid of what might happen to them in London.

The club was right to be careful. When Villa left Stamford Bridge, some of the more committed Chelsea fans were in a very ugly mood.

Fortunately the Metropolitan Police had put a large number of officers on the streets around the ground, otherwise Villa might not have got out of London in peace.

Why were the Chelsea fans so angry? The answer was obvious, because Chelsea lost the match.

1-3. The home side behind, the visitors ahead.

The first goal came very quickly, and in almost exactly the same way, scored by the same player. Conlan hit a long shot from outside the area and the ball flew into the net.

Because of the replay, the system had returned the card used in the original game, and Saint did not hesitate to spend it on Conlan once more. From his sofa, the FA’s supervisors beside him, he watched the ball leave Conlan’s boot and nodded as if he had written the script.

The second goal was different. Just before half-time, Jurek volleyed in a pass from Tomlin to extend Villa’s lead. It was Jurek’s first league goal for the club.

Hallam made his changes in the second half, but without Strickland and Rennick his options were limited.

It was true that Hallam was a master of tactics, perhaps the best manager in the country, but however excellent a man is, he cannot change his players out of thin air.

There is an old saying that even the cleverest cook cannot make a meal without ingredients, and Hallam was in just that dilemma.

On paper Chelsea’s squad looked strong, but once a key man was injured or suspended, Hallam’s choices shrank very quickly.

Still, a master is a master. His changes did make a difference in the second half. The appearance of the young midfielder Jack Ellery gave the team a different feel.

Chelsea pulled one back through Gaunt, and it was Ellery who set it up.

That gave Chelsea some hope, but the hope did not last, because a wonderful piece of individual play from Rocher turned that hope into despair.

Even in that goal, Rocher showed off a move that every Premier League fan knew from the old French school, a roulette that left the defender spinning.

Two wins in a row?

No, it was four wins in a row. Villa had not lost since the opening day defeat to United, and from round two to round five they had won every game.

Four wins, twelve points. When Villa looked at the table, they found their beloved team had climbed to third place without noticing.

And only one point separated them from the two clubs above. After five rounds, only two teams in the league remained unbeaten, and they were Manchester City and Arsenal, each with one draw and four wins, thirteen points.

When Villa saw those names, their minds began to wander. If they could beat Chelsea, why could they not beat Manchester City?

But reality was ruthless, and it slapped Villa across the face. Against Manchester City, Villa had almost no answer at all.

0-3 at Villa Park.

Without Saint on the touchline, Cadman, who had been talked up so wildly by the media a few days earlier, was savaged just as fiercely by the same papers once the final whistle had gone.

"Paul, don’t take what the papers say to heart." Seeing that his assistant was about to lose his confidence, Saint had to step in and comfort him.

Yet a small part of Saint, the part that human nature never quite switches off, felt a little thrill in his heart, because the game seemed to prove that Villa could not do without him.

The press would not let Saint off so easily, though. Having torn into Cadman, that faceless crowd turned round and said Manchester City were simply too strong, and that even if Saint had not been suspended, Villa would have had no chance.

According to the Daily Courier, City were the true giants of the Premier League, and a wounded Chelsea was in no way comparable.

But before Saint and Villa could hit back, the other side jumped out to answer. The Metropolitan Mail had decided it had had enough.

Immediately Saint and Villa became spectators, because the Daily Courier and the Metropolitan Mail began slinging mud at each other, and in the end nearly ten newspapers from two cities were dragged in.

"You English really know how to put on a show," Saint said, watching the fight with something like admiration. It was a spectacle everyone enjoyed. Over the following days the sales of both papers rose sharply and attention shot up with them, and in a way Saint had made his own small contribution.

"What do we do?" Cadman could not help asking.

"No idea." Saint spread his hands and looked at him helplessly.

For the City match, Saint had been put in the directors’ box, and the supervisors around him had gone from two to four. When he went to the toilet in the middle of the second half, all four of them followed him.

"What do I do for the next game?" Under the bombardment from the press, Cadman was beginning to feel the pot was too hot for him.

"There are two ways," Saint said, holding up a finger. "The first, you work it out yourself."

"And the second?" Cadman asked at once.

"Let the young players play." Saint gave him the second way.

"You mean you want to use the next three games to bring the youngsters on?" Cadman understood at once.

"Yes. Since we can’t count on chasing results, we might as well let them have the experience." Saint had in truth given up on pushing for victories in the remaining ban games.

"Is that all right?" Cadman hesitated.

"It’s up to you. Whatever happens, I’m the one who answers for it when the ban ends." What Saint really meant was that he wanted to train Cadman.

People climb as water falls. Saint and Cadman were colleagues, but also friends. Although part of Saint wished Cadman would be his assistant for ever, he knew he could not be so selfish. That was wishful thinking.

Of course, there was a small private thought behind it. Saint wanted to find out whether Cadman was suited to being a manager in his own right. If Cadman stood up to the pressure, Saint would have to start looking for a new assistant sooner rather than later. If Cadman failed to, they might remain partners for a very long time.

Cadman looked at him for a long moment, then picked up the team sheet and tucked it under his arm.

"Three games," he said. "I’ll give you something to read about."

"That," Saint said, "is what I’m afraid of."