Nickname: Stevie B, Stephen
Preferred position: Central midfield
Actual position: Left-back
First season: 1995-96
First tour: Budapest
Why the Kenchels? Some kind of IT thing going on ….
Best Chels moment(s): Shouting at by Greengrazza
Worst Chels moment(s): Being shouted at by Wayne
Pre-match ritual: Inflating his balls
After-match ritual: Lamenting his inability to keep his sheets
clean
Most likely to say: Paulgetbackineffingpositionnowandstopeffingaboutlikeyouwereeffingmatteffingdamon…
Least likely to say: Well referee, even though I strongly believe your decision was wrong, and it clearly gave an advantage to the opposition on this occasion, I do understand that you are trying your best in difficult circumstances and heartily applaud your continuing effort and commitment, no matter what impact your (as it happens incorrect) decision might have on the eventual result.
Ambition: To score with his right foot
Pen portrait
Left-back Stevie B does to fancy dan forwards what great lolloping bull rhinos usually do to Land-Rovers. Indeed, with his generous frame and distinctive gait, Steve has always reminded me of a rhinocerous, albeit a red-faced one.
His natural habitat is not the Serengeti but the wide open spaces of the left defensive slot alongside Wayne (who can be a bit of a wildebeest himself at times). His style of play can only be described as 110 per cent commitment for 110 minutes (he can’t stop moaning for at least 10 minutes after he comes off). He rarely misses a game and openly admits that he looks forward to Sunday mornings from the previous Monday.
Nothing in life prepares you for the magnificent sight of Stevie B in full flow. At his best when the rest of the herd is getting a proper tonking from the opposition, you can hear his distinctive cries echoing across the wilderness…”Oi! We don’t want this badly enough do WE? You’re NOT trying! Oi, midfield! Listen to me!”
At times, Steve’s animal passions get the better of him. “Where’s your f***ing composure?” was a classic line delivered in one game at 110 decibels and with only the merest soupçon of irony.
Strangely enough his natural prey is not the opposition but his own left midfielder, who at some point in the game can expect a torrent of ‘coaching’ from 20 yards behind.
But don’t let all this blood and guts fool you into thinking that this original member of the Fat Back Four is a hoofer. His tackles may be full blooded but they are invariably fair (well, mostly) and perfectly timed.
When it comes to dead ball situations, Steve is a master. His free-kicks and corners are delivered not only with great accuracy but also with great pace and consistency (unlike his anecdotes).
Every now and then he’ll come tearing up the pitch at full tilt screaming “Robin Moooooooah! Robin Moooooooah!”, picking up the pass and shooting from the edge of the box…only to watch the ball ping off the bar and hit some referee on pitch 93.
Off the field, Steve is the ultimate curry gourmet and gentleman ‘Chel. He is generous to a fault, has a great laugh, is nice to babies and other animals and even has a kind word for left-midfielders. After a few beers he talks utter gibberish but he is not alone in that.
On tour, his thuperb dress sense rivals that of Chris Eubank. His taste in casual clothes however is more Barnacle Bill than Savile Row – as became clear in Lisbon on the Millennium Tour (He tells me he hasn’t worn THAT shirt since, by the way).
Steve would head jumbo jets for ‘Chels if he had too. In a tight spot anywhere, a towering inferno with panic all around and disaster looming, you just know he’d get you out of trouble.
“Oi! You lot…where’s your f***ing composure? Oi! Fireman..we don’t want this badly enough!! Stretchers…where are WEEEEEEEEEEE!…Paul, give me 20 yards NOOOOOOW!”
Dennis Greene (Daily Star, ret’d)
