The week leading up to the Chelsea game was a blur of intense preparation, tactical analysis, and a growing sense of nervous anticipation.
The victory over Tottenham had been euphoric, a cathartic release of passion and pride, but as the dust settled, the reality of our next challenge came into sharp focus. Chelsea. The richest academy in England.
A footballing fortress built on a foundation of Russian oil money and a relentless pursuit of technical perfection. We had played them twice in the league before the playoffs, and we had lost both times. 3-1 at their place, 2-1 at ours.
They were our bogey team, the one side that seemed to have our number, their patient, possession-based style a perfect antidote to our high-energy, chaotic approach. But this was a different team. A different Danny. And I was not going to make the same mistake a third time.
