A year ago, I was grief-stricken at the termination of Frank Lampard’s contract as Chelsea manager.
It wasn’t just that our best player of all time, a bonafide legend, a man who intuitively understood and empathised with the supporters, had been jettisoned like so many before him. It was that a dream had seemingly been extinguished with his dismissal.
Many supporters felt Lampard was the right man at the right time: a manager who, albeit forced to do so, would focus on finally introducing a raft of talented players emerging from Chelsea’s much-vaunted academy.
