My Life, My Chelsea story – Part 4

You can read Part 3 here .

I produced the wildest smile possible, which I’m afraid, turned out worse than Christopher Nolan’s Joker. 4 camera flashes combined with my signature in 3 contract related papers and I’m officially playing for Chelsea Football Club. I then proceeded to stand up and shake Mr. Gourlay’s hands, which initiated more camera flashes.

“Now Daniel, let Ross lead you to your medical”, he said as he began to gather all the important papers to sort them carefully. Ross stepped forward. He was one of the men in the official looking suits. I follow him and closed the door behind me as Gustavo signaled a thumbs up.

I walked down the same well-lit corridor which echoed with what a commoner would call elevator music. There were more framed pictures of Chelsea’s history on the walls, including one huge portrait of owner Roman Abramovich. We turned right and the corridor we entered was more spacious. Ross let me through the 3rd door on the left.

“Good morning”, mumbled the lady in white. The moment I walked into the room, my face was hit with cold waves mixed with the smell of disinfectants.

“Morning” , I mumbled back.

The doctor did not need any introduction. Eva Carneiro was probably one of the most famous doctors in the world of football, more for her physical appearance than her talent in the field of medicine.

“Daniel. 5 feet 9 inches. Minor asthma and no other football conflicting problems. I acquired your urine sample from your doctors in Spain. They were kind enough to assess it for me as well. Now just lie down and we can take your blood. ”

I set myself down on the observation bed and rolled my sleeves up. Though it was quite awkward that a doctor I had practically never met, already had my urine sample, I was quite ready for the strains of a medical.

The medical was quick, mostly because the doctors had done their research on me quite well. Basic blood tests, urine analysis, checking my heart rate and recovering my history of illnesses were followed by basic exercises and scans.

“Looks like we are all done here”, she announced finally while sorting some important papers. “Oh and “, she looked up and smiled, “Welcome to Chelsea Football Club. ” I smiled and shook her hand as I subtly took in the aesthetic aura that radiated around her.

Ross and I walked out. It was now time for a press conference, something which my stomach and it’s various animals did not agree with. I knew where the room was from my previous tours of the complex. We went down the same familiar stairs, at the end of which a pitch worker patted me on my back. We walked through the main lobby and turned right. Familiar clicks of DSLR’s flooded out of the room that housed the reporters.

My PR had briefed me long ago about the English media. There were ravenous wolves who had not eaten for weeks in stretch. I on the other hand was a timid sheep entering their den. Gourlay came from the opposite side and walked in. I followed with my head bowed and hands in my pocket. The flashes became more violent as I struggled to hold a straight face. I sat right next to Gourlay and leaned back into my chair with my arms folded. The PR walked in and took his place next to me.

“Listen up guys, he’s new to the country. Let’s give him a nice impression of the ‘wolves’ alright? ”

Everywhere around the room grunts of agreement followed. I snickered . Apparently I wasn’t the only one who knew about it. Ron Gourlay cleared his throat and began.