Three weeks ago, before the Inter Milan-Chelsea first leg, I had a funny feeling that the winner could go all the way to Madrid on Saturday May 22.
Even though I don’t rate Serie A, I figured that if Inter were good enough to beat Chelsea they were good enough to go all the way.
Jose Mourinho, the nabob of nullification, stopped Chelsea scoring last night. He played three up and that meant that Chelsea had to rein in their full backs. It worked well.
He won 2-1 at San Siro and 1-0 at Stamford Bridge. He won both legs.
Lucio was awesome again, Thiago Motta and Cambiasso showed how brainy Serie A can be in central midfield, where Lampard and Ballack were anonymous.
Chelsea’s 4-3-3 style, with all those diagonals and knockdowns, stuttered for 35 minutes plus – and then they had ten minutes of momentum, looked quite menacing.
It was 0-0 at half-time after an intense battle between heavyweights for a big prize.
If Inter scored, Chelsea would need three. If Chelsea scored to make it 2-2 on aggregate, it didn’t mean they would win.
Malouda hit a rocket at the near post that was saved, yellow card followed yellow card, Milito missed a one-on-one, Motta headed over the best chance of the game in 70.
Watching Samuel Eto’o play like a tart for an hour, I was recalling how red-hot he used to be for Mallorca when he nutmegged Roberto Carlos and whipped the ball under the body of Casillas as the keeper’s big body landed with a thud that I could see but not hear, recalling how electric Eto’o was with Barcelona, interchanging with Ronaldinho, making sharp runs for his mate’s passes.
In his prime, the spiky and prolific African warrior was as direct as an arrow. But now he looked irrelevant, over the hill, burned out, past it.
But then Mourinho switched Eto’o from the right wing to the left after about 75 minutes.
Immediately, in 78, a killer ball from the wonderful Wesley Sneijder split the defence and Eto’o was off like a hare after one sublime touch, leaving right back Ivanovic for dead. He spurted into the box and drilled his shot fiercely and straight inside the near post. It was a demonstration of concentrated athleticism, an explosive moment that turned back the clock and ended the tie. For 15 seconds Samuel Eto’o was an arrow again.
Drogba was sent off ten minutes later.
Frustrated, feeling further away from the big one than ever, he stamped on Motta’s ankle and was sent off.
He’s got to be bigger than that, more sporting than that. You can’t employ a centre forward who gets a red card every time he doesn’t win the Champions League.
In 93 Eto’o had a shot that hit keeper Ross Turnbull on the foot and spun out for a corner. Good shot, good save.
Chelsea cannot complain about Samuel wrestling Drogba to the ground at corners. John Terry does that Ricardo Carvalho, has turned wrestling footballers into an art form, and Alex is a big bandit who comes from a long line of ruthless Brazilian bandits. Hoist with their own petard, methinks.
Having seen the Eto’o goal six times again this morning, I’m 99% sure that Petr Cech would have saved that shot. But Inter would still have gone through.
“We know very, very well how they play, ” said Mourinho.
That was why Inter won so comprehensively.
Unlike many Italian sides, who play in spells, and then cruise, Mourinho’s Inter performed with drive and energy for 95 minutes.
Ancelotti had Chelsea pumping 30 and 40 yard balls to Drogba, who had three colossally strong defenders shutting him down. That was never going to work. Without width, without Essien, without Ashley Cole, without a playmaker to get moves going on the deck, Chelsea could not keep the ball. They were battered and made to look bang average.
Anelka was useless and gutless, as I knew he would be. Drogba admitted, “Inter stopped us playing the way we wanted to.”
Roman Abramovich sacked Mourinho because he was sick of his egomania, his nastiness, all the bad publicity. He wanted his team to play stylish football rather than attritional football.
The oligarch came here to buy a western identity. He craved respectability. When Prince Charles needed a helicopter at short notice, to get to a polo match, Roman obliged. The orphan had joined the establishment.
Roman probably looked down at that and thought, “Typical Jose. You win but it’s a grind and horrible to watch. That’s why I sacked him.”
In truth, Chelsea haven’t been at the races for weeks now. They’ve faded away in a storm of scandal. Now they need to bounce back and win the league.
It’s a season where absences have defined teams and big games.
Liverpool without Xabi Alonso have been dire, and when Xabi was injured, Real Madrid were beaten by Lyon. Chelsea, without Essien, Ashley Cole and Cech, lost both legs.
Losing Cristiano, Sir Alex managed to juggle his old boys, revive some new boys, and still keep winning
Until now I disagreed with the hacks who wanted Mourinho back in the Premier League but I’m softening on that.
The Times headline was Egotistical, cynical and brilliant. Welcome back.
I’m back as well.
A week after landing at Gatwick, I’m finally back, I think. The Special One has helped me to pick up my London rhythm again. At last. It’s taken a whole week and a dramatic football battle to get me back into the groove .Now that I’ve got my speed back, I’m looking forward to finishing my memoir before the World Cup.