The first warm day of the year was also one of the windiest. A gale-force Manchester City whistled through Chelsea’s bones from the first blow of Chris Foy’s whistle. Fired up for their only potential trophy of the year, City came out the blocks with the eagerness of an Anti-Thatcher mob poised to dance on the former premier’s grave. With the Baroness due to be laid to rest later in the week, the other Chelsea pensioners, Lampard, Terry and Cole, were also rested in what history will remember as the Second Biggest Occasion of the Week.
Watching today’s game reminded me how much Andy Townsend sounds like the bald fella from Masterchef. He’s all heavy vowels and misplaced self-confidence. And although very little of human endeavour impresses the former Maidstone-borne Irish international, the directness of Ya Ya Toure’s burst towards the Chelsea goal had the colour commentator purring. Aided by a fortunate deflection, Nasri was able to convert past Cech with all the casual ease of a Justin Bieber entry in the Anne Frank guestbook.
City could have been 2 or 3 goals up by the half were it not for Jamie Milner’s lack of tactility in the final third. With the goal gaping for City strikers in the box, Milner managed to over hit two consecutive crosses. His heavy-handed implementation reminiscent of the Poll Tax. There was also an open goal that the hapless Milner cannoned into King Sergio’s thigh. A poor day for the Yorkshire water carrier.
The half-time segments of orange provided little respite for the men from West London. No sooner were they back on the pitch than Aguerro doubled City’s lead. The lady might not have been for turning, but the Branislav certainly was as Sergio peeled off his man and dispatched the ball into the far corner. Aguerro’s looping header all but sunk Chelsea’s hopes like a homing torpedo on a fleeing vessel. A week of double celebration for him and Zabaleta, one suspects.
The hackneyed pre-game narrative was of City’s supposed Achilles’ heel being reserve goalkeeper Costel Pantilimon (who, before today, had conceded precisely zero goals as the Cup keeper). Even at half-time, ITV persisted with the script that Costel was the weak link that could assist in Chelsea finding a way back in. Yet despite the best effort of the Chelsea attacks, the beanpole Romanian stood strong. The bearded chess piece that is Juan Mata continued to pull the strings and create chances, but Pantilimon was the white wizard and nought would pass.
Despite a long period of dominance, the Conservative leaderships of Thatcher and Major eventually yielded to a fresh-faced Tony Blair in ’97. Benitez, similarly sensing the winds of change, sent on another striker and went for an attack-minded 4-4-2. The masked Fernando Torres (so attired because of a loose Steaua Bucharest boot breaking his nose in the UEFA Cup) entered the fray on the hour mark. Of course, the reality for poor Nando is he’s been conceptually wearing a mask ever since his arrival at Stamford Bridge. However, the effect of his introduction today was immediate. His diverting run on arrival to the pitch allowed for the Premiership’s best volleyer of a ball, Demba Ba, to crash home a smart finish which hinted at a royal blue revival. Torres was a menace until the final whistle and, if Chelsea had been the victors, the credit for the revival would have been his.
Football, like politics, has its tense moments, and the climactic 20 minutes made for uncomfortable viewing for City fans. On form, Chelsea have the best attacking pivot in English football. So, by sitting back, City proffered a very dangerous invitation to Messrs Oscar, Hazard and Mr Tumnus. In an effort to shore up victory, Mancini brought on City’s very own anti-Moneyball, the beautiful-yet-useless Javi Garcia. The man to make way was Carlos Tevez. Granted, Tevez was not having a vintage game, but breaking up the dream strike pairing of him and Aguerro seemed an odd way to see out a game which had potentially another 50 minutes to play (plus penalties, in which Carlitos would certainly have had a part to play). City lost their calm retention of the football. Thankfully, however, one man didn’t yield to the mayhem surrounding him. Pablo Zabaleta proving once again that, deep down, he’s more British than the rest of us with perfectly timed interception after perfectly timed interception. At one point even implementing a slide tackle with his head.
Chelsea eventually relented. With United tramping the dirt down on any challengers to the Premiership title, a cup final against Wigan on May the 11th provides City’s last opportunity for any season-salvaging silverware.
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Juan Mata was a continual thorn in City’s side.
Too Good for the English Game 