Chelsea huddled once and, as if in an act of resistance, huddled again. They gathered on either side of the centre-circle before kick-off, apparently impervious to the kerfuffle that had followed their weekend antics, and it was the biggest fight they put up on a night that laid bare their distance from Europe’s elite.
The resounding Club World Cup win against Paris Saint-Germain was nothing more than a stateside summer fever dream: here, on the stage that really matters, they were humbled by opponents who belonged on a different pitch from the start.
Three years ago PSG put their faith in Luis Enrique, gave him a supreme array of young talent and watched the fruit bloom. It has taken lavish investment, following no small number of missteps, but this is a side with a shot at genuine greatness.
By contrast it would be a huge stretch to suggest BlueCo’s expensive Chelsea project is going well: in this company Liam Rosenior’s team looked thoroughly insubstantial and questions may soon be asked about the robustness of the head coach, too.
The booing that greeted Rosenior’s substitutions was an eye-opener and he must quickly change the course of a tenure that, from promising beginnings, is beginning to spiral.
That is, of course, a time‑honoured story in these parts. Equally concerning is the modern Chelsea’s inability to generate any real feeling, their endeavours resembling the sterile shuffling-around of laboratory parts. A previous incarnation could have fancied their chances of reversing a three-goal deficit and outdoing the heroic overhauling of Napoli here, almost 14 years ago to the day, that paved the way to Champions League glory. This time it just never felt on, an enthusiastic but skittish start quickly deteriorating into an evening that fell away fast.
“A really difficult one to take,” Rosenior said. “If you give the opposition flow and momentum without having to work too hard, they get more confidence.”
PSG’s belief was certainly sky high when, after João Pedro had conceded a cheap free-kick outside their box, the goalkeeper, Matvei Safonov hit a long ball that Mamadou Sarr miscontrolled horribly. Sarr had been bothered by the proximity of Khvicha Kvaratskhelia, who zoomed away and drove an unfussy finish across Robert Sánchez.
It was rotten luck for Sarr, deployed out of position at right‑back in the absences of Reece James and Malo Gusto. His first Champions League appearance was terminated at half‑time, Josh Acheampong coming on to end his discomfort, and by then PSG had long since streaked further clear. Bradley Barcola’s finish, hit from 20 yards into Sánchez’s top corner with no backlift, was a thing of wonder but PSG had been allowed to counterattack when another muddled Chelsea move ended with Moisés Caicedo thudding the ball against Andrey Santos in midfield.
Achraf Hakimi had laid on the glimmer, in truth not even a half‑chance, for Barcola. What Chelsea would give for competitors of such brio and presence. As a processional second half dragged on the fortunes of Hakimi and Sarr, opponents at the Africa Cup of Nations final in January, would diverge again when Morocco were stunningly awarded victory over Senegal in a match they had lost.
Chelsea had no need to wait two months for their fate. They worked Safonov semi-regularly, notably through Cole Palmer and Jorrel Hato, but clear opportunities were few. “We have to learn to be clinical at this level,” Rosenior said. PSG certainly were when, just after the hour, the substitute Senny Mayulu blasted in first-time after the latest Kvaratskhelia-led break.
Rosenior drew audible ire for his own changes, not least when Palmer, João Pedro and Enzo Fernández were withdrawn just before that goal. He pointed to the constant struggle to manage players’ pitch time, a season‑long byproduct of that quest for Fifa’s new toy in July. “I have to make really difficult decisions that probably, at the time, don’t look great, to be honest,” he said. “But I want to make the right decisions for the football club.”
No amount of minding the numbers could prevent a concerning late injury to Trevoh Chalobah, who departed on a stretcher five minutes from the end with what, according to Rosenior, was “a high ankle sprain”. Chelsea do not need any more absentees. “I think he was really worried, we’ll scan and assess him but we’re hoping and praying it wasn’t as bad as first thought,” he said.
Nor can Chelsea do with the kind of fire lit by Fernández in an interview with Argentinian TV after the game. “I don’t know,” he said when asked about his future. “There are eight games left and the FA Cup. There’s the World Cup and then we’ll see.”
Time will tell whether that statement was consequential. The one PSG produced was enough for one night; meanwhile the soap opera in west London meanders on with little chance of any swift, satisfactory conclusion.
