Chelsea 3 Middlesbrough 0
Monday 8th May 2017 20:00
If you can't fathom the meaning of this title. Consider yourself lucky. The rest of us are scarred for life. I blame the Norwegians.
In the News: Jesus, it's been a slow news week. Mbappe to Arsenal. It's hardly a revelation that a promising young French boy has caught Wenger's attention. The Daily Fail have been recirculating selfies of Alexei Sanchez where he's superimposed a stupid dog face on himself. Apparently Hulk punched a coach in the face in China and the press have elevated this to claim it's because he despises all Chinese people. Speaking of that hotbed of mercenary talent; Costa blah blah. China blah blah. He's not worth £65,000,000,000 a week. Nobody is. If they're stupid enough to pay it and he's stupid enough to give up a meaningful career in football for it, they're welcome to each other with no hard feelings. Provided that he works his a*se off for Chelsea while he is on our payroll and we win at least the league, if not the double. If he sloths around stealing a ridiculously good living like Pogba and we fail in the slightest because of it, things are going to get ugly. By that I mean I will get ranty.
The Others: Suddenly a Friday night out in West Bromwich started to look appealing. West Ham proved that every stinking, three-legged mutt squatting in an athletics stadium has its day. I didn't think Harry F*cking Kane's jaw could get any slacker but then came the final whistle on Friday night and his mouth just dropped, unleashing a tsunami of drool that engulfed eight stewards, two ball boys, the Sp*rs team bus and the Olympic Aquatic Centre. St. Totteringham Day, or whatever it is called is a washout this season but I hereby create: Sp*rsy Day - the day they bomb out of the title race every year despite being "the best team in the country." (I’ve heard a rumour that in the last two seasons Hull City have spent more days at the top of the league than R*ttenham) With nobody to punch within an inch of their lives that they thought was a Chelsea fan and no stadium now to vandalise, the Sp*ds resorted to bashing Rachel Riley for being female and daring to talk about football on BT when she said they bottled it. At some point someone is going to have to explain to me who she is, so I can send her a note of congratulations for alienating every Sp*rs fan on the planet with one sentence. Enviable.
Our Game: So starting with tonight, we were in a position where we could win the league before the also-rans kick another ball. Lo and behold, along comes a team fighting for its life. If they come to play football though, to win, then surely we'd beat them? The Norwegian Supporters Club were in town. Which means that philosophical questions such as this went out of the window. I drank half a bottle of Hendricks before kick off and have had to go back and edit out a certain amount of unicorns from this match report.
Kante got a night off, owing to injury, but Luiz was fit to start. We could have been ahead in the opening minute or two, thanks to Alonso cracking one off the cross bar. We dominated the early play, and thanks to him we came close again when he directed the ball across the face of goal. Luiz fluffed a free kick after a quarter of an hour and Fabregas shot wide shortly afterwards, before once again the ball came across the face of goal courtesy of Eden Hazard and just missed finding Diego Costa. We'd had by far the best of the play but it didn't pay off until 22 minutes when a stunning Cesc ball into the box to Diego. Good bit of control and through the keeper’s legs. 1-0. More chances followed, and just after the half hour Alonso struck from a narrow angle. Shocking goalkeeping, bobbled off the Boro man and into his own net. How the f*ck did that go through the his legs? Who knows? More importantly, who cares? 2-0. Not even the most diehard of Boro fans imagined that they would come back from this. And now you better believe us. Moses could have made it three, if not Alonso again before half time. It may be my gin goggles, but I don't remember Boro creating anything other than a few hopeful long balls into the box in the first half. In fact, they were as barren as Mary Berry's crusty old womb. Cue loud chorus of "T*ttenham H*tspur, We're Laughing At You". And rightly deserved it is too after all that nonsense about chasing us down
As soon as the second half kicked off we picked up where we left off. Pesto (yawn, auto spell) hit a long range effort off the bar in the opening seconds. Poor Boro. I don't think it looked like they didn't turn up, more that they never had any conviction that they could get anything out of this game. Which is a shame for the away fans who travelled a long way, packed out their allocation and stayed till the end. It didn’t get any better for them. Dave hit one over the bar, Alonso, who was immense tonight, fizzed one wide, Cahill almost caught the keeper out too. I got so excited at that one that I accidentally logged into an app on my phone instead of note taking and started off the coffee machine grinding beans at home. On 65 minutes another ball into the box from Fabregas, great control by Matic and a third goal through the keeper’s legs. The latter was found curled into a ball in the away dressing room, sucking his thumb and sobbing after his display tonight.
Hazard trotted off for Willian, Pesto for Chalobah. 3-0. Scoreline of death. The leaders drop down a gear and the team trailing lose the will to live. It kills all bets off with Game of Thrones like efficiency. In fairness, Boro played with a bit more freedom once they were three behind, but they still didn't look like a threat. Refwatch: We had Craig Pawson, who did not cover himself in glory at Wembley in the other cup semi final. Not that I cared as we've got a far better chance of beating L'Arse come the end of the month. He was gloriously anonymous. Mind you, for a game this uncompetitive an official would have to be a bellend of enormous, Steve Bruce-like proportions to f*ck it up. I was so mellow by this point I alarmed myself. I didn’t know if it had anything to do with how little of a game Boro made of it or whether it was purely the result of my bloodstream being 80% gin. Either way, London is Blue pod people, Norwegian Supporters Club chaps, including Kermit (muppet alias) who actually bothered to shave this time and thus did not curse us like on his last visit, you are clearly good luck charms and are now required at every game. With the result in the bag and time to spare there were even enough minutes left for another round of Terryfest 2017. It was nice touch to see Cahill give up the armband. I'm already getting emotional and we've still got three more games before it's goodbye.
So: "T*ttenham Hotspur it's happened again." Indeed it has. But f*ck them. This is about us smashing this league title home after having led the damn thing for more than half the season. They were merely an irritating parasite that with luck, has finally buggered off and left us to it. One Boro fan took the time to shake our hands and say that the trophy, if we finally sew it up, will be 100% deserved. A nice touch considering that a loss tonight meant to them. It was a particularly poor outing for the Middlesbrough keeper, but none of them deserve a pasting, they were just outclassed. I can't bring myself to gloat over their demise. God speed in the Championship little red northern men. As for us, I don't think I ever anticipated such a drama free outing as that. Boro mustered just a single shot on goal and had little to offer by way of a contest. I don't think we ever had to get out of third gear. And Smutbuddy Glover was bricking it. What a dick. One more win will, praise baby Jesus, seal the title. Four days till West Brom.
Picture of Fabregas riding Matic like a pony comes from Chelsea's official Instagram account.