EPL TALK: Pochettino’s outrage shows that Chelsea are back

A SNEAK peek would’ve done just fine, a teaser trailer even, but no one expected this. Chelsea didn’t just offer a glimpse of a potential blockbuster to come. They dropped a complete, 100-minute long Nolan-esque epic onto our streaming platforms. Their 4-4 draw was played at Stamford Bridge. It belonged on an IMAX screen.

So this is what the Blues are going to look like, eh? This is Chelsea, the 2023 reimaging, fast and furious football directed by Mauricio Pochettino. If the rest of the season gets anywhere close to this, then the main feature promises to be unmissable.

In the opening weeks of the campaign, the Blues were going for Dumb and Dumber, a cast of overpaid comedians falling into one another at every opportunity. Never mind the lack of cohesion. Just focus on the comedy. If nothing else, we were guaranteed laughs.

But a slight, tonal shift has turned the Keystone Cops into stone-cold killers. Nowhere is this metamorphosis more pronounced – or more symbolic – than on the touchline. Back in August, when the goals poured in quicker than the latest expensive signings, Pochettino offered about as much menace as an Ewok, looking all cuddly and benign in the dugout. Who knew he was the Phantom Menace all along? Now he’s Darth Maul with wet hair.

Watching him rage in the rain against the VAR machines, the officials, the blowing of the final whistle, the weather, COE prices, whatever, felt reassuring. He had something to rail against. Finally. A project. A mission. A bit of progress, call it what you like, but there was animated, physical proof that Chelsea’s heartbeat had not left the building.

Pochettino is back. The Blues are back. Raheem Sterling is back. Reece James is back. Cole Palmer is back, which is admittedly a bit of a stretch, as the 21-year-old is far too young to have drifted off to a temporary wilderness. But it doesn’t matter. Any and all hyperbole is welcome after such a hyperbolic occasion.

Are Pochettino’s boys the finished article? Of course not. They still attack and defend with the endearing – and occasional futile – enthusiasm of a puppy discovering his own tail for the first time. They’ll still score four and concede four. That’s part of their comedic charm. But Chelsea are no longer a formulaic sitcom, but a Netflix drama with occasionally funny lines; a subtle, but important shift.

And they’ve rediscovered a great character actor in Pochettino. He apologised for shouting at referee Anthony Taylor and for forgetting to shake Pep Guardiola’s hand in the heat of his meltdown. But there’s nothing to be sorry for and perhaps he knows that. A cynic might even highlight the uncharacteristic outburst for its performative qualities, as if the Chelsea manager was reminding all around him of a literal message. He’s not going anywhere. And nor are Chelsea.

Harnessing the collective quality at Stamford Bridge

The collective quality was never in doubt. But like a collection of Van Goghs in a confined gallery, there was always a question of who goes where. How can they all shine in a single space? What’s the correct balance to showcase such a dazzling array of talent? Well, it all came together against Manchester City on a starry night in London. Or a drizzly evening at the Bridge, depending on your point of view.

Chelsea can take on anyone of an elite stature with the attacking resources to play with such reckless abandon. Being allowed to go toe-to-toe was a gift for Palmer, Sterling and Conor Gallager, with Moises Caicedo edging forward, too. Give the Blues a bit of space and they’ll score four against the Treble winners. They’ll also draw against Liverpool and Arsenal and beat Tottenham.

To suggest Palmer and Sterling had something to prove against their former club is a rather simplistic interpretation. Palmer had the nerve and Sterling the experience to exploit wing-backs eager to do the same in the other direction. James was no different. He ghosted past Jeremy Doku so many times that it was a wonder the Ghostbusters theme wasn’t played when Guardiola finally took off his flavour of the month.

But Palmer’s nerves were something else altogether. The product of Manchester City’s academy looked more like a character in an Ian Fleming novel. He’s more secret service than a secret weapon, an unflappable Englishman neither shaken nor stirred when he’s handed the ball to put away a last-minute penalty. His cool equaliser was a fitting metaphor for Chelsea’s subtle evolution of late. It feels more James Bond than Mr Bean now.

Up front, at least. At centre-back, the Blues remain a quirky mix of rising Frenchmen and ancient Brazilian legends, always good to watch, always good for a goal-fest at both ends.

But Chelsea ended Manchester City’s five-game winning sequence. They handled the individual battles and edged quite a few on points (James, Palmer and Sterling were comfortably ahead on anyone’s scorecards). They were never embarrassed by the finest collection of footballers that British football has ever seen. Their attacking pedigree was on show. Stamford Bridge saw it and bought into it, on and off the pitch.

And still, the raging Pochettino wanted more in the game’s final moments. A decision in his favour, a run of the ball, an edge, an advantage, anything that might make the smallest of differences in the tightest of contests, because that’s where he’s operating again, in the fine margins. Where he needs to be at a club of Chelsea’s size and spending power.

Pochettino was angry not at the gulf between the two sides, but the close proximity. The gap has narrowed. He’s within touching distance of beating the big boys. And he knows it.

Neil Humphreys is an award-winning football writer and a best-selling author, who has covered the English Premier League since 2000 and has written 28 books.

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