A waft of Cole Palmer’s left foot; a clip from the right; a convincing victory that simultaneously made all the sense in the world and absolutely none. The biggest task Enzo Maresca faced in his first season at Chelsea had been, he suggested before this crowning moment, to convince his squad the Conference League mattered. As the entire playing staff streamed across the turf to hail Moisés Caicedo’s clincher, they offered up a convincing impression of a group that had firmly grasped the message.
Palmer did not quite dominate this final but he bent it in Chelsea’s direction, drifting this way and that until everything around him clicked. Before his delivery on to the primed head of Enzo Fernández, they had grasped for synthesis without threatening it. After he twisted a milky Jesús Rodríguez inside out and offered up an unorthodox finish for Nicolas Jackson’s collection they resembled giants against helpless waifs. For all the heated celebrations, which began in earnest once Jadon Sancho had scored their best goal, this was a title won in cold, dead-eyed Premier League blood.
