We were already planning our train tickets to Paris.
Meeting mates with whom I'd been going to Chelsea games with since I was 16 years old, it did not take long for any cloud of doom or fear to grab hold of us. We were toasting to the potential end of Chelsea in a self-deprecating way while simultaneously plotting our path to France when Thomas Tuchel will win a second European Cup in a row.
Obviously, conversations were had about Roman Abramovich, the sanctions, potential future owners and how the afternoon would play out against Newcastle.
