Chelsea are not a sentimental team by nature. Nor are they a team who appear overly preoccupied by questions of style and process. They can play football from the stars and football from the gutter – often in the same game, occasionally even in the same move. They are not, by any stretch of the imagination, an ugly or unappealing side to watch. But nor, by the same token, do they crave approval in the slightest.
What does this mean in practice? If you are Jess Carter, it means that, when Lauren Hemp starts running at you with 80 minutes played in the FA Cup final, at the head of a five-on-three Manchester City counterattack, you immediately and instinctively chop her down. If you are Sam Kerr, it means that even when you have barely had a touch of the ball all game, you still somehow leave the pitch with two goals and a medal round your neck.
