In the 83rd minute, the ball rolled to the feet of Cole Palmer in a bubble of space outside Aston Villa’s box, and the crowd snapped to attention. Little conversations stopped. Heads craned forward in unison. Ah, now this is why we came.
Chelsea are a fun watch this season, full of speed and swagger, all nosed by the erratic offerings of Nicolas Jackson, a man who can finish with the accuracy of a sniper and all the delicacy of a caravan in the space of one afternoon. But there is a reason why the walk down Fulham Road carries such a sense of anticipation these days. Palmer virtually guarantees a handful of moments that take your breath away, one or two of which will probably lead to goals, performing touches and feints often so subtle that you’ll try and often fail to describe exactly what he just did.
