ON BLUES CONTROL
Chelsea cruise it and they can seal title at Hawthorns
IT was so predictable even Carlo Ancelotti did not raise an eyebrow.
It was so comfortable, even beard-scratching Roman Abramovich barely fidgeted.
It was so routine, Andriy Shevchenko looked a touch bored, while former Russia manager Leonid Slutsky told gags to his neighbour.
Up among the upholstered seats and deep carpet, the VIPs were there merely to peer down on the beginning of the coronation march.
Only, of course, it was not the beginning because it has long been a case of merely guessing where and when the blue title ribbons will be unfettered.
Probably at the Hawthorns on Friday night.
This was simply a box-ticking exercise, Middlesbrough down, Chelsea champions-elect.
The scoreline was actually not as emphatic as it could have been, but the contest really was a formality.
If anything, this was a Chelsea team playing within itself, a Chelsea team happy to play to the tune conducted by Cesc Fabregas.
That Fabregas has been at the back of the orchestra pit rather than taking the baton for Chelsea’s title challenge is testament to the strength of Antonio Conte’s firstchoice unit.
Fabregas is, arguably, world-class. His range of passing is certainly world-class, ranging from the short and cute to the long and showy.
In only his eleventh Premier League start this season, he mixed both with a whole lot more in between.
Twice he asked Marcos Alonso to volley, twice the wing-back answered but not with A-grade accuracy.
It was actually one from Cesc’s mid-range catalogue that officially cracked Boro open, a stretching Fabio only able to feather the Fabregas delivery to the feet of Diego Costa, who calmly informed Brad Guzan his legs were akimbo.
And it was an impudent, stabbed curler that told Nemanja Matic to steady himself and drive in Chelsea’s third.
The only surprise about the Alonso goal sandwiched between those two was that the drifted pass to set up a finish via Guzan’s compliant legs was supplied by Cesar Azpilicueta.
Never mind the assist statistics, although clocking up at least 10 in each of six separate Premier League seasons is impressive enough if you like that sort of stuff. Statistics do not record his instinct for the game, his vision, a soaring footballing IQ. If he is really not guaranteed a starting position under Conte, he should consider his future. For now, his immediate future will be to collect a second Premier League winners’ medal. Official signing-off will probably be completed at West Brom, although the final 10 minutes of this event suggested most believe that has already been done as spectator thoughts and songs turned towards the Wembley date, the meeting with Arsenal in the FA Cup Final on May 27. Roman’s coterie of the great, the good and the footballing celebrity will be there to see if Conte can become, after a certain other Italian, the second Chelsea manager to win the Double. If he does, you can bet even Carlo Ancelotti (left, with Shevchenko) will not raise an eyebrow.