London is Blue Dispatch #042

After 90 minutes in which Chelsea would have had better success sword-fighting a blizzard, a despondent Conor Gallagher stood in the media zone, downcast, embarrassed to make eye-contact with the person holding the microphone about to amplify his angst a thousand-fold. “There was a young fan,” came the question, “holding a placard that read – I do not want your shirt, I want you to fight for it. How does it feel to know the fans think there isn’t enough effort?”

What chance did Chelsea stand anyway? Arsenal’s XI had the look of seasoned soldiers ready for the unrelenting rigours of a title challenge. Their XI had just three players aged 23 or under – Bukayo Saka, Gabriel Martinelli and William Saliba, of which two have 12,500+ minutes of senior league experience. Chelsea’s XI had seven aged 23 or under, with another five on the bench. Here’s the kicker – with Chelsea’s perennial injury crisis, 34 players aged 23 or under have played or featured on the bench for the club this season. Only one of those 34 has crossed 10,000 - Benoit Badiashile. No team in Europe’s top 8 league comes close to being as threadbare in experience and leadership. It’s like turning up to compete at the Tour De France on a bicycle with training wheels.

That question post-game must have been as perplexing to Conor as his own situation at his boyhood club – a 24-year-old touted to clubs seated higher in the league table, effectively branded 4^th choice CM after the purchase of a 270m midfield trio and yet, still wearing the captain’s armband.

Trevoh Chalobah, who has looked better than anything Axel Disasi and Benoit Badiashile, the 83m Monégasque mishap, have managed this season is also a startling example of sunk-cost fallacy hindering essential course correction. He was benched after Chelsea’s first clean-sheet in 14 games against Everton, in favour of the two signed to replace him.

That question to Gallagher should have been posed to those that cower in the shadows, frantically trying to balance books they themselves botched in the first place, presiding over what is now a kingdom of ashes, its million subjects grieving in its ruins.

In the aftermath of last night’s catastrophe, there have been no words of reassurance, no attempts to dispel the jarring radio silence. Never have Chelsea’s elite tried using the medium of the people to communicate, or to seek common ground. Instead, fans are expected to wait for Forbes articles and statements beyond reproach or counter-questioning in business symposiums beyond their reach to hear hollow words bereft of meaning.

Pochettino looked like he heard each of the five nails being thumped into his managerial coffin in Dolby surround sound 7.1. At this point the question isn’t – should he go; it is – who would dare come next? Unai Emery and Julian Nagelsmann have signed new deals. Liverpool, Bayern, Barcelona and most likely even Manchester United will be looking for a new manager. Which candidate in the right frame of mind would dare touch this poisoned chalice? And can the hierarchy, architects-in-chief of this Quixotic dream, be trusted to make another crucial decision when an overwhelming body of evidence exists to suggest they shouldn’t be? Does anyone at Chelsea have the spine to make the most important change of all?

It is hard to fathom if and how things improve in the summer, but there are a few reasons for optimism. A young squad will be a year wiser and more accustomed to the league’s mercilessness. Should the injury Gods choose to be kind, a fully-fit Reece James, Christopher Nkunku, Carney Chukwuemeka, Wesley Fofana (who?), Romeo Lavia (what is that?) would add significant experience and quality to next season’s starting XI. A manager with a less frenetic style of play would aid the lessening of fatigue and injury, and perhaps even mend our woes on the pitch too, should we be lucky enough to lure that unicorn.

For now, six games remain until the end of a season to forget. Still, astoundingly, three points away from a European slot, which would present the ideal step up to test the side’s evolution next season. It is the hope that kills you, but there is little else to turn to.