Pathetic Chelsea roll out red carpet for Forest's B-team.

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This is not so much a post-match report of a game as it is the autopsy of a catastrophic season.

16th placed Nottingham Forest rested 10 starters from their clash against Villa and to the surprise of absolutely no one, raced into a 2-0 lead in under 15 minutes. The club were on the verge losing six top flight games without scoring for the first time since the club was formed in 1905, a terrifying record salvaged by the sole spark of magic provided by Joao Pedro’s bicycle kick.

For the most part though it was listless blue shirts shrugging in embarrassment and sleep-walking through disasters, unperturbed by the now indisputable fact that are now the worst Chelsea team to exist this millennium.

“What you see now, what the club does, and obviously the personnel,” Petr Cech told the Athletic yesterday. “A lot of things have changed. So it’s a completely different approach, different mentality.”

None of it seems to stop the apathy-fuelled rot that has corroded the club’s fabric since Maresca’s “48-hours” outburst, one that has seen it decay into a grotesque entity unrecognizable from the one that won the Club World Cup what now feels like a decade ago.

Last season’s gruelling campaign has taken its toll, physically and mentally; Palmer, a dead-eyed sniper from the spot missed only his 2nd penalty in 25 attempts. He now has 5 non-penalty goals in his last 39 games, a far-cry from the transformative talisman that haunted opposition sides with disdain in his first season-and-a-half at the club.

After Forest scored their 3rd, Stamford Bridge emptied out rapidly, most remaining only to ensure howls of discontent would still be heard at a time of complete dissonance from the club. It is saying something that the only time the stadium applauded apart from Joao Pedro’s goal was when Jesse Derry and Rob Sanchez were stretchered off.

Why would the mood be any different? In the past 10 games, Chelsea are joint bottom for points earned with Burnley at 5, managing only a goal more, and sitting three behind relegation threatened Tottenham, whose manager was at the Bridge, wondering whether it was his side or the one he was watching that were battling relegation.

Levi Colwill’s return to first-team action was the most minute of consolation, but there has not been an FA Cup final in living memory that Chelsea fans have been less enthused for. There is no nervous excitement, just inevitable dread, of a flyweight walking into a ring with a heavyweight praying they’ll dodge haymakers for 90 minutes straight.

How most of this squad, any of the five Sporting Directors or the owners can still claim any right to a place at the club is inconceivable. But the way the club is run these days and the massive financial hole burnt through its coffers, will ensure the weeds stay rooted in place, killing whatever little life wants to desperately thrive in the earth.

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