I Guess That's Why They Call Them The Blues

Obsession, according to Herman Melville, is the pre-occupation with “one unachieved revengeful desire”. If the McGraw-Hill Concise Dictionary of Modern Medicine is to be believed (and no-one's saying it shouldn't), 'obsessions' are “recurrent and persistent thoughts... caus[ing] marked anxiety or distress.” Alternatively, if you take the word of Kate Moss as gospel, obsession is a bewildering, monochrome headfuck with a nice smell. What I'm trying to say is that obsession is clearly an intense emotional state. Whatever the object of your desire – be it money, a woman or a big whale – you may well find your life spiralling out of control while the obsession itself, relaxing on a distant rock, laconically brushing its hair with a fish bone, simply continues to tease you towards an inevitably bloody shipwreck. In Sir Alex Ferguson's opinion, obsession – namely, with the European Cup – is what drives Roman Abramovich and what in turn may cost Chelsea boss Carlo Ancelotti his job just twelve months after delivering the club its first ever league and FA Cup double.

In the run-up to Tuesday night's Champions League quarter-final second leg face-off with Manchester United, Sir Alex claimed that the Chelsea owner's interest in 'old big ears' had moved beyond acceptable levels of normalcy to a place approaching sickness – an ailment that sure enough once paled the Scot's own ruddy complexion until “that night in Barcelona” (copyright Clive Tyldesley). To the disappointment of Mrs Sir, Fergie described winning the Champion's League as “the greatest feeling of all time”, a buzz rediscovered three years ago at the expense of Tuesday's opponents. While United now stand potentially just 180 minutes away from a third final in four attempts, Chelsea's obsession is left to grow even more toxic and intoxicating, their 3-1 aggregate defeat epitomising all that hasn't glittered this season.

To describe Chelsea's season thus far as 'rollercoaster' would be to re-imagine Nemesis as a model railway trip around the grounds of a stately home. The goal-drenched, they'll-win-it-by-Christmas thrill ride of the season's opening weeks came quickly and dramatically off the rails, crashing headlong into a one-win-in-nine league streak which will, barring a United choke of McIlroy-esque proportions, cost them the retention of their league title. Meanwhile, Ray Wilkins went from highly respected no. 2 to bizarre internet meme in the blinking of an eye, while Didier Drogba and Frank Lampard suffered hitherto unseen plummets in form. And then there is Fernando Torres.

For forty-five minutes on Tuesday, Torres tried his darnedest to get the better of United's rearguard to no avail. His all-round game since arriving in London has been, to these eyes, not bad but not entirely great either. His movement has been repeatedly touted as a reason to keep the faith, although his previously Velcro touch has near deserted him. Samson currently appears shorn of confidence as well as his bottle-blonde locks.

On Tuesday night Torres didn't do a whole lot wrong, popping an early header just wide before setting up a chance for Nicolas Anelka to spurn, but equally never caused Nemanja Vidic the kind of trouble he used to for Liverpool. What Chelsea lacked during the opening half was a focal point and a man of strength to trouble Vidic and the rejuvenated Rio Ferdinand. That man was an Ivorian sat fifty feet away and, once swapped for the Spaniard, sparked life into Chelsea's attack, unnerving the red defensive wall and ultimately scoring the goal which, albeit briefly, threw Chelsea a lifeline.

Now eleven matches into his Stamford Bridge career, the man with the Liverpool tattoo still awaits his first goal in a Blue shirt. Compare and contrast his sad barren spell and protracted transfer saga with the rich form and under-the-radar capture by United of Javier Hernandez and you'll find a neat summation of the opposing ways in which the clubs have gone about their respective business this term. As such, to lay the blame for Chelsea's exit at Torres' misfiring feet would not only be unfair on the Spaniard, but would also only serve to whitewash certain larger issues lurking along the Fulham Road.

The one thing Chelsea have lacked since the acrimonious departure of Jose Mourinho in late 2007 has been stability. A procession of managers – Avram Grant, Phil Scolari and Guus Hiddink (albeit by pre-arrangement) – have come and gone, muddling along but rarely given a chance to make their own mark on the club. Grant came within a John Terry tumble of removing the Champions League monkey from their collective backs, while in contrast Scolari was gone before the 2009 knock-out phase, leaving Hiddink to be so cruelly denied a second final appearance of his career by the latest of late Barcelona winners.

Over the course of his continued success at Old Trafford, Ferguson has publicly stated that one trophy in the cabinet per year represents a successful return. Whether or not the Scot feels differently in private is another matter, but Abramovich's apparently nonplussed, been-there-done-that attitude towards domestic success only highlights further the Russian's unhealthy addiction to the Champion's League. It's like each time he shows up at the annual Oligarch Ball with the Premier League trophy on his arm, he casts envious glances around the room to find his peers showing off new successes and prettier dates, feeling emasculated by some perceived sense of inferiority, grinning a brave grin but inwardly suppressing a dawning realisation that perhaps his money can't buy him everything he wants.

The big talk hasn't helped either. Upon his appointment as chief executive in November 2009, Ron Gourlay went on record challenging the club to triumph in Europe not once but twice over the following five years. No pressure there then. It's the kind of footballing machismo we've become used to hearing from successive Real Madrid bigwigs, but to find it spouted by a club as relatively new to the top table as Chelsea feels slightly unbecoming. There aren't many neutrals in mourning each time Chelsea fall that little bit short. When you take into account Arsenal's title push and Tottenham's epic European adventure, Gourlay's head will have hit the pillow more than once recently heavy with the knowledge that, for large parts of the season at least, his side have been unofficially relegated to the status of third best in London. Sleepless nights will have surely followed.

The depth of Chelsea's first team squad has also come under scrutiny. While the media's quarter-final plaudits have been mostly bestowed on Ryan Giggs and Wayne Rooney, it has been the bit-parters who have again stood tall on the night, once more helping hold a United season together. Having shipped out the ageing likes of Michael Ballack and Deco, Chelsea's intended second-string replacements, such as Jeffrey Bruma, Josh McEachran and Gaël Kakuta, have failed to provide the required back-up, with several now loaned out to Championship sides. While it's true that United have a host of youngsters currently learning their trade down the divisions, Ferguson has at his disposal a core of squad players that can slot seamlessly into the side when required. What Ancelotti wouldn't give for a John O'Shea or a Ji-Sung Park, players who in truth represent the heart and soul of the club and remain the constant, unsung cornerstones of Ferguson's era. Given time, various players currently available to Ancelotti may well become just as important to Chelsea's cause, but the fact Ferguson has these types to call on here and now speaks volumes about his and United's long term planning, and holds a brutally honest mirror up to Chelsea's subtle failings.

In the meantime, Ancelotti finds himself walking into an uncertain future. He is not without blame for this season's underachievement, tinkering formations in a manner that would make Claudio Ranieri proud, attempting to find a place for a certain pricey Kop defector at the expense of the width and penetration that was key to last year's double triumph. The Italian's two-time European Cup success as AC Milan coach must have been a (if not the) key reason for his appointment – how ironic it would be if he departed with 'only' domestic league and cup medals to his name; titles achieved under Mourinho (and, where the latter is concerned, Hiddink) back what seems like a lifetime ago.

Indeed, having led Inter Milan to victory last spring, Mourinho now finds himself prepping for a glamorous semi-final showdown with Barcelona, as Abramovic merely watches on and ponders what could have been. As a retort to Ferguson's pre-match comment, Ancelotti stated that lifting the European Cup is, for Chelsea, “not an obsession. It's a dream.” He might be more right than he realises.

~ Matt

In The Bowels Of The Bernabéu

Real Madrid vs. Tottenham Hotspur

Real will step out this evening as clear favourites, European aristocracy with the type of silver-tinted history that most clubs covet. Tottenham, blue collared for the evening, are undoubtedly the young pretenders on nights such as these. Should the same type of panic that beset them on their first visit to the San Siro overcome them tonight, in the bowels of the Bernabéu, their hopes could be dashed before half time. Their fans would hope that magnificent victories in the campaign have since steeled the team from such displays of naivety.

Much has been written of Cristiano Ronaldo’s contribution to tonight’s proceedings, and anyone familiar with the direct and powerful runs which typified his time in the Premier League will need no reminding that in his stride and in moments of virtuosic skill he is nigh on impossible to stop. Instead, it would be more prudent for Tottenham to concentrate on the man with the ability to flay a midfield with a single pass: Xabi Alonso. It is hard to argue that Liverpool haven’t missed his incisive passing. Conjuring from possession deep in his own half, razor sharp passes that find the No.10 – be it Steven Gerrard then or Mesut Özil now – cutting the opponent’s midfield out of the game and placing huge pressure on the opposition’s defence. Should he be able to find Ronaldo with these types of passes Tottenham’s defence may find themselves faced with the world’s most dynamic forward bearing down on them.

With possession Alonso can spark an attack from the slightest kindling, and it should be this that Tottenham look to snuff out. Without question Real have the ability to artfully construct attacks and to place enormous pressure on an opponent, but should the pace of their attacking be slowed it should allow Tottenham to better engineer their defence, to defend with the play in front of them rather than finding themselves in a foot race with Ronaldo, Özil or Di María.

With the ball Tottenham can hurt Madrid. It will be interesting to see how Real set out their stall: there have been murmurings from Real players, particularly from Álvaro Arbeloa, who discussed in the Guardian recently the difficulty teams in Europe have found dealing with Peter Crouch’s knock-downs in the 18 yard box. He has suggested that should Crouch play, Madrid will play a high line as he lacks pace. This would be a gift to Tottenham as it would create space behind the Real line for Gareth Bale and Aaron Lennon to exploit. One wouldn’t expect Mourinho to be so tactless in his approach. Expect Madrid to sit deep and allow Ricardo Carvalho to deal with Crouch and invite Tottenham up the pitch to attack looking to hit them with explosive counter attacks.

As with any Champions League quarter final first leg this will be a cagey affair and Mourinho has already suggested that he wouldn’t have a problem heading to White Hart Lane needing to score to progress. However, with Tottenham’s electrifying performances so far, a betting man would be wise to place his roll of twenties back in his pocket. Real have waited six years for this opportunity, Tottenham vastly longer, and both sets of 11 will be lacing up tonight with the hope of lifting the biggest cup in Europe aloft.

~Ed