European champions rediscover mojo thanks to maverick Georgian’s late show to surely put tie beyond Chelsea’s reach
Oh Filip. Welcome to the Premier League’s latest bonus content machine. Barbecuing wide‑eyed second‑choice European goalkeepers over a high heat on some foreign field.
It will be tempting to dwell on the moment Chelsea started losing this game. And it is a moment that captured the reasons why they were cuffed aside in Paris: a combination of managerial naivety, twinned with the razor edge of Paris Saint‑Germain’s front six, in particular the brilliantly moreish Khvicha Kvaratskhelia.
Chelsea had played well for 74 minutes at the Parc des Princes. They came from behind twice, exploited space behind the flying full‑backs of PSG. And for a while this was just a really good, open game, the midfield an endless full-contact pirouette in search of space.
Elite football may be a systems‑slog. It may at times resemble a 22-man competitive knitting festival. But this didn’t feel like that. It was peppy, brisk, and evenly matched.
