Post Match Chelsea Caribao Cup Final
- Thread starter rurikbird
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Last available accounts (2022) had Chelsea squad cost at £917m v our £729m.
I reckon as of now it's more like £1.2bn (Chelsea) v £0.7bn (LFC), bearing in mind costs written off via sales as well as spend (in our case we'll have taken out significant costs on Keita, Fabinho, Ox, Mane, Bobby. Hendo, hence no significant movement in the net cost.
They must have had a serious number of expensive injuries too then.
Chukwuemeka, lavia and ugochukwu are the 3 I can think of that cost monies
Haha, they found the TV and rescheduled the delivery. Getting it later today.
Fucking Elgiganten (Elkjøp).
Haha, good. Elkjøp are crap.
Yeah, I would have posted straight after the match if I was watching live, but I could only watch the replay later in the evening. I do think this game needed a post-match thread.
Fuck me, I think I’m beginning to warm to Talksport too!!!
View: https://x.com/talkSPORT/status/1762058255079981171?s=20
View: https://x.com/talkSPORT/status/1762058255079981171?s=20
Chelsea waste their chance and show again what a weird team they are
Mauricio Pochettino’s team resembled in this Carabao Cup final the most salutary lesson in waste and greed
Barney Ronay at Wembley
@barneyronay
Sun 25 Feb 2024 21.13 GMT
Share
There was a telling, and also quite funny, moment at the start of extra time in this Carabao Cup final, a match won late on by a Liverpool team so depleted it resembled by the end one of those Friday night, club TV channel youth-team affairs, gangly kids with floppy hair veering about at some half-deserted practice ground, parents in the stand.
As the moments ticked down to the restart Liverpool’s players formed a huddle near the halfway line. At which point the Chelsea team, already in formation, seemed to realise that actually that’s the kind of thing we should be doing and abruptly shuffled in to form an even tighter, more righteous blue huddle, like a clingy new couple offering up a performative show of affection around the dinner table.
Liverpool win Carabao Cup as Van Dijk’s extra-time header sinks Chelsea
Read more
It happened again in the next interval, this time even more wildly, a full staff huddle, as though one of those Derbyshire games of village bladder-ball had broken out mid-final. And in that moment it felt like a perfect miniature, an emblem of what this Chelsea FC footballing entity is, basically some men chucked together without thought or chemistry; and resembling more than ever here the most salutary lesson in waste, greed, and how not to build an elite sporting team.
There are two things worth saying about Chelsea’s 1-0 defeat by Liverpool at Wembley. First, it was by the end a genuine shocker for everyone involved. This was a game Chelsea really ought to have won, but one where they dished up instead a performance lacking in teeth or any kind of in-game influence from Mauricio Pochettino.
Indeed he could well be one game from the sack given the steady downward stumble of the season. Chelsea are still in one cup, until midweek at least, and paddling vaguely in the league, although even in defeat here they went from 10th to 11th in the table. Would any other manager do any better, charged with making this random collection of human talent look like a coherent sporting entity? Would anyone who might have a chance want the job?
Chelsea weren’t terrible here. They were just vague, weird, hard to read or understand. This is a team without a narrative. This is a random-energy machine. For very brief periods they were suddenly good, purposeful, producing zingy little passages of passing. Then just as abruptly, they fell apart, or sank back into lethargy.
But then we have never really seen a football team like this, assembled with such a mania, so deliberately and clumsily opposed to any existing notions of continuity, the human scale, ideas about how the pieces might fit together.
In fact the only really recognisable part of this Chelsea defeat was the sense of an old-fashioned bottle job, a dropping of the ball with the line in their sights. They came into this game as second favourites. But scan the team sheets at the start and Chelsea had a demonstrably more illustrious team here, man for man, albeit the word “team” must be used advisedly when referring to a collection of players with no coherent internal architecture.
But in theory everything fell Chelsea’s way here. Liverpool had at least 10 first-team players out at the start. Shall we just round that up, sir, to the full 11? With 26 minutes gone Ryan Gravenberch rolled an ankle in gruesome fashion, made all the more painful by the fact his ankle happened at the time to be under the studs of Moisés Caicedo. He left on a stretcher. Liverpool rejigged from their rejig.
And by the midway point of the second half this billion-pound miscellany, the non-team of all the talents, was competing against a team of youth-team alumni, eager and talented fill-ins. By the time Virgil van Dijk scored the winning goal with a penalty shootout looming the people flopping on top of him were Bobby Clark, James McConnell and Jayden Danns, energetic kids out there having the time of their lives. By contrast the player Van Dijk had to outjump to score was Mykhailo Mudryk, basically a YouTube player signed as a punt, another human part thrown into this random football generator.
There was an irony in Chelsea even playing this final given their ownership model basically doesn’t really want this competition to exist, wants instead to be doing grander things with its midweeks. Win this and Chelsea would have got into the Europa Conference League. Can they even play in it? Will Uefa, with its tougher FFP rules, actually allow it?
For all that, they did play well at times. Cole Palmer had some nice moments. Conor Gallagher might have won it with some luck. The players gave everything they had and were utterly deflated at the end, Pochettino close to tears.
As ever this defeat, like all Chelsea defeats right now, is on the ownership, on the business plan, on the sheer frat-boy financier arrogance of that beat-the-market spending spree, on always believing you’re the smartest guy in the room. Chelsea had a chance to turn all that energy into something tangible here, to seize the moment. It passed because they met a more coherent sporting entity, with greater will, deeper gears. For now, this thing remains a bust.
That same exact team had just got a draw with Man City.
Chelsea waste their chance and show again what a weird team they are
Mauricio Pochettino’s team resembled in this Carabao Cup final the most salutary lesson in waste and greed
Barney Ronay at Wembley
@barneyronay
Sun 25 Feb 2024 21.13 GMT
Share
There was a telling, and also quite funny, moment at the start of extra time in this Carabao Cup final, a match won late on by a Liverpool team so depleted it resembled by the end one of those Friday night, club TV channel youth-team affairs, gangly kids with floppy hair veering about at some half-deserted practice ground, parents in the stand.
As the moments ticked down to the restart Liverpool’s players formed a huddle near the halfway line. At which point the Chelsea team, already in formation, seemed to realise that actually that’s the kind of thing we should be doing and abruptly shuffled in to form an even tighter, more righteous blue huddle, like a clingy new couple offering up a performative show of affection around the dinner table.
Liverpool win Carabao Cup as Van Dijk’s extra-time header sinks Chelsea
Read more
It happened again in the next interval, this time even more wildly, a full staff huddle, as though one of those Derbyshire games of village bladder-ball had broken out mid-final. And in that moment it felt like a perfect miniature, an emblem of what this Chelsea FC footballing entity is, basically some men chucked together without thought or chemistry; and resembling more than ever here the most salutary lesson in waste, greed, and how not to build an elite sporting team.
There are two things worth saying about Chelsea’s 1-0 defeat by Liverpool at Wembley. First, it was by the end a genuine shocker for everyone involved. This was a game Chelsea really ought to have won, but one where they dished up instead a performance lacking in teeth or any kind of in-game influence from Mauricio Pochettino.
Indeed he could well be one game from the sack given the steady downward stumble of the season. Chelsea are still in one cup, until midweek at least, and paddling vaguely in the league, although even in defeat here they went from 10th to 11th in the table. Would any other manager do any better, charged with making this random collection of human talent look like a coherent sporting entity? Would anyone who might have a chance want the job?
Chelsea weren’t terrible here. They were just vague, weird, hard to read or understand. This is a team without a narrative. This is a random-energy machine. For very brief periods they were suddenly good, purposeful, producing zingy little passages of passing. Then just as abruptly, they fell apart, or sank back into lethargy.
But then we have never really seen a football team like this, assembled with such a mania, so deliberately and clumsily opposed to any existing notions of continuity, the human scale, ideas about how the pieces might fit together.
In fact the only really recognisable part of this Chelsea defeat was the sense of an old-fashioned bottle job, a dropping of the ball with the line in their sights. They came into this game as second favourites. But scan the team sheets at the start and Chelsea had a demonstrably more illustrious team here, man for man, albeit the word “team” must be used advisedly when referring to a collection of players with no coherent internal architecture.
But in theory everything fell Chelsea’s way here. Liverpool had at least 10 first-team players out at the start. Shall we just round that up, sir, to the full 11? With 26 minutes gone Ryan Gravenberch rolled an ankle in gruesome fashion, made all the more painful by the fact his ankle happened at the time to be under the studs of Moisés Caicedo. He left on a stretcher. Liverpool rejigged from their rejig.
And by the midway point of the second half this billion-pound miscellany, the non-team of all the talents, was competing against a team of youth-team alumni, eager and talented fill-ins. By the time Virgil van Dijk scored the winning goal with a penalty shootout looming the people flopping on top of him were Bobby Clark, James McConnell and Jayden Danns, energetic kids out there having the time of their lives. By contrast the player Van Dijk had to outjump to score was Mykhailo Mudryk, basically a YouTube player signed as a punt, another human part thrown into this random football generator.
There was an irony in Chelsea even playing this final given their ownership model basically doesn’t really want this competition to exist, wants instead to be doing grander things with its midweeks. Win this and Chelsea would have got into the Europa Conference League. Can they even play in it? Will Uefa, with its tougher FFP rules, actually allow it?
For all that, they did play well at times. Cole Palmer had some nice moments. Conor Gallagher might have won it with some luck. The players gave everything they had and were utterly deflated at the end, Pochettino close to tears.
As ever this defeat, like all Chelsea defeats right now, is on the ownership, on the business plan, on the sheer frat-boy financier arrogance of that beat-the-market spending spree, on always believing you’re the smartest guy in the room. Chelsea had a chance to turn all that energy into something tangible here, to seize the moment. It passed because they met a more coherent sporting entity, with greater will, deeper gears. For now, this thing remains a bust.
You know guys - the Chelsea fans have that chant that gave Rudiger near mental health problems :-
Chelsea waste their chance and show again what a weird team they are
Mauricio Pochettino’s team resembled in this Carabao Cup final the most salutary lesson in waste and greed
Barney Ronay at Wembley
@barneyronay
Sun 25 Feb 2024 21.13 GMT
Share
There was a telling, and also quite funny, moment at the start of extra time in this Carabao Cup final, a match won late on by a Liverpool team so depleted it resembled by the end one of those Friday night, club TV channel youth-team affairs, gangly kids with floppy hair veering about at some half-deserted practice ground, parents in the stand.
As the moments ticked down to the restart Liverpool’s players formed a huddle near the halfway line. At which point the Chelsea team, already in formation, seemed to realise that actually that’s the kind of thing we should be doing and abruptly shuffled in to form an even tighter, more righteous blue huddle, like a clingy new couple offering up a performative show of affection around the dinner table.
Liverpool win Carabao Cup as Van Dijk’s extra-time header sinks Chelsea
Read more
It happened again in the next interval, this time even more wildly, a full staff huddle, as though one of those Derbyshire games of village bladder-ball had broken out mid-final. And in that moment it felt like a perfect miniature, an emblem of what this Chelsea FC footballing entity is, basically some men chucked together without thought or chemistry; and resembling more than ever here the most salutary lesson in waste, greed, and how not to build an elite sporting team.
There are two things worth saying about Chelsea’s 1-0 defeat by Liverpool at Wembley. First, it was by the end a genuine shocker for everyone involved. This was a game Chelsea really ought to have won, but one where they dished up instead a performance lacking in teeth or any kind of in-game influence from Mauricio Pochettino.
Indeed he could well be one game from the sack given the steady downward stumble of the season. Chelsea are still in one cup, until midweek at least, and paddling vaguely in the league, although even in defeat here they went from 10th to 11th in the table. Would any other manager do any better, charged with making this random collection of human talent look like a coherent sporting entity? Would anyone who might have a chance want the job?
Chelsea weren’t terrible here. They were just vague, weird, hard to read or understand. This is a team without a narrative. This is a random-energy machine. For very brief periods they were suddenly good, purposeful, producing zingy little passages of passing. Then just as abruptly, they fell apart, or sank back into lethargy.
But then we have never really seen a football team like this, assembled with such a mania, so deliberately and clumsily opposed to any existing notions of continuity, the human scale, ideas about how the pieces might fit together.
In fact the only really recognisable part of this Chelsea defeat was the sense of an old-fashioned bottle job, a dropping of the ball with the line in their sights. They came into this game as second favourites. But scan the team sheets at the start and Chelsea had a demonstrably more illustrious team here, man for man, albeit the word “team” must be used advisedly when referring to a collection of players with no coherent internal architecture.
But in theory everything fell Chelsea’s way here. Liverpool had at least 10 first-team players out at the start. Shall we just round that up, sir, to the full 11? With 26 minutes gone Ryan Gravenberch rolled an ankle in gruesome fashion, made all the more painful by the fact his ankle happened at the time to be under the studs of Moisés Caicedo. He left on a stretcher. Liverpool rejigged from their rejig.
And by the midway point of the second half this billion-pound miscellany, the non-team of all the talents, was competing against a team of youth-team alumni, eager and talented fill-ins. By the time Virgil van Dijk scored the winning goal with a penalty shootout looming the people flopping on top of him were Bobby Clark, James McConnell and Jayden Danns, energetic kids out there having the time of their lives. By contrast the player Van Dijk had to outjump to score was Mykhailo Mudryk, basically a YouTube player signed as a punt, another human part thrown into this random football generator.
There was an irony in Chelsea even playing this final given their ownership model basically doesn’t really want this competition to exist, wants instead to be doing grander things with its midweeks. Win this and Chelsea would have got into the Europa Conference League. Can they even play in it? Will Uefa, with its tougher FFP rules, actually allow it?
For all that, they did play well at times. Cole Palmer had some nice moments. Conor Gallagher might have won it with some luck. The players gave everything they had and were utterly deflated at the end, Pochettino close to tears.
As ever this defeat, like all Chelsea defeats right now, is on the ownership, on the business plan, on the sheer frat-boy financier arrogance of that beat-the-market spending spree, on always believing you’re the smartest guy in the room. Chelsea had a chance to turn all that energy into something tangible here, to seize the moment. It passed because they met a more coherent sporting entity, with greater will, deeper gears. For now, this thing remains a bust.
"Chelse, Chelsi, Chelsi" - I think that article could another dimension to that chant, maybe they should start chanting:
"Weirdo's, Weirdo's, Weirdo's..."
A scene out of Hogworts
Well, I kinda think that the interesting story is actually probably the cost of the teams that finished the game. If we take out the starters and replace them, it looks like this:
Chelsea:
Petrovic - £14M
Gusto - £30.75M
Disasi - £38.5M
Colwill - Academy
Chalobah - Academy
Caicedo - £115M
Fernandez - £107M
Palmer - £42.5M
Mudryk - £89M
Madueke - £28.5M
Nkunku - £52M
Finishing cost: £517.25M
Liverpool:
Kelleher - Academy
Gomez - £3.5M
Quansah - Academy
Virgil - £75M
Tsimi - £11.75M
Endo - £16M
Clark - Academy
McConnell - Academy
Elliott - £4.3M
Danns - Academy
Diaz - £50M
Finishing cost: £160.55M
So Chelsea brought on an additional £45M (ish) of talent, and we took off £177.5M of talent, and our youngsters still managed to show them up. Remarkable really, given that many (myself included) thought the longer the game went on, tge more it favoured the Chavs, based on the respective benches
Well when you put it like that......
It’s been a while since they’ve seen what a decent midfielder looks like.
Love the 'Donkey'!
Anyone wondering who the Asian Gentleman is
www.liverpoolfc.com
Motonori Watanabe, Masseur/Therapist - Liverpool FC
Motonori Watanabe - Liverpool FC Masseur/Therapist
www.liverpoolfc.com
Yeah he's not hit the heights that he had for Brighton yet, but he's a busy worker. I just don't think Enzo is the one to pair him with
THey've got Gallagher who is quality
YAY! Endo has a friendo!Anyone wondering who the Asian Gentleman is
Motonori Watanabe, Masseur/Therapist - Liverpool FC
Motonori Watanabe - Liverpool FC Masseur/Therapist
Which is ironic, dont they have to sell Gallagher to appease FFP? Lots of rumours that they have to do what Arsenal did for years with some of their best players regard to having to sell to make sure they stay in line with FFP. If this is true then this is a terrible long term strategy.
Yepp, I think @Beamrider explained this was due to all non-academy players having a 'book price' equating to their purchase fee + wage cost spread over term of contract. So selling them was sale price - book price, whereas academy dudes were wages only deducted
Since Chelsea have paid over the odds fees for most inbounds and given them multiple year contracts, selling them for a profit is pretty much impossible (in fact probably the reverse)
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