What occurred between Burnley Football Club and Chelsea Football Club between the hours of 19:45 GMT and (approximately) 21:30 GMT on April 19th, 2018?
The two Football Clubs, having shed, alas temporarily, many tertiary duties, such as: merchandising, socialising, appelatising, and scandalising, assumed their primary purpose and played a match of football against one another.
What was at stake in this football match?
Three Premier League points, plump, fresh, and delectable.
Did the winning or losing of those points have a material value?
Both teams required a victory for their hopes of playing in certain continental competitions in the 2018/19 season. Burnley, hosting, were in hot pursuit of a Europa League place; Chelsea in rather colder pursuit of the Champions League. Securing these spots is of vast importance to each clubs’ accountants.
What of the emotional value?
Extant, but more or less assumed.
In what sense?
In the sense that any attachment to a professional sports team is by nature contrived, a means by which shocks, sharp uncontrolled and uncontrollable, are permitted to e(a)ffect individuals in a socially acceptable way.
Is it possible for the intense and looming risk of loss to constitute escapism?
Yes, as has been clear for thousands of years. Half of that famous Latinate mantra is devoted to the entertainers, without whom — Blue, Green, Red, White (but never Claret) — the urban masses might have turned themselves towards more dubious pursuits. It is a curious fact that sports become culturally important only when struggle is far detached from daily life. The Circus Maximus turned out for Trajan and not Theodoric; Theodesius’s obelisk would never have occurred to Constantine XI. Without dark clouds of defeat in view and in threat, we require that they be seeded.
But winning is preferable?
Unequivocally.
Which team emerged unequivocally triumphant, to the preference of its fans?
Chelsea, 2-1.
Were there any events particularly worth chronicle?
At a certain point one of the several involved strikers embarked on a strange and humiliating escapade.
Who was this striker?
Alvaro Morata, Chelsea number nine, Spain number variable, ex of Real Madrid, Juventus, Real Madrid once more, and 24 years. The privilege of transferring 120,000 sterling to his bank account every week cost a further 58 million (one-time only), which Alvaro considers a bargain in light of his undisputed talents, disposition, and savagely cultivated hair.
What did he do?
Raced onto a through ball from N’Golo Kante. To his left a teammate teased Sean Dyche’s solitary/insalutory defender out of position; Morata saw space ahead and seized it, devouring the yards with feet and ball until his path was impeded by one Nick Pope, duosyllabic netkeeper and strictly accidental England international. THUMPthump went Morata’s right boot, for the Moor was holding its collective breath and the sound of the strike echoed back off the frozen-chested parade. The ball described a straight line, vicious, buzzing-bouncing along Turf and despatched beyond the perplexed Three Lion.
What was the outcome of said shot?
Said shot missed wide left.
The reaction?
Universally: Shock, surprise, bafflement, befuddlement, agitation (directionally neutral). Locally: Anger (Morata, Conte, Chelsea supporters). Locally: Mirth (Every observer not aforementioned). Locally: Relief (Dyche, Burnley, Burnley supporters). Locally: Retrieving the ball and taking a goal kick (Nick Pope).
Was there an impact on the competition, i.e. did the failure to score produce a pronounced shift in the likelihood of one team or another emerging victorious, i.e. was Morata’s miss an impulse causing a change of momentum?
Yes and no. Within minutes came the equaliser, within minutes also the winner.
Was there an impact on Morata?
Substituted, sullenstewing Spanish striker shamefully slings shinpads.
How did the two teams play?
Antonio Conte and Sean Dyche, managing the visitors and hosts respectively, relied both on quick vertical penetration and second-ball clashes to escape defensive pressure in midfield. Both side played a medium-deep defensive block with packed midfields, minimal anti-half pressing triggers and marked use of both ultra-wide flank play and gegen-lobbed invitations for centre-centre combat. Wingbacks caused confusion continual, finding and sewing and reaping seams between wide players who struggled to coordinate their zonal assignations. Both Chelsea goals arrived from this mechanism. Burnley overwhelmed in half-spaces, full-spaces and presumably (but untestably) null-spaces.
Less opaquely?
Both teams tried to play quickly up the pitch while preventing the other team doing the same. Chelsea were more successful, significantly due to their wide players.
How came the goals?
In the first half: A raking pass from deep to Victor Moses, a cross, two bizarre bounces, a helpless goalkeeper. Chelsea 1-0.
In the second half: A speculative shot from range, a bizarre bounce, a helpless goalkeeper. 1-1.
In the second half, shortly following: A deep cross from left to Victor Moses, a steadying touch and a smart finish, no bizarre bounces but a helpless goalkeeper nonetheless. Chelsea 2-1.
What did we learn during the match (it is to be understood that this question and the following refer exclusively to learnings derived from the play itself)?
All observers paying sufficient attention and with insufficient mental calcification became marginally better at deciphering football matches from the perspective of television cameras. Bayes’ famed probabilisitic theorem can be applied, albeit mangled:
i.e. our (conditional) footballing model has (probabilistically speaking) been altered (infinitesimally) by observing ninety minutes of play at Turf Moor.
But did anyone learn anything concrete?
Unlikely.