Everton 0-3 Chelsea: Now that was a massive win!

Antonio Conte went with his preferred line up for much of the season, with Fabregas dropping to the bench. We almost managed to stuff it up from the start when a sort of dawdling venture forward by the home side somehow hit the post and passed Courtois by. Lucky that Captain, Leader, potential Legend, Cahill saved the day with an instinctive block. While Everton started with a spring in their step, Steklenberg was wasting time before we'd got to the fifth minute. Oh joy, it's going to be one of those afternoons, we thought. And it was, for the rest of the first hour. Gueye came out with a sole intention of going at Hazard with all the subtlety of Donald Trump making a pass at someone (Janice (muppet alias) has just remarked that he has been 100 days in office already. "Where did they go?" She asked. "I don't know," says I, "I've had my head buried purposely in the sand for most of them") Lukaku backed into anything that moved with the vigour of an aggressively randy Jack Russell. Oh and some floppy haired twat with a bob that I haven't seen sported since housewives on early 90s sitcoms rampaged about waving his leg at everyone. He might actually have been the lost Hanson brother. 

Either way, here's a philosophical question for you. If Davies is stuck in the nineties and everything else (stadium, fashion, music over the tannoy) at Goodison is firmly still wedged in the 70s/80s, does that mean he is a cutting edge trend setter in the land of Scouse? 

Anyway. The first half was sh*t. Some tenacious play in midfield by Costa saw Hazard in on goal but the angle was tight and he ran out pitch and hit the side netting. That was about the best of it. If anything we were just too cautious and sloppy in our passing. Matic did his best impression of Eden but his shot went straight to keeper. Lukaku struck wide, and Diego muscled off a centre back (who cares which) to end up with a close range shot and fluffed it over the cross bar. On the half hour mark the game just seemed to be crying out for Fabregas. 

Half time it was. Without being potent up front, Everton had managed to completely break up our game in midfield. It can only get better, right? 

Wrong. The second half started off exactly how we ended the first, though a trickily worked corner was struck just wide by Moses. An hour gone. We haven't strung any decent balls together in midfield all day. And we have Fabregas on the bench. The equation seems pretty simple to me. So I carried on moaning. Everton's key man? Jonathan F*cking Moss. Which brings me to: 

Refwatch: I was going to keep this rant brief, but f*ck it. It's a long drive back to civilisation, and so it's as epic in size as the man himself. When someone as mild-mannered as Matic is chasing you up the pitch doing the universally recognised angry sign language for "where are your f*cking" glasses?" You are having a truly awful day. Let's not forget that this was the incompetent who stuffed Palace in midweek by letting Wanyama stay on the pitch. Apparently he is on a one man crusade to win Sp*rs the title. I lost count of the sheer amount of fouls, shirt pulling, handballs and foul throws that he missed. I was ready to fling myself at him like a rabid squirrel and claw his eyes out on sixty minutes. At one point Gueye two-arm wrestled Hazard to the ground from behind and Moss, a foot away, signalled it was fine. He then booked Costa for having the audacity to go for the ball in the box, and that minutes after he threatened to book him for dissent when it was his dismissive body language and whatever he said on Costa being fouled that led to him gobbing off in the first place. I'll say it for the fiftieth time this season. They don't have to be perfect, but they have to be consistent. And consistently sh*t does not count. I could happily go on but I'll save the rest for a retrospective evaluation of referees this season for the book version of this blog. 

Along comes Pedro to save the day with an awesome long range strike. Is he left footed, right footed? Who f*cking cares. Relief. For about a minute. Then more panic. Please get another one. Koeman was going to have a go, and brought on Mirallas and Kone. Lukaku came close once more for the home side with a free kick which went just high and wide, but they'd basically lost their discipline and then it was game over. A Hazard free kick was swinging in on goal only to be parried away by Steklenberg. Unlucky for him that it went straight onto the knee of that renowned goal poacher Gary Cahill. I f*cking love that man. Fabregas (proving that I know nothing) and Ake came on as the clock ticked down by which time my note taking went to sh*t. Five minutes from time Cesc ambled into the box with utter, languid contempt for the defence and played the ball back to Willian for a third. Willy could have had another in injury time, but by this point the away support was mostly too hysterical to notice. R*ttenham H*tspur, we're waiting for you. 

So: A moany old hobo pointed out that when we beat Everton 3-6 Moss was also the referee and it was also on the 30th of the month. I haven't checked this, because I have a life. And I've got gin to pour. Instead, I want to say something to all of the nappy sh*tters that appear not to have noticed Gary Cahill's contribution to our side for the last five years when they are slagging him off and saying he's not good enough. (I know I'm going to get a right on from my Fancast smutbuddy and Cahill's mum, at least) He put us ahead on Tuesday, he stopped us going behind in the opening minutes today and there he was determined to f*cking do something in the box again today to get us the points. He has risen to wearing that armband so that he is a worthy successor to JT. Nobody can be John, but this man, even when he is sick, injured, even out of form, leaves everything he has got on the pitch. You can't ask for much more, that is the mark of a pro. For crying out loud, the man limped through 120 minutes on one leg to help deliver us the European Cup. So we didn't raise him. So what? Since the day he signed for Chelsea he has been as Blue as you or I and that will do for me. 

Everton probably thought they were hard done by that score line. From my perspective, not a f*ck was given. At the final whistle it felt like someone hit release on a safety valve and vented all of the pressure that has been building up in the title run in. In the last week we've gone six points closer to the title, including a never say die victory after a miserable hour in what was the hardest fixture left and we've thumped Sp*rs against the supposed odds at Wembley to leave the double on. I think the whole team believe that if they just carry on doing what they are doing, it's theirs for the taking. We're making a slight f*cking meal of it, because we are Chelsea, but we're getting there. 

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Check out the full blog post (and rants) here!

AC