Universe stays kind and preserves the age of Graham Potter at Chelsea

F our minutes before half-time, with Borussia Dortmund still 1-0 up from the first leg, with Chelsea still playing in a way that was both careful and frantic, a team always trying to leave the house and constantly forgetting their keys, there was a sense of something being settled, some elemental question filtering across the Stamford Bridge pitch.

That question was not simply: can Chelsea actually score a goal? Although it was also, and to a very large degree, can Chelsea actually score a goal. But on a more basic level, it was: which way is this thing going to fall? What does the universe intend to do with Graham Potter? Will it be kind to him?

On his touchline Potter seemed to feel it, standing there a little hunched and stricken in his quilted overcoat, watching this happen to him. I have measured out my life in shanked shots. At which point Kalidou Koulibaly did something very difficult, producing a kind of anti-shot, volleying the ball backwards away from an open goal. Is this how it’s going to go?

A minute later Ben Chilwell slashed a shot wide, with the Chelsea bench already up leaping and clutching at each other in desperation. But this thing was still happening, the numbers still scrolling, the wind deciding which way to settle.

Two minutes before half-time Chilwell sniped down the left again, and pulled the ball back to Raheem Sterling. At which point Sterling air-kicked spectacularly, air-kicked so decisively the colours seemed to freeze and fade, the night starting to turn.

But wait. The ball had hit his standing leg. It lingered dutifully, still hoping to be of use. Sterling crash-tackled his way forwards and lashed it violently into the net, stopping the clock before it could hit eight hours of football