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What more could you have reasonably expected from Chelsea? Looking back on their unforgiving 2-0 loss to Real Madrid there was only one obvious answer to the question that will plague Frank Lampard in the coming six days: how can his players get close to their counterparts in white? There is no tactical wheeze, no systemic adjustment that is going to bridge the chasm. Chelsea just need better players.

On the evidence of tonight's performance, there is precious little false about their positioning in the Premier League. This was the sort of display you'd expect from a midtable English side against the reigning champions of Europe. There were flashes, especially at the outset, where you could start sketching out the introduction to a different story. What hope for the rest of the continent when the average Premier League club can cut through them with the speed and vision of N'Golo Kante and Joao Felix?

Enzo Fernandez was finding pockets of space to deliver his passes, Reece James was careening up the right and Raheem Sterling was dropping into midfield to allow Chelsea to string together meandering spells in possession. It was not a lot, but you could convince yourself it might be a foothold on the way to a stalemate or maybe even something better.

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It did not, and could not, last. It was as though Carlo Ancelotti's men spent the first 15 or so minutes of the tie in absorption mode: sit back and learn from Chelsea, let them stretch their legs and show you the weak points at which to strike. Once Madrid got a grasp on Lampard's side, they were simply remorseless. Once a weak point emerged it was attacked with ferocity. Lampard could have been forgiven for running onto the pitch to embrace Wesley Fofana, who the opposition had evidently concluded was insufficiently tested at the highest level of European football.

Vinicius Junior took it upon himself to give the youngster a crash course in the harsh realities of the Champions League, baiting a yellow card from him within five minutes. The 22 year old was playing on egg shells from that moment on, his allowing Vinicius to drift goal side of him to take the shot that would lead to Karim Benzema's opener was reflective of a mind that was already frazzled inside the first 21 minutes.

It was not as if the supporting cast could aid Fofana by slowing Vinicius down. Set against the Brazilian on the Chelsea right were Reece James, one of the few modern full backs who excels on and off the ball, and the relentless figure of N'Golo Kante. Neither could get within touching distance of Vinicius, who ghosted into the box at will. His 19 touches in the penalty area was almost twice as much as the entire Chelsea side. 

Fofana and Fofana alone might have been relieved to see Marc Cucurella enter the fray, in much the same way that successfully running away from the bear involves, first and foremost, finding a slower friend. Someone of an even inferior stature for the playground bully to pick on. Immediately Madrid's pressure switched to the Spaniard.

This was Chelsea's problem. Well one of them. Chelsea's second highest scorer in the Premier League and Champions League since Lampard was first appointed in the summer of 2019 is Tammy Abraham, who had about a season of regular football with the club. That seems suboptimal. Something to investigate in the future, perhaps. There was always a weak link for Madrid to needle. The players in blue seemed to know that themselves too.

With anyone else behind him, Ben Chilwell's response when Cucurella totally abandoned Rodrygo might have been to play the numbers, putting just enough pressure on the attacker to put him off his stride whilst trusting his goalkeeper to do the rest. If Chilwell does not trust Kepa Arrizabalaga you could not blame him. The way in which he hurled Rodrygo to the ground, a challenge he must have known would result in a red card, suggested he believed Chelsea had more chance of getting a usable result from this with 10 men than relying on their No.1 in a one vs. one situation.

For all the billions spent, this was a team with too many Kepas, not enough Kantes. Lampard has more forwards than spaces for them in the squad but he and his successor could still do with a number nine, a number 10, an incisive presence on the right, anything really that isn't a player who is at their best in the inside left channel, playing off a central striker. The defenders are either too young or too old. The midfield makes far less sense without Kante, whose fitness is porcelain fragile.

If Chelsea's fourth manager of the season can address all those endemic flaws in the next six days they have a chance of doing to Real Madrid what Real Madrid do to so many others, snatching something magical from what seems certain doom. Barring this most miraculous turn of events however, all that lies in wait at Stamford Bridge is another harsh reminder of how vast the abyss is between the middle of the pack in the Premier League and Europe's very best sides.