Don't argue, Carlo, just howl at the supermoon

Perhaps it will also do as an explanation for why, at Stamford Bridge yesterday afternoon, two football teams built at great cost and directed by esteemed managers contrived to produce a game that had - for the first 78 minutes, at least - about as much entertainment value as a bout of German measles.

Chelsea will remember the scoreline and not the performance from yesterday's match. (I will remember it for a dull aching sensation that began in the side of my neck, spread to the base of my skull and made me wonder for a few minutes early in the second half whether I was coming down with the ague or just very, very bored.)

A 2-0 victory yesterday did them all sorts of good, both in terms of their Premier League position and their general mojo. But the scoreline in the end flattered the standard of a mostly sour contest.

"The quality on the pitch today will be high and it should be an entertaining game for you to watch," predicted Carlo Ancelotti in his programme notes. What he meant to say is: "this battle of the billionaires will be roughly as scintillating as the average Twitter spat between Piers Morgan and Sir Alan Sugar."

Afterwards he spoke for everyone when he said: "it was a very difficult game". But maybe that's being a bit harsh. At this late stage of the Premier League season, you get prizes for the points you accrue, not the artistic merit behind the shapes you throw.

For teams with European commitments, the schedule has been heavy in the last few weeks - this was City's fifth game in 15 days and you can't blame a side for flagging.

Even Chelsea, whose fixtures have not been so congested this month, have had a long, injury-afflicted season of it. Roman Abramovich was spotted high-tenning (billionaires don't high-five) his pals when David Luiz scored Chelsea's first goal.

You can assume that he was celebrating his team's tenacity rather than their verve. Chelsea's three points vaulted them into third place; they may not be fully back in the hunt for the title but they are flirting with a strong finish to the season.

I say 'assume' in relation to Abramovich because that's all you can do. The Chelsea owner's mind is as unapproachable as God's, if apparently somewhat less benevolent. This month Ancelotti has marched his side into the quarter-finals of the Champions League, beaten the League leaders 2-1 and demonstrated an almost heartbreaking pliability in tearing up his teamsheet and system to accommodate Abramovich's £50million gewgaw, Fernando Torres. And yet the club's owner has let it be known via the chief executive Ron Gourlay that Ancelotti's position is up for review at the end of the season.

"Carlo is a world-class coach," said Gourlay yesterday, which translates out of suit-speak to: "Carlo would make a great coach for any number of other teams, who are all welcome to him, frankly."

Asked whether Ancelotti would still be guarding the Chelsea dugout, modelling that swanky black trenchcoat and babysitting his batch of angry Chelsea strikers in August, Gourlay was even less reassuring.

"Carlo has a contract until end of 2012," he said. "Let's see where we are at the end of May then we'll judge the coach and other people."

What's that creaking noise you hear? Yes folks, that's a bloke with a black bag concealing his face, having a tug on the stiff lever that controls the trapdoor under yet another Chelsea manager's feet.

Yesterday's victory over City has virtually assured Chelsea of a Champions League place next season. However, if that nice big Champions League pot doesn't end up on an open-topped bus trundling down Horstensia Road at the end of May, you can be quite sure of this: poor old Carlo won't be around to oversee another run at it in the 2011/12 season.

Is that fair? Not really. But Ancelotti, having done plenty of time under Silvio Berlusconi at AC Milan, is used to working for demanding control freaks.

The Italian knows the deal. You win well, you win ugly, you win trophies, you bag Champions League places, and what do you get? A hot serving of The Boot, if the man wants it like that.

There's no good arguing the toss. You may as well howl at the big, oversized supermoon.

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