Chelsea 3
Liverpool 2
AET: 1-1 after 90 mins. Chelsea win 4-3 on aggregate

No one could have had a clearer perspective than Avram Grant, on the night before he was to visit Auschwitz, nor Frank Lampard, less than 48 hours before the funeral of his mother, that this had only been a game of football.

Yet as a manager slumped to his knees and a player pointed to the heavens, who could fail to see the power of this mere game to inspire the most extraordinary emotional release?

For a man slowly being taken to the bosom of supporters and for one who's always been in their hearts, nothing could have been more uplifting than steering Chelsea to their historic date with destiny in Moscow.

When they locked in embrace in the rain, both close to tears, you could only be moved by the valour and resilience they'd demonstrated in their differing ways.

Lampard, in his most harrowing week following the death of Pat, departed along the side of the pitch afterwards, head down and keeping his thoughts to himself. He'd done all his talking out there; the superlative passing and midfield generalship all culminating in the nerveless extra-time penalty conversion which prompted him to rip off his armband, kiss it and gaze skywards. His whole night's work was one eloquent two-hour tribute to mum.

Lampard's team-mates were awed. "I can't really put it into words what he did tonight," said Joe Cole. "I've known Frank a long time but I don't think he gets enough plaudits - he's a great player but, more, he's a great man."

To Didier Drogba, it was simple; his two-goal riposte to Rafael Benitez's misguided wind-up about diving may have made him Chelsea's knee-sliding avenger but he could only see Lampard as the night's true hero. "Only Frank could have taken that penalty," he said.

Petr Cech felt that Lampard's "brave" decision to play was rewarded by the "psychological boost" which his goal must have given him. "It was the best way to honour his mum," said the keeper. "She would have loved to see him in the final and that's why I think he decided to play." Just as the night before at Old Trafford, another model midfielder and pass master had gone about his business with quiet excellence.

Unlike Paul Scholes, Lampard didn't have his manager purring afterwards about him being the first name on the teamsheet for Moscow but we can take that as read. Up in the stands, Frank's dad, with Pat's seat poignantly left empty beside him, can only have felt the utmost pride, understanding how, like Scholes, his boy represents the heartbeat of his club. His efforts last night must have inspired everyone, from the unreal Duracell-powered Michael Essien to even previously unsung bit-part performers like Florent Malouda, who was an outstanding substitute.

And what was obvious in a way not previously witnessed is how Grant himself is now embraced, too, at the heart of the team ethos.

One by one, his players hugged him and a lesser individual could have stormed into the press conference afterwards, sneered at all those critics - including your correspondent - who had previously questioned his abilities and told them all to take a flying jump. He didn't. He was dignified and humble. "It's not about me," he said and you could not help think of his predecessor because, of course, it was always all about Jose.

On Holocaust Day in Israel, reflecting on the horrors visited on his family, and the day before he was to make a commemoration speech at Auschwitz, Grant's thoughts were a long way from old, petty footballing squabbles. For the first time, he allowed himself a proper bow, turning to salute all four sides of the ground, and you could only think "good for you".

Later, I watched him being cheered by fans and asked to pose for photos as one bloke shouted at him: "Where's the Special One now?" Where indeed? Probably still trying to convince himself that he never had the luck with Champions League draws which 'Average' Grant has had. Yet it would be churlish now not to recognise his achievement. If nothing else, it surely can't be argued that he hasn't been a successful guardian of a rare team spirit.

Yet where was Roman Abramovich, Grant's biggest fan, on a night when he might have been expected to show everyone that he wasn't a bad judge of a manager after all? There was a time when not even a stampede of wild Cossack horses, let alone "political business" with Vladimir Putin, could have kept him away from a night at the Bridge when his £600million dream of conquering the football world in his own backyard was so close to being realised.

At midnight in Moscow on 21 May, presuming Chelsea/United doesn't stink out the Luzhniki Stadium like it did Wembley last year, we may yet see Roman's love affair being very publicly rekindled among the 250 Chelsea staff he's apparently flying out there for £250,000.

Still, as last night illustrated again, Abramovich's money isn't, and never has been, everything. Like the heart and spirit of Frank Lampard, some things are beyond price.