Golden Guus is laying the foundations for greatness

Matthew Norman
11 Mar 2009

Although this was by no means a great performance, the potential for greatness was visible in Turin as Chelsea confirmed that the confidence mislaid under Phil Scolari has been relocated.

Yet for all the hints of a lustrous future, this was a performance from the recent past - a classically Mourinhoesque display, in fact, in which the Blues were flatlining at first and used the shock of going a goal behind as the defibrillator paddles to revive them.

It took a while, but even when under the kosh they gave the impression of having a couple of higher gears in reserve. The Juventus side they eventually overcame is not impressive, in truth, taking the "Old Lady" nickname too literally with all the big-name geriatrics.

Pavel Nedved will soon be in the retirement home sucking whatever the Czech equivalent of Werthers Originals might be, and Alessandro del Piero will be joining him before much longer. For all that, Juve started powerfully, with Nedved running the show, and continued to dictate after his early departure.

The goal, when it came, was one of those rapier thrusts through the heart of a defence for which no one can really be blamed, David Trezeguet's half-volleyed pass with his back to goal releasing Vincenzo Iaquinta to out-sprint John Terry and beat Petr Cech with elegant ease. This one belonged to the Argentine World Cup winners of 1978, with Trezeguet playing Ossie Ardiles and Iaquinta as Mario Kempes, and was thoroughly deserved.

For the ensuing 15 minutes Chelsea wobbled on the ropes, and under Scolari would probably have gone down. But the genius of Guus Hiddink (right), even more than his tactical nous, is his ability to infuse players with self-belief, and you always suspected that Chelsea would soak up the punishment, wait for the head to clear, and find a way to impose themselves. So it proved in the final two minutes of an engaging first half.

Whether Didier Drogba's free kick fully crossed the line swiftly became a pointless, academic concern (and thank God it did; we need another debate about the use of goal line technology like Ulrika Jonsson needs another babyfather) thanks to Michael Essien.

What a fantastic all round player this quiet Ghanaian is, and he reminded us of the completeness of his game by reacting like a striker to beat two defenders to the ball after the Frank Lampard's deflected free kick rebounded off the underside of the bar.

Wheeled out for the half-time interview, Ray Wilkins - why on earth does Hiddink retain the dullard as his assistant? if he wants a ventriloquist's dummy, Lord Charles must be available - transparently parroted the Dutchman's dressing room address by railing against the team's inadequacy.

There was no such weakness in the second half as Chelsea manfully set about tranquillising the game to death, and but for Claudio Ranieri's introduction of the lively, creative Sebastian Giovinco after an hour, they'd have done it without sweat.

But the "atomic ant" acted like monkey gland serum injected into the Old Lady's bum. Even reduced to ten men, Juventus briefly looked young again, the late penalty supplying fresh hope. What Juliano Belletti was thinking when he flung up an arm in the box, and what his team-mates imagined they were doing in protesting the penalty, I've no idea.

Redemption came swiftly, and not only for Belletti. He supplied the immaculate first time cross that led to the decisive second equaliser, but Michael Ballack - atrocious until then in both attack and defence - set him up with a deliciously weighted pass, and an otherwise mediocre Didier Drogba finished emphatically.

Chelsea are anything but the finished article. They lack flair, understandably in the absence of Joe Cole, and despite some improvement they remain vulnerable to aerial crosses.

The imminent return of Ricardo Carvalho should sort out the latter problem, while if and when - knowing his record, it's surely when - Hiddink works out how to get Ballack to replicate his imperious Germany form in a blue shirt, this will be a truly formidable side.

Within weeks he has made them highly resilient once again, and the rest is gradually but discernibly falling into place. A glorious future awaits this club. All Roman Abramovich needs do now is finesse Hiddink's compatriot Dick Advocaat into the Russia job (and old Eggnog's already denied the rumour, which is invariably an encouraging sign), handcuff Hiddink to a five-year contract, and leave him alone. Given time and transfer funding, and left in peace to use both as he sees fit, this Guus will lay a 24 carat golden egg.