God, what a night at the Bridge! I was honestly expecting us to roll over and let Liverpool have their victory lap after that awkward guard of honour (which our fans booed mercilessly, by the way). But something felt different from the first whistle.

The atmosphere was electric. Seriously. I haven't felt Stamford Bridge buzz like that since... probably that Champions League semi against Madrid back in 2021. Remember that one? When Tuchel was still the messiah and not just another entry in our revolving door of managers.

Three Minutes In and My Jaw Hit the Floor

Enzo Fernandez. That beautiful, beautiful man. THREE minutes on the clock and he's tucking one away like he's been scoring for fun all season. The Argentinian maestro made it look effortless, and suddenly Liverpool—the team that's been steamrolling the league—looked shellshocked.

I nearly spilled my overpriced beer (£7.50 for a plastic cup of mediocre lager, thanks very much) celebrating that one.

Were Liverpool Hungover or What?

Listen. I get it. They've just won teh league. There were probably celebrations all week. Arne Slot's men looked like they'd rather be anywhere else for stretches of this match.

Mo Salah was practically invisible against his former club. My mate Dave texted me at halftime: "Is Salah even playing? Thought he was rested." Brutal.

And then came the second goal. Poor Quansah. That's the kind of own goal that keeps defenders up at night.

The Moment We All Feared

When van Dijk rose highest to power home that header late on, I swear every Chelsea fan had the same thought: "Here we go again." We've blown so many leads this season I've lost count.

The Dutchman celebrated like they were about to mount one of those famous Liverpool comebacks. My stomach dropped.

I turned to the guy next to me and said, "If we bottle this, I'm not coming back until next season."

Palmer Ends His Drought (Finally!)

Thank god for Cole Palmer. The kid has been carrying us all season, but he'd gone quiet in front of goal recently. When the ref pointed to the spot, there was never any doubt who was taking it.

Cool as you like.

Palmer slotted it home and you could see the relief wash over him. His teammates mobbed him like they'd just won a cup final. That's what it means when you're fighting for Champions League spots after the rollercoaster season we've had.

What This Means for the Top Four Scramble

I've spent about $300 on tickets to matches this season (not including the small fortune on trains from Manchester where I've been working), and this might be the first time I've felt it was money well spent. This win puts us right back in the mix for Champions League qualification.

Three massive points against the champions. Who would've thought? Certainly not the bookies—I checked the odds yesterday and we were clear underdogs at 3/1.

My Liverpool-supporting boss is going to be unbearable tomorrow... or maybe unusually quiet. Either way, I'm wearing my Chelsea tie to the office. Some things are worth the potential HR complaint.

The Guard of Honour That Wasn't

Oh, and about that guard of honour... our fans made their feelings crystal clear with a chorus of boos. It was awkward, it was petty, and... I kinda loved it? That's football rivalry at its most raw.

Van Dijk's face during it was absolutely priceless—somewhere between confusion and annoyance. Classic.

Maybe this is the spark we needed. Maybe, just maybe, we're finally finding our identity under yet another manager. Or perhaps I'm getting carried away after one good result.

Whatever. Tonight, I'm celebrating. Tomorrow, I'll go back to complaining about our inconsistency.