ome of the Chelsea players sat watching the Anfield Champions League quarter-final last week as intently as anyone else, and were almost gleeful at the end. That wasn’t anything to do with Liverpool. It was because some had never played Real Madrid in a competitive game before. The club had never drawn Real Madrid in the competition before.
That is one of the curiosities of the modern Champions League, given both are almost ever-presents, but also one of its beauties.
It still has that energising unpredictability, that element of chance that charges the significance of any game. There’s that sense that it finally falls on you, a moment in time.
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