Chelsea at the 2012 FIFA Club World Cup: A retrospective report

Final versus Corinthians in Yokohama

The teams walk out onto the Yokohama pitch to the music of the official FIFA soundtrack. It is upbeat, hopeful, delightful, familiar and sparks a sense of inclusivity. It is all things FIFA wants you to think of when you think of FIFA.

In the dugouts, Benitez has wrung in the changes. Luiz drops back to defense, Ivanovic shifts to the right, Frank Lampard and Ramires come into midfield and Victor Moses—years away from his wingback renaissance—takes his place on the right of the attacking midfielder trio, in place of Oscar. In the adjacent technical area, Tite instructs his players. Paolo Guerrero—one of those who you could’ve sworn had played for Chelsea during the weird, late 2000s (a la Claudio Pizarro, Ricardo Quaresma, Andriy Shevchenko, etc.)—spearheads the Corinthians attack, supported by Paulinho.

And so it begins.

Corinthians custodian Cassio denies Cahill from point-blank range, it won’t be his last incredible save of the evening either. Minutes later, Paulinho picks up the ball 30 yards from the Chelsea goal and lets one fly. It’s headed for the stars and Cech stands and watches. A preview of what the future held for young Paulinho, who would go on to join Tottenham for a then club-record fee, never quite hitting the target. Luiz then tries to squeeze the ball under the wall from a free-kick, almost a decade before it would be popularized by the set-piece-hipsters, reminding me on my rewatch that nothing in football is new. It’s succeeded by a flurry of concerning defensive lapses from the Blues, unsettling they were then as they are now, for their hopes of winning the final.

Cassio’s second big save of the game is in the 39′. Moses, who started on the right but has since drifted to the left, picks up the ball in the left half-space—a term still two years away from entering the football vernacular at that point—and shoots. He is denied by a fingertip save from Cassio. The match ebbs and flows. Both sides attack and neither takes its chances until Guerrero happens in the 70′. The freeze-frame almost resembles an expensive artwork from a bygone era. Cech is off his line, Cahill is on the floor, three defenders have thrown themselves back to guard the net, the ball hangs in the air. Guerrero leaps and Guerrero scores. It is as it was nine years earlier, a stab through the heart. Painful, but not yet fatal.

The match takes on a familiar face, thereafter. Torres misses a sitter—expected. Cahill sees red—predictable. Torres then scores one but has it chalked off for offside—typical. Fifth minute of stoppage time, Chelsea finds itself chasing a goal with a man fewer. Mata chases down the ball in the opposition box. He stands tall, facing six Corinthians defenders eye-to-eye like a lone warrior. He shoots, he misses. The referee glances at his watch as the knife is being sharpened again.

Just about now, nine years earlier, tears are welling up beneath the eyes of this writer’s younger self. Losses are hard to take, even more so when you’re expected to win (see: FA Cups of 2021, ’20 and ’17). As the final seconds trickle down, I am reminded of this sport’s inherent cruelty once again, but also what makes it thrilling, gratifying and fair is what makes it soul-crushing, unpleasant and unfair. It’s unpredictable, it dispenses joy and misery in equal measure, regardless of status. The referee blows his whistle and he lands the fatal blow. Corinthians has beaten the Champions of Europe in the Club World Cup final. The end.

Why did I think this would be a good exercise anyway?