Chelsea Win the War of Attrition But Totti Provides the Vignettes

Along the Fulham Broadway touts pitched for scraps and spares only to be met with shrugs and blank faces. The stench of vinegary ketchup hung in the air. The atmosphere cackled with chants that went back and forth and back again. In short we had something at Stamford Bridge tonight that you rarely get in Champions League matches in October: a properly feisty atmosphere. Sadly the game never lived up to it.

For the most part Chelsea plodded and probed, while Roma stuck 10 behind the ball. Having hemorrhaged four goals against Inter at the weekend, it was perhaps unsurprising that they wanted to stop the bleeding. However, Chelsea made it too easy for them. They rarely pushed their full-backs on or forced Doni into anything other than pantomime saves. But 13 minutes from time John Terry – aided by Juliano Beletti's crafty block on Philippe Mexes – headed home Frank Lampard's corner to give Chelsea the goal their pressure probably deserved. Neutrals, however, were mostly left looking for vignettes; good performances from the leading actors in a humdrum film.

For the first half, at least, Francesco Totti – perhaps football's ultimate Marmite test – caught this observer's eye. You might say that he cheats, he spits, he tumbles at the slightest opportunity and he can choke in the big games. And you might well have a point. But having watched him in the flesh nearly a dozen or so times, I'm a believer. His goals record, better than one every other game, is impressive enough. But what really catches the eye is his movement off the ball: how often he drops and drifts to find space, presents himself, and then – with one touch – finds a team-mate. With a moment of genius he created Roma's only real chance of the game, turning his marker, before nutmegging Mikel John Obi and rolling it to Matteo Brighi, whose shot was deflected wide.

But while Roma sat back, Chelsea weren't in any hurry to force the issue. It was a mystery that Jose Bosingwa didn't charge down the flanks more often, or that Nicolas Anelka looked even more isolated and forlorn than usual. However, Mikel John Obi, who now gives the ball away far less than he used to certainly impressed, along with Frank Lampard, as always better in the blue of Chelsea than the red and white of England.

But my abiding memory is of those forlorn-looking touts without a ticket to sell. The global economy has been given the kiss of life so many times in recent weeks, that it sometimes feels that we are all blind men on top of a roller coaster: watching, waiting, expecting an almighty plunge into the abyss. There was no sense of that tonight at Stamford Bridge as the richest club in world football closed in on a place in the knockout stages.