This match was billed by many observers – albeit for emotional as much as tactical reasons – as a meeting of two strikers. In the blue corner Chelsea’s Atletico-facing Fernando Torres. And in the red Atletico’s own Chelsea-facing goal-machine of the moment, Diego Costa.

On the morning of the game the Spanish sports daily AS carried the headline "Ahora Atleti Ahora!" over a picture of Costa in reclining-predator mode, eyes fixed on some distant triumphant horizon. Inside there was a snap of El Nino, now fully grown to Hombre-hood, looking sheepish as he was mobbed at the airport by fans of a club where he remains a genuine local hero. Strikers, farewells, homecomings. Forget for now the innate steely-eyed resolve of both teams. The stage seemed set.

Wall of noise
Enter Jose Mourinho. By half-time a match that had begun to a thrilling wall of noise had already descended into a choppy affair of managed defensive destruction, with the appearance from the bench of a 41-year-old Australian goalkeeper the key talking point and David Luiz, John Terry and Gary Cahill all superbly disciplined in Chelsea's cause.

Mourinho had come here in full-on grouchy mood, intent on driving to distraction the usual scarf-draped furore around the beautifully sweeping Vicente Calderon stadium, a huge open roofless space around which the noise of the Atletico fans bounces back and forth and then out into the Madrid sky. And so Chelsea did.

In the event Costa v Torres was more or less a side show, a business of bullocking around in the spaces between an expertly condensed defence and midfield. Costa lined up as a sole striker in front of Koke, Raul Garcia, Diego, and Torres in a similar lone role in front of the pseudo-attacking trio of Ramires, Willian and Frank Lampard. The Iberian-Brazilian is a genuine central striker, stationing himself between Terry and Cole in the early stages and fighting gamely for high balls.

There was an unfortunate collision after 14 minutes as a combination of David Luiz and Raul Garcia caused Petr Cech to fall awkwardly and eventually leave the field under a red blanket. Enter Schwarzer, at 41 the oldest player ever in the Champions League and playing here in the biggest match of his career.

It was always likely to be a night of graft for Torres, who often seemed to be playing his own separate game of shuttle sprints 20 yards from the nearest team-mate, but who also looked rusty and once or twice controlled the ball with all the elan of a man kicking an empty bucket along a garden path.

With half-time approaching Costa stirred, first drawing a close-range block with a fierce left-foot volley, then stretching an attack to the corner flag and curling in a fine cross.

He is a lovely mover, willing to pull wide and take the ball on the half-turn, and with a sense of coiled menace in his short-stepping run as he tries to find space in the centre.

Oddly nuanced
He is also an oddly nuanced figure, a striker who will lead Spain's attack this summer in his native country.

To their credit Atletico did press Chelsea back repeatedly in the late stages of the second half, creating chances with a series of crosses and drawing one fine save from Schwarzer by his post from a Gabi free kick. To their own credit Chelsea defended with heart and no little skill. And this was a match in the end for the pragmatists, as had always seemed likely really.
Guardian Service