Welcome to the new world order of the Premier League with Marc Cucurella at center stage | Chelsea

After 61 minutes Tottenham Hotspur Stadium, as Cole Palmer buried his first penalty kick of the game to make the score 2-2, Marc Cucurella could be seen violently hitting his head with both hands near the left touchline, his curls flying cinematically, like a Adorable dog in a floor detergent advertisement.

When Palmer scored his sublime corner against Southampton last week, Cucurella clenched his fists and howled, thrusting his hips pomp-rock style. Palmer clearly has a visceral effect on him. And the afternoon belonged to the two of us here present, 4-3 victory in the London derby dominated by the two qualities that distinguish Enzo Maresca's team (although he, of course, denies it) as genuine contenders for the title.

The most obvious thing is that Palmer provides the craft. Mohamed Salah remains the most effective creative player in the league. But Palmer really is something more, a mobile brain, entirely sui generis in his ability to observe, learn and invent the game in front of him. Here he seemed to be decoding Spurs as the first half progressed, finding weak spots, deciding where to stand, where to start his passing sequences.

What Cucurella offers is spirit. This is a footballer with a hilarious degree of Main character energy. As he wandered around the midfield in the second half because, yes, why not, you felt like Cucurella should basically be playing everywhere all the time, passing to other Cucurellas, egging on opposing Cucurellas, and walking away arm in arm with his Cucurella counterpart to the end.

Chelsea is a happy pirate ship these days, a bunch of billion-dollar desperates headed toward the lights, but all running in the same direction right now. Sports can often be that simple. For all the talk of DNA and philosophical mumbo-jumbo, football is basically feelings, energy, colors, a design illusion created by winning.

Chelsea are now second in the league. It's not a stretch to suggest they could win it this season. There is a new world order out there. Manchester City seems terrified of its own shadows. Old certainties are crumbling. David Hasselhoff is on top of that concrete wall, with his gavel raised. Chelsea arguably have the best team in the league. There seems to be a key advantage to splurging big amounts on quality young players. You end up with a lot of quality young players.

They also have the winning energy of Cucurella. He is a very funny footballer in many ways, from his resemblance to a Renaissance fresco depiction of a mischievous fruit seller, to his running style, a kind of power swagger that is both convincing and relentlessly theatrical.

At times the first half here was Total Cucurellaon a day that began with not one but two slips that directly led to Chelsea losing 2-0. There are few things in any sport more vital and more invigorating than someone falling. Cucurella falling? This is box office.

Slip number 1 occurred five minutes later, Cucurella's foot gave way, leaving him completely lying on the grass. Brennan Johnson took the ball, crossed low and Dominic Solanke finished expertly. A few minutes later the same thing happened. Cucurella fell, Dejan Kulusevski carried the ball forward and scored.

Cucurella's response was brilliantly defiant. Crushed? Me? Not really. Instead, he crossed the touchline, took off his boots in a fright, returned and provided the assist to make it 2-1.

In reality, it was just an inside pass to Jadon Sancho, who produced one of those sequences where the game suddenly seems too small, too easy, finding so much space and time amidst that noise and heat by just dropping a shoulder. . Sancho isn't very fast, but he has a deceptive hyperspeed mode, a Millennium Falcon gear where the air seems to open up around him. From there, the ball went to the far corner.

At that time, 2-1 down away from home, Chelsea always won this game. North London had been in the grip of the national weather norovirus all afternoon, buffeted by face-scraping wind that somehow seems to come from all directions, on one of those days when this really feels like a narrow island in a hostile sea.

This was a chaotic game for long periods, not unlike one of those traditional Derbyshire free-for-alls, where people spend three hours outside a pub fighting over a sheep's bladder. But in the end, the Spurs were dragged down by opponents who simply have better players, better options and a wider range of gears.

Palmer scored the key third goal for Enzo Fernandez with a wonderful spinning dribble. In response, Timo Werner came on for Spurs and did a lot of strange things, opening his arms, running very fast and giving loud first touches. It's tempting to suggest that Werner should have become a sprinter. But I probably would have ended up in the triple jump pit.

Cucurella and Palmer ended the game almost won in the 90th minute, Cucurella high-fiving everyone on or even near the Chelsea bench, like a celebrated actor humbly celebrating his own masterpiece. It seemed like a key afternoon for this team. They have as much chance as anyone right now.