Antonio Conte began the afternoon in highly animated mode and, for a while, turned almost hysterically agitated in his technical area before his body language finally morphed into sulky acceptance.
As the clock ticked down Chelsea’s manager became increasingly static as he stood arms folded, expression disconsolate, on the touchline. Maybe his players were saving themselves for the FA Cup final but they never looked remotely like a side who kicked off harbouring outside hopes of a top‑four place.
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