Some games do not need big excuses to care about football, and then there are the games that remind you why you love this game, with all its contradictions and open wounds. This UEFA Conference League final is one of those. It’s not the Champions, but the match is at its height, a duel of giants who have tattooed on their skin a need that goes beyond the trophy.
On the one hand, Real Betis, a club born among the noise of the south, has for centuries embraced its people and a motto almost a religion: “Viva er Beti, manque order”. It is a love that does not understand results and burns stronger in defeat because he knows that glory is not always measured in titles but in loyalty that resists storms. Pellegrini, old fox, has given you not only a team but an identity that moves between the elegance of Isco and the fury of Antony, a team that has come here with the pride of who knows this final is a gift and an obligation.
On the other side is Chelsea, a giant who seems to have been born with the vertigo of money, who does not know how to lose and never wants to do so. A club with a budget to buy cities and build templates that look like they were taken from a video game. But greatness has a price, and demand does not know of pauses. Chelsea arrives with the need to claim her name, to show that her power is financial and footballing. Under the command of Maresca, they charted a solid path, a defence of the hierarchy that had played out in Europe.
Two worlds collide in Wrocław. Two ways of understanding football and two kinds of love for the ball. And there, in that collision, lies the magic because this match will not only be a duel of clubs but also a duel of souls.
- Chelsea: The Giants in the Minors
Under Enzo Maresca, Chelsea stumbled through the domestic chaos of the Premier League to finally finish fourth—enough to return to the Champions League but not nearly enough to soothe the wounds of a season that cost them more in pride than in pounds.The Conference League, a competition designed as a playground for the rest of Europe’s hopefuls, became a curious sanctuary for the Blues. What began as an obligation slowly turned into a mission. And now, at the gates of silverware, it becomes a statement.
“It’s not about winning this for myself,” said Maresca, a man often mistaken for cold when he burns quietly. “I’m doing it for the club, for the fans. For the players who, despite being the youngest squad in Premier League history, have become men.”
This Chelsea is a strange cocktail. The money’s there—endless, shameless. But the identity? That’s still in construction. The project has swallowed managers and criticism, and now Maresca finds himself one game from vindication with his meticulous tactics and sudden outbursts. He will line up his team with Nicolas Jackson leading the line and Cole Palmer—perhaps the season’s revelation—floating between midfield and destiny. Reece James, the captain, returns as the muscle and memory of Stamford Bridge, while Enzo Fernández and Moisés Caicedo form the kind of midfield partnership that would make any accountant faint.
They’ve waltzed through the competition, brushing aside Legia, Copenhagen, and Djurgården with the ease of a billionaire buying bread. But finals are not spreadsheets.
Finals are breathless, chaotic, and cruel. And across from them stands a team that knows all about fighting from underneath.
- Real Betis: The Poets in Boots
If Chelsea is the empire, Betis are the Republic of Dreams. Manuel Pellegrini, a philosopher in a coach’s skin, brings his team to Poland with more illusion than strategy. Not because he lacks the latter but because the former is what sustains his football.
“It’s our first final in Europe,” he said. “We’re living it with joy. And joy is a dangerous weapon.”
Betis is a team that doesn’t hide what it is. They’re not ashamed of their limitations. They embrace them and turn them into virtues. Their 4-2-3-1 formation is more than numbers—it’s a promise—a promise to attack, dance, defy gravity and budget.
Antony is on one side, and Abde Ezzalzouli is on the other. Both wingers thrive in chaos and open spaces. Behind them, Isco, reborn like a verse rewritten after years of forgettable prose, plays not just for the team but for redemption. “What does Chelsea have that we don’t?” he was asked. “Money,” he answered. “But we have belief.”
And belief is what makes Betis dangerous.
They’ve survived battles to get here—Gent, Vitória, Jagiellonia, Fiorentina—and arrived as finalists and pilgrims. Each player, from Bartra to Isco, speaks of family and legacy. They’re writing history with every stride, and that kind of motivation is priceless. Pellegrini jokes about having “eleven doubts” about his lineup. He won’t admit it, but uncertainty is part of his plan: keeping the opponent guessing and his players hungry.
HEAD-TO-HEAD
- NOV 2005 CHAMPIONS LEAGUE Real Betis 1-0 Chelsea
- OCT 2005 CHAMPIONS LEAGUE Chelsea 4-0 Real Betis
- MAR 1998 CUP WINNERS CUP Chelsea 3-1 Real Betis
- MAR 1998 CUP WINNERS CUP Real Betis 1-2 Chelsea