Under their Italian manager Chelsea have learned how to win with style on and off the field

There were no pouts, no look-at-me gestures, no hurling of medals into the crowds, no mystifying statements complaining, even in the hour of glory, that he had not been given enough personal credit for Chelsea’s achievements. Carlo Ancelotti smiled, hugged, waved and behaved with perfect decorum. Then he asked for a glass of wine. Under him, Chelsea have not only learnt how to win again. They have learnt how to win with class.

A mysterious thing is class, but you could see the change articulated in a slightly less obvious manner a fortnight ago, at half-time during the demolition of Stoke City, when six members of the great 1970 FA Cup-winning side – Charlie Cooke, Alan Hudson, John Hollins, Peter Bonetti, Ron Harris and Tommy Baldwin – were paraded around the pitch to waves of affectionate applause.

This is a club whose previous regime – as Hollins used to relate, drawing an unfavourable comparison with the impeccable courtesy of Arsenal, another of his employers – made a habit of refusing complimentary match tickets to former players. Under Roman Abramovich they may have bought success but they have also bought back into their own history.

It was visible again in another way a few minutes after yesterday’s final whistle. When the victorious first team disappeared into the dressing room to prepare themselves for the presentation of the Premier League trophy, Chelsea’s Under-18 squad took the stage, circling the pitch with the FA Youth Cup, which they captured in midweek, enabling the crowd to relish the sight of some of the players – perhaps Jeffrey Bruma, the Dutchman who brings the ball out of defence as if running on ball-bearings, possibly Josh McEachran, the 17-year-old shadow striker – who may illuminate their afternoons in years to come.

And so the first Italian manager to guide a team to the English championship has fulfilled virtually all the hopes invested in him by Abramovich last summer. The final blitz towards the title – including scorelines of 5-0 at Portsmouth, 7-1 against Aston Villa, 7-0 against Stoke City and now 8-0 against Wigan Athletic – was both emphatic and vastly entertaining, almost spectacular enough to bury the memory of