Inside the entrance to Chelsea’s training ground there is a framed photograph, going back to the evening of 19 May 2012, of the G8 summit at Camp David as the world’s leaders interrupted their talks on Syria, at the request of Angela Merkel, to gather round a television in the Laurel Lodge because she had just been told the Champions League final had gone to a penalty shootout.
It is the kind of photo one imagines would take pride of place in José Mourinho’s office, along with the two life-sized cardboard cutouts of himself, the Mourinho dolls, the Mourinho library and everything else that gives it the feel of a personal shrine. David Cameron’s sleeves are rolled up and his arms are in the air. Barack Obama’s mouth is open, his eyes filled with wonder. To his left, Merkel is on her feet, gripping the brown leather seat in front of her. Didier Drogba has just rolled the decisive penalty into Bayern Munich’s net and, in that precise moment, rumour has it Germany’s chancellor was heard to say “scheisse” under her breath.
If ever a Champions League was won by a team’s sense of togetherness, that was the one. Chelsea were famed for it. They knew sometimes they might not have the same skill as their opponents but they made up for it with brotherly spirit. They dug in. And when Mourinho was honoured at a dinner at the Savoy a couple of years ago, Frank Lampard, the guest speaker, mentioned that night. “That all started from him,” Lampard said. “He might not have been there, but that spirit came down from him.” Mourinho’s players would do anything for him and he, in turn, did everything for them. That bond seemed impenetrable.
The contrast with Monday’s defeat against Leicester could hardly be starker at a time when Chelsea are a point above the relegation zone and it is increasingly difficult to think that Mourinho can possibly survive much longer. Mourinho, once such a fierce protector of his own, spoke about his team in a way he never has done before. He was the man who coined the phrase about “parking the bus”, Here, he threw his players under one and even ignoring, for one moment, his wild assertion that he had been “betrayed,” his choice of language must have left Roman Abramovich wondering whether the respect between manager and players was still there.
The most relevant question now is how the players react to that kind of allegation because there is plainly a risk here that Mourinho loses what is essential for anyone in his position: the trust of the dressing room.  How must John Terry feel, for instance, after everything he has given for Chelsea to be accused of betraying the manager? Does Kurt Zouma, at an age where there will inevitably be momentary lapses of concentration, deserve accusations of treachery because he lost Vardy for a split-second before the first goal? And what do the players think of Mourinho absolving himself from even the smallest portion of blame?
Mourinho certainly has lost the plot on the evidence of his most recent rant. But more devastatingly, he has also lost the respect of his players and fans.