Eagles soar in the Polish night

In a match that had all the aesthetic appeal of a damp Tuesday in Croydon for the first forty-five minutes, Crystal Palace decided to actually start playing football after the break. Shakhtar Donetsk, hosting this "home" leg in Poland, welcomed their English guests with the kind of hospitality that usually involves letting the visitor take your best silverware and your spot in the final.

The first half was a masterclass in tactical boredom. A 0-0 scoreline at the interval suggested that both teams had collectively agreed that the Conference League was perhaps a bit too much effort for a Thursday night. Shakhtar looked like they were waiting for a bus that never arrived, while Palace seemed more interested in testing the Polish grass quality than the opposition goalkeeper.

Then, the second half happened. Palace, a team currently floating in the comfortable obscurity of 13th in the Premier League, suddenly remembered they have players who can actually kick a ball into a net. Three times. It was a CLINICAL display of counter-attacking that left the Ukrainian champions-in-waiting looking like they’d forgotten how to defend.

Shakhtar managed a solitary goal to keep the "excitement" alive, but they were mostly busy wondering why they were being dismantled by a team whose biggest recent achievement was successfully keeping Eberechi Eze for another season. It was a TOTAL capitulation in a stadium that deserved better than to witness Shakhtar’s defensive line impersonate a set of traffic cones.

With this 1-3 result, the second leg at Selhurst Park looks about as competitive as a race between a Ferrari and a shopping trolley with a wonky wheel. Palace have one foot, four toes, and probably a couple of fingers in the final. For Shakhtar, it’s a long journey back to reality, having been comprehensively outclassed by a side that usually spends its weekends trying not to lose to Brentford.

THE EAGLES have landed, and they’ve brought a suitcase full of away goals with them. Barring a miracle of biblical proportions in South London, Oliver Glasner can start looking for flights to the final. Shakhtar, meanwhile, can focus on their domestic league, where the opposition is slightly less likely to punish them for being asleep for ninety minutes.