53 minutes ago, nonotnowjim said:

After the game, Palmer didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. His eyes followed Jackson like a sniper’s scope - calm, patient, lethal. The missed assist, the wasted 3–0 moment, the way Jackson went for glory and missed the target like the donkey brained amateur that he is - Palmer burned it into his memory. Not just as a betrayal, but as proof. Proof that Jackson needed correcting. Palmer would make him pay.

That night, Jackson’s car wouldn’t start. When he popped the bonnet, it exploded in glitter and red paint - his entire windscreen sprayed with the words "PASS THE BALL." He laughed it off at first. Mistake.

He woke up the next morning in a dark room, wrists bound, ankles shackled. The air was damp, metallic. The walls echoed with the faint sound of his missed shot - looped, slowed, distorted into something monstrous. In front of him was a TV, and on it: Palmer.

“You had one job,” Palmer said. “You ignored me. Now you’ll learn the cost of your shell fish ness.”

The chair he was strapped into began to tilt backward. Cold water poured from above - ice water - freezing, relentless. The senegalese sulkers muscles locked up, his breathing shallow. Then, a hatch opened below and rats were released, crawling over his soaked legs, sniffing, scratching. One bit. Palmer’s voice returned: “Pain sharpens judgement. Let’s see what it teaches you.”

When he came to, he was in a different room. Shirtless. On a treadmill. A VR headset strapped to his face. The simulation showed a constant 3v0 breakaway - Palmer wide open - Jackson holding the ball. He was forced to run it again and again, always making the wrong choice. Each time he failed to pass, an electric jolt shot through the handles. His heart pounded. The smell of burnt skin rose. Palmer watched from a perch above. Eating popcorn.

Next came the boots. One was filled with broken glass. The other with boiling deep heat. He had to choose which to wear for a mandatory “light jog” around a treadmill lined with coarse sandpaper. Every step shredded him. Palmer stood at the finish line with a clipboard, saying nothing, nodding.

The worst part wasn’t the pain. It was the silence. No rage. No shouting. Just Palmer, clinically cold. Calculated.

In the final chamber, Jackson found a football placed on a pedestal. A sign above it read: “Last chance. Make the right choice.”
Palmer appeared behind him. He pointed to two mannequins: one dressed as Jackson, the other as Palmer. A gun sat on a table.
“One shot,” Palmer said. “Either forgive yourself, or pass to me.”

Jackson aimed the gun. He paused. Then turned, trembling, and fired into the mannequin of himself.

The lights shut off. The door opened. Palmer smiled.

The next match, Jackson didn’t look up once. The moment Palmer moved, he passed. Even from the halfway line. Even when the goal was open. His face was blank. His legs bandaged. His mind, broken.

Palmer patted his shoulder gently.

“Good lad.”

someone needs counselling....

37 minutes ago, OneTommyLangley said:

someone needs counselling....

I agree, Jackson would really benefit from it.

Edited July 10, 20251 yr by Malcolm9

16 hours ago, dansubrosa said:

Not sure what everybody thinks but I feel like Palmer has gotten to that stage where I’m not even worried if he doesn’t score or assist for a while.

He’s gotten to that stage where he is unquestionably world class and has nothing to prove.

Hopefully that is something he has grasped himself. That is the only thing that matters really. That outburst suggests maybe otherwise. I think he lacks that 'coldness' a bit now that he is not scoring all the time.

But I agree with him having absolutely nothing to prove.

1 hour ago, OneTommyLangley said:

someone needs counselling....

You didn’t like my story? There is a surprise….

11 hours ago, nonotnowjim said:

After the game, Palmer didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. His eyes followed Jackson like a sniper’s scope - calm, patient, lethal. The missed assist, the wasted 3–0 moment, the way Jackson went for glory and missed the target like the donkey brained amateur that he is - Palmer burned it into his memory. Not just as a betrayal, but as proof. Proof that Jackson needed correcting. Palmer would make him pay.

That night, Jackson’s car wouldn’t start. When he popped the bonnet, it exploded in glitter and red paint - his entire windscreen sprayed with the words "PASS THE BALL." He laughed it off at first. Mistake.

He woke up the next morning in a dark room, wrists bound, ankles shackled. The air was damp, metallic. The walls echoed with the faint sound of his missed shot - looped, slowed, distorted into something monstrous. In front of him was a TV, and on it: Palmer.

“You had one job,” Palmer said. “You ignored me. Now you’ll learn the cost of your shell fish ness.”

The chair he was strapped into began to tilt backward. Cold water poured from above - ice water - freezing, relentless. The senegalese sulkers muscles locked up, his breathing shallow. Then, a hatch opened below and rats were released, crawling over his soaked legs, sniffing, scratching. One bit. Palmer’s voice returned: “Pain sharpens judgement. Let’s see what it teaches you.”

When he came to, he was in a different room. Shirtless. On a treadmill. A VR headset strapped to his face. The simulation showed a constant 3v0 breakaway - Palmer wide open - Jackson holding the ball. He was forced to run it again and again, always making the wrong choice. Each time he failed to pass, an electric jolt shot through the handles. His heart pounded. The smell of burnt skin rose. Palmer watched from a perch above. Eating popcorn.

Next came the boots. One was filled with broken glass. The other with boiling deep heat. He had to choose which to wear for a mandatory “light jog” around a treadmill lined with coarse sandpaper. Every step shredded him. Palmer stood at the finish line with a clipboard, saying nothing, nodding.

The worst part wasn’t the pain. It was the silence. No rage. No shouting. Just Palmer, clinically cold. Calculated.

In the final chamber, Jackson found a football placed on a pedestal. A sign above it read: “Last chance. Make the right choice.”
Palmer appeared behind him. He pointed to two mannequins: one dressed as Jackson, the other as Palmer. A gun sat on a table.
“One shot,” Palmer said. “Either forgive yourself, or pass to me.”

Jackson aimed the gun. He paused. Then turned, trembling, and fired into the mannequin of himself.

The lights shut off. The door opened. Palmer smiled.

The next match, Jackson didn’t look up once. The moment Palmer moved, he passed. Even from the halfway line. Even when the goal was open. His face was blank. His legs bandaged. His mind, broken.

Palmer patted his shoulder gently.

“Good lad.”

Just a mental illness at this point, pray your son never finds your digital foot print.

21 minutes ago, Ukraine Bolt said:

Just a mental illness at this point, pray your son never finds your digital foot print.

You didn’t like my story? There is a surprise….

1 minute ago, nonotnowjim said:

You didn’t like my story? There is a surprise….

Can you surprise us all and become a good poster again

Big game player. What a performance. The goals were Palmer all over. But the work rate and effort for the team - immense. Get some rest boy - even bigger days ahead.

And people were calling him a big game bottler 😆

1 minute ago, Scott Harris said:

And people were calling him a big game bottler 😆

Which is insane.

He's the best big game player I've seen since drogba.

All started when he scored the winner against us in the fa youth cup final

Edited July 13, 20251 yr by bisright1

Controversial opinion perhaps, but I think he's pretty good.

19 minutes ago, Zeta said:

Controversial opinion perhaps, but I think he's pretty good.

Very controversial 🤣🤣

Palmer is playing off the right and being brilliant again shocker. Let’s hope the manager doesn’t forget & stick him back as a 10 after a few weeks off!

2 minutes ago, Munkunku said:

Palmer is playing off the right and being brilliant again shocker. Let’s hope the manager doesn’t forget & stick him back as a 10 after a few weeks off!

Yeah I think Cole (like all players really) is at his best when he has talented players around him to take attention off him and give him space

1 hour ago, Scott Harris said:

And people were calling him a big game bottler 😆

He's the best Drogba successor. Big game DNA

56 minutes ago, Qaz said:

Yeah I think Cole (like all players really) is at his best when he has talented players around him to take attention off him and give him space

Agree with this, and tend to think Neto, Estevao (on the right), and Gittens (plus other, on the left) likely dictate Cole will play central. But as you say, better players around Cole, and it all becomes pretty fluid anyway.

🤣

Best thing of this king is that his celebration will be iconic. It's easy to do and it'll inspire tons of young footballers to become Chelsea fans

May he continue his success with us until he retires 💪💪💪 up the Chels!

Nice to see him shut up the vocal minority of Arsenal fans that claim he "doesn't show up in big games", which is obviously contrary to fact and based on a handful of performances where Palmer has played against them on one leg or while sick. Or, the most obvious reason, that Arsenal don't count as a 'big game'...

I noticed something weird about his finishing today aided by the unnecessary camera angles. When Palmer finishes with placement he shoots with the inside of his heel, same as his goal vs Spain at the Euros. Went back and watched all his goals to date and it's amazing how incredibly accurate he is with a technique that most players only use when they're off-balance and one that is exceptionally hard to get lift/bounce from. The vast majority of his goals are placed shots almost from the back of his left heel, totally different to say Bukayo Saka or Mohamed Salah who tend to finish with the classical in-step technique.

However, on a whim I found this Reddit video of poor form from a few months ago and couldn't help but notice that he was trying to shoot more with his in-step. It seems like he only uses the usual instep technique when he needs to shoot with power. It could be coaching or self-censoring ('back to basics' approach when out of form) or it could be a sign that all was not flowing freely mentally.

I also imagine that the split-second difference between finishing with the in-step vs the back of the heel might un-sight or unsettle a lot of goalkeepers and it almost always allows him to shoot in tight spaces.

8 hours ago, Scott Harris said:

And people were calling him a big game bottler 😆

Who said that, I can't recall reading that?

6 hours ago, Scott Harris said:

🤣

Cucurella's laugh gets me every time 🤣

46 minutes ago, Valerie said:

Who said that, I can't recall reading that?

A bunch of silly fools on Twatter.