A few weeks ago, on a wet Saturday evening, Chelsea was in the Champions League semi-final against Barcelona. From east to west London, I traveled to Fulham Broadway station, where I met up with my companions in front of the Kona Kai cocktail bar, which was situated in direct opposition to the bustling Stamford Bridge.As soon as we ascended to our perch in the Matthew Harding Stand, squeezing past a few spectators, it dawned on me that I was sitting in a sold-out stadium. In my vicinity, admirers were hoisting blue flags and chanting in support of Emma Hayes and the Chelsea team that she had meticulously assembled. That was the moment in time when I realized her influence in its entirety.