Wolves’ fourth Premier League collision with Chelsea resulted in the same outcome as the previous three.

But this is as close as they have so far managed to get to Roman Abramovich’s lavish west London plaything and that alone should separate it from the previously painful fixtures.

For a start, we didn’t spend the game either totting up the goals – 14 flying past Messrs Oakes, Jones and Hennessey in the two campaigns to date – or wearily resigned to Wolves’ inevitable defeat

Not at all. For a rousing 10 or 15 minutes in the second half especially, a packed Molineux was in full cry and daring to imagine their team at least taking their first point from the impossibly-powerful – “no Lampard? Let’s play this fella’ Ballack instead” -  leaders and title favourites.

There were other indicators of a measure of improvement in this lop-sided meeting of world class all stars and McCarthy’s homespun young and hungry brigade.

Wolves had seven shots on target to Chelsea’s two, 11 attempts on goal in all for the home side compared to the visitors seven. Not bad when you only have 40 per cent of possession to work with.

Boss Mick McCarthy’s instincts were all revealing. “Hard luck, Mick” a well-meaning supporter offered as the manager made his way down the tunnel after the game. But he was too angry to accept this consolation.

Rightly so. His team could and should have got a result out of this game and McCarthy was in no mood to have anyone ruffle his hair, pat him on the back and send him off to continue the slog for survival where it is perceived Wolves belong while Chelsea get ready for Inter Milan, the Champions League, Andy Gray and Martin Tyler. And a few more million for the kitty of course.

We can go on forever like this but the cruel nature of the Premier League is that Wolves were beaten, because of two moments of weakness in their performance and two moments of brilliance in Chelsea’s. Which in turn leads back to the core reality of this division – you get what you pay for.

The fault-lines Chelsea crow-barred open in the 40th minute were those of pure inexperience – an over-eager home side caught short-handed by a counter-attack which gave Yuri Zhirkov, Michael Ballack and finally Didier Drogba the opportunity to display the quality that comes with a wage bill that could put a serious dent in Haiti’s problems.

That was Goal One. Goal Two was unbelievably simple and silly and yet the price paid for switching off, for just a fraction of a second, against players of this calibre.

McCarthy laid a cellective blame at the door of his back four but all a near 29,000 crowd saw was a huge Petr Cech punt and Drogba stealing half a metre on Christophe Berra to run clear, round goalkeeper Marcus Hahnemann and kill the game. The beast that is Drogba had pocketed two goals without, it seemed, otherwise impacting on the game.

Against this killing machine at the top of the pitch, Chelsea are supposed to have been made a shade more vulnerable this season by a decline in keeper Petr Cech’s abilities. Try telling that to Molineux.

The save the goalkeeper made to defy Adlene Guedioura in Wolves’ impressive flurry before that second goal was truly outstanding as well as heart-breaking, although not the only time the Czech was extended – a block on a point-blank chance for Kevin Foley and his first-half, near-post stop from a Kevin Doyle shot were not those of a waning champion.

Hahnemann was positively idle in comparison, another signal of the crazy cruelty of this game for Wolves.

With the last 20 minutes accompanied by the certainty of Chelsea’s victory, it was a tribute to the effort McCarthy’s team put into this challenge that so many fans stayed to see them to the finish line and offer a generous ovation when they got there.

By then, I suspect, many were already casting their thoughts forward to the more telling encounter at Bolton which now approaches – where there is surely reason to hope that this level of performance might be better rewarded.

As McCarthy has contended, Wolves are making chances despite Doyle’s continuing lone patrol even if Foley’s square peg in the round hole of right midfield can’t help but prompt a lament for Michael Kightly’s continued absence.

Not that Foley is letting anyone down, mind. And the exuberance of Guedioura is infectious. Yes, there is a naivete about his game which will surely have McCarthy’s coaching staff reminding the newcomer he doesn’t always have to attempt something special from 30 yards, but it heartens the team to have a player packed with such positive intent every time he claims possession.

It must have been so galling for centre backs Jody Craddock – excellent, absolutely excellent – and Berra to have been breached twice while playing so solidly generally while Doyle, producing one wonderful, twisting run and shot from wide in the first half, continues to play his solo hand superbly.

Another contender for Man of the Match was the South Bank for their ribald but ‘you-couldn’t-help-but-laugh’ taunting of John Terry on his return to the domestic stage.

Unfortunately, it did not deter the deposed England captain from a typically sturdy performance save for the missed-clearance fly-kick which gave Foley the opportunity Cech smothered before Karl Henry lost his footing as he attempted to pounce on the rebound.

In fact, it was difficult to think that Wolves had done too much wrong throughout. Maybe they didn’t quite do enough right – and against Chelsea and Drogba that would prove to be their downfall.