When De Burgos Bengoetxea was going to whistle the break, the Metropolitan was the cabin of the Marx Brothers. Minute 48, consumed three of the seven added and more things could not have happened. Five goals, a missed penalty, two conversions, Atleti ahead first and came back in ten minutes between blows, yellow cards and the red and white fans with the blue pill melting in his mouth. To forget. The Atleti del Cholo that was and is no longer, so fragile, flimsy, so easy to send to the canvas.
And that he had shown his face in the first twenty minutes of a game that began with an ovation for the man on the rival bench. It was Quique, the seed of everything that later grew with Cholo, the infinite. He left his Getafe with the marked path, pointing to the heel that bleeds this Atleti: the tremor in each stopped ball. He looked for it with a free kick at the minute, with a corner at the minute and a half. It was the three and the intensity of Getafe melted an Atleti who was looking to flee from his last photos boosted on the 4-4-2six changes with respect to the Camp Nou and an unprecedented defense.
Because Llorente returned, to the team and to the side. Because it was Felipe who was next to Savic. Because Reinildo was a starter for the first time so that his boots blinded so much exhaust, as they blinded in France. Up, Suarez. A Suárez who looked for Soria’s leg in the area, on a ball filtered by Lemar and found a penalty. Soria’s mitt prevented him from getting on the scoreboard by repelling, masterfully, with the hard glove below, his very tight shot to the post. soccer justice. The madness began.
To one side, uprooted from Ünal. On the other, Koke became the third center-back to get the ball out and leave the full wing to Llorente’s runs. His careers give him depth and meaning, they accompany Correa’s dance like no other, all street, which has filled everything for more than a year. In the 19th minute, he appeared like a shell from behind to finish off a drop shot by Suárez and bring the score to 1-0. Eight minutes later, Cunha celebrated, pushing a cross from Llorente to the far post that Mitrovic was unable to clear. Cholo breathed. The chest swollen from so much air caught in those 27 minutes. 2-0. But Getafe did not accuse him. A Getafe grown on the defensive order and on the attack, on the legs of Ünal towards that marked path: the extreme fragility of Atleti. And Quique was not wrong. Everything achieved in 27 minutes took just over ten to spoil it.
![Shield/Flag Getafe](https://as01.epimg.net/img/comunes/fotos/fichas/equipos/small/172.png)
Mayoral revived the ghosts by finishing off that Jankto volley that went through everyone. Oblak, at first, already defeated. To the second too. Cunha’s hand in the area, the referee’s whistle, Ünal who completely fooled the goalkeeper and tied. At minute 37. At 42, the same movie. Lemar’s hand, VAR review, notice to the referee: it’s inside the area, it’s a penalty. Ünal from the same point again against Oblak. His dry shot was like a bullet to the Metropolitan’s heart. 23. The blue pill to the mouth, the cabin of the Marx brothers and that soccer player again on the scene: because more things could still happen and Correa headed the 3-3 so that, when De Burgos Bengoetexea blew the whistle at the end of the break, the game couldn’t have been crazier. An Atleti-Getafe at halftime with six goals. Two years ago it would have sounded like dystopia.
The second was calmer. Atleti with dominance and intentions until Felipe stuck out his paw. And every time she does, thriller music plays on the Cholo bench. Always fast, always abrupt. Yesterday too. Her kick to Arambarri in the back was like a machete blow. Red. Simeone took shelter while waiting for the rival error. Quique he sat down Mitrovic, he took out more gunpowder (Mata). His team had more men, eleven against ten, control, lacked depth. But when the clock ticked to 90′, the air was filled with electricity. The one that the Metropolitano already breathed against Valencia, with a goal that came from Cholo’s changes, three players on the bench: João Félix forced a ball from De Paul and Hermoso, in an acrobatic shot, introduced the red pill in 49,375 throats . Goal. The Metropolitan on the wing, not even afraid of that next play, the last one, a shot by Maksimovic that grazed the post. But that truth already filled everything. Nobody knows how to win like Atleti. That no team in the world could make it more difficult, more convoluted, more epic, so, so insanely Beautiful.
Changes
Okay Yokuslu (54′, Enes Ünal), Beautiful Mario (59′, Luis Suarez), joao felix (73′, Matheus Cunha), Paul’s (73′, Kondogbia), Vrsaljko (73′, Belt), Bush (75′, Mitrović), Gonzalo Villar (80′, Oscar Rodriguez), Jonathan Silva (80′, Jankto), Hector Herrera (91′, Lemar)
goals
1-0, 19′: strap2-0, 26′: Matheus Cunha2-1, 29′: Foreman2-2, 36′: Enes Unal2-3, 41′: Enes Unal3-3, 48′: strap4-3, 88′: Beautiful Mario
cards
Referee: Ricardo de Burgos Bengoetxea
VAR Referee: José Luis González González
savic (2′, yellow) Lecomte (12′, Yellow) Djene (14′, Yellow) Maksimović (19′, Yellow) Arambarri (21′, Yellow) Koke (44′, Yellow) Luis Suarez (46′, Yellow) Philip Monteiro (57′, Red) Jonathan Silva (94′, Yellow
#crazy #beautiful #Atleti