A gray Madrid and two geniuses

Celta’s first twenty minutes were brilliant. Brave in getting the ball out in the face of Madrid’s high pressure and incisive in transitions. He did not take the lead because Courtois has longer legs than Inspector Gadget and has made miracles his daily bread. In the 8th minute, Swedberg ran vertically towards the Belgian from the center of the field, without any opposition, in an inexplicable Madrid defensive hole. When he reached the area, his cross shot was sent into the corner by Thibaut’s left boot studs. It’s time to add the stop to the documentary.

Ancelotti placed a defense of three, with Tchouaméni between Militao and Rudiger, with Lucas and Fran García as wingers and Bellingham pulled to the right. Until Mbappé’s great goal, that was more chaos than tactical genius. The game is still very far from what is expected of this Madrid, but it adds three by three, does not let Barcelona escape and gains days on the calendar.

What doesn’t seem so far away is a better version of Mbappé. The break suited her so well that the first time she had she put her in the squad. In the 20th minute, Fran Beltrán took a gamble in his own half, giving a pass first when he had Camavinga in front of his nose, and he paid dearly for it. The ball hit the Frenchman’s left foot and fell to Mbappé. Control, turn and right hand from thirty meters. The hit seems easy, and the force applied to it, but that whiplash doesn’t even appear in FIFA. 0-1 and new game.

Celta then understood that the round trip proposed to Madrid was like putting a scorpion and a hamster in a bottle. So he decided to retreat, endure the downpour and, at least, not go into the break at a further disadvantage. Vini made it 0-2 with a header that he sent high and, shortly after, he sucked a ball that was a clear goal pass for Bellingham. The Englishman got a rebound never seen before with his friend. Normal.

Celta’s plan had a reward. Six minutes into the restart, a good combination on the right wing between Bamba and Mingueza ended in a cross from the ex-azulgrana towards Swedberg, just again like in the first half, and in a shot by the Swede that was impossible for Courtois. 1-1 and the right to dream of something else.

Madrid responded immediately to the tying goal, with a goal disallowed to Vinicius in the 52nd minute. Mbappé clearly started offside. And Ancelotti also reacted in time. Double change in ’63, something strange in his usual conservatism when moving the pieces. Modric and Rodrygo on the field, Valverde and Tchouaméni on the bench. And 1-2 in the first time the Croatian played.

Vinicius goal, photocopy of the one he scored in Munich in the first leg of the Champions League semi-finals. There it was Kroos who invented a pass out of nothing. In Vigo the ideologue was Modric, who crossed two lines with a pass into space that the Brazilian completed with a feint against Guaita and a soft shot into the net. 1-2.

It was another isolated play by a Madrid that, with the changes, apart from taking the lead again, returned to 4-2-3-1, but with its usual system this season it did not remedy the tactical mess either. It had to be Courtois again, in the 78th minute, who kept him on his feet, in a new one-on-one match that he took to his pocket. This time, the victim was Bamba.

Douvikas also forgave, in the 92nd, throwing out another face-to-face against Courtois. Celta did not deserve to lose, that is the truth, but this gray Madrid is the Lola Flores of football. It is full of genius.