The finals are not played, they are won. It is a soccer commandment that is repeated over and over again in litany. And Atlético Nacional, the biggest team in this country – that is indisputable – made the word flesh again. He won the League, sat back on the throne of champions and sewed the 17th star on his green and white shield. There is no other sky so bright in Colombian soccer.
He did it as the great ones do: marking the skin of the trophy with the hot and firm iron of the hierarchy. It is the end of a novel, of heroes, of titans. Minute 90 and 23 seconds marks the stopwatch. Tolima leads 2-0 in the game and the final series is even after the 1-3 of the first game, in Medellín. The tiebreaker by penalty shots seems the only solution.
(Also read: Piqué and Shakira: the hateful nickname for the singer, in the player’s circle)
A blink that cost Tolima the title
But there is a corner in extremis for Nacional. The ball flies with short wings and half height. Goalkeeper Cuesta, from Tolima, blinks and stands still, after Olivera’s hairdo. In a final you can’t blink. Is prohibited. Junior Hernández did not see the ball or how in front of him Jarlan Barrera, one of the little ones from Nacional, headed the title. And it was a goal and it was an explosion and it was a celebration in a stack of men in green one on top of the other and there were jumps and hugs on the bench and it was repressed crying and it’s a 17th star and it’s an Olympic lap after five years without winning and it’s a National holiday.
A vibrant and unexpected outcome for a sensational heart attack movie: Tolima made a great game. In just 35 minutes he equalized the final. From the first second of the game he was the beast in search of his prey showing his fangs, hungry for revenge, for a title, for glory: frontal attack, from the right and the left, from the center, from far and near.
The duel for Tolima was like the bunde, the song of his race made an anthem: live, die… Live with Olivera’s own goal (minute 17, parallel center and poor clearance) and Caicedo’s iron header (minute 35) for 2-0 and with a whole game to win… And die in a single moment, in the 5th minute of the second half, when Cataño in his bad hour throws a penalty and is expelled by the iron on the goalkeeper Mier when he cleared the rebound of his final save. It was the play that changed the course of the match.
Nacional had strength and hierarchy throughout the championship auction. He started losing against Junior in Barranquilla and tied him, he started losing against Junior in Medellín and he beat him, he started losing against Millonarios in Medellín and tied him, he started losing against Tolima in Medellín and he beat him, and now, coming from behind, he scored the last breath title
(In other news: Giovanni Moreno and his promise if Nacional was champion)
And it is a cruel final for Tolima, because he lost it alone: first, with the unexpected mistakes of the Ecuadorian Domínguez, his goalkeeper and stellar signing for this League, he gave away two of Nacional’s goals in Medellín (and if you hurry me, he ate all three!) and last night when Cataño harakiried his team in the double instant nightmare of a missed penalty and expulsion.
In football he has made a career that the best does not win. He is a contradiction. That’s why the Netherlands was better than Germany and Argentina and lost the World Cup finals in ’74 and ’78. Italy didn’t win the World Cup in ’82, because Brazil, who ‘was the best,’ lost it. France was no better than Croatia and is the world champion. A few weeks ago, Real Madrid, the great king of Europe, was said to be worse than Liverpool, PSG and Chelsea. Last night, this Nacional that his technician, Hernán Darío Herrera, defined with the self-confidence of the muleteer, mountaineer and aguardientero of “Hey, A’María! They don’t pay me to play nice”, now it turns out that it is not better than Tolima, not even better than the immediately previous National directed by Alejandro Restrepo and that was not even a finalist.
The finals are not played, they are won. And the best is the one who wins. It’s National Hierarchy! The rest is verse.
Meluk tells him…
Gabriel Meluk
Sports Editor
@MelukLeCuenta
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