Madrid blocked by Villarreal

That's the essence of football. Two teams fighting for victory until the final whistle, an ambitious home side and a visiting team that wouldn't give up. It's possible to compete against glittering stars and in a wonderful stadium; you just have to bring together a group of players of the same breed that seem like brothers or cousins, splendid footballers who can interchange positions regularly. Madrid-Villarreal, if you want the abridged version.

When a team visits the Bernabéu it is not enough to play well. Or even very well. It's necessary to prolong the wonder for 90 minutes, and whatever is added on. That is where the difficult surfaces, as Villarreal very well know, and as all those who surrender before that time know. If the end of the match was epic, the introductions were a joy. Marcelino's side showed all the virtues of a well-coached side: team spirit, dynamism, choreography, direct play. It is no secret: the merit of a good coach is bringing the threads together to the extent that the 11 work as one and on the pitch paint a figure that could be made out as a panther or a lion, a fox or a hare; the fauna is rich and diverse.

During their most brilliant spell, Villarreal carved out two chances to score, in the same 11th minute and the same passage of play. Gerard Moreno, 22, tamed a wild ball, placed himself in a one-on-one with Iker Casillas and held off on his shot to move the ball to his left foot. Ach, left-footers. Casillas repelled the shot but he did not smother the danger. Moi Gómez leapt on the rebound and fired goalwards and he would have succeeded had not Dani Carvajal headed the effort clear from under the crossbar.

Villarreal's dominion lasted a further minute. Launched by the left foot of Sergio Marcos (the first intelligent robot was a left foot) Marcelino's side offered a game to Madrid's liking, despite the breathless feeling: run and attack, a high-speed journey between areas. The next consideration arose out of the progressive ascendancy of the home side. Maybe Villarreal were too similar to Madrid, in a smaller size but with the same intent.

Isco and Toni Kroos shouldered the responsibility of changing the panorama, one by controlling the short ball and other the long one. The result was a sustained attack that pushed Villarreal back to where they least like to be, on the edge of their own area.

Madrid's breakthrough did not come until the start of the second half, and it was from the penalty spot. It's nothing dishonourable, to be clear. If penalties had categories, the one committed by Eric Bailly would be considered a double cream sundae, with chocolate syrup, two bananas, and a handful of cherries on top; something like a penalty split. Not content with tugging on Cristiano Ronaldo's shirt, the Ivory Coast international clung to his man in an intimate embrace until the final sweet tumble.

Luciano Vietto came on in the 63rd minute and in the 64th Moreno equalized. Coincidences do not exist. The introduction of the Argentinean breathed new life into Villarreal, as if the school favourite had come to the rescue. The reaction was logical. Vietto is a special player with no trace of that which can define one as unique: he just possesses that innate intelligence when it comes to playing football. Right now, and for a while yet, he will be ruing the slip in front of Casillas that robbed him of a clear chance.

Madrid were finding it hard to score and to build confidence. So they put their foot on the accelerator and Ronaldo appeared. He might have scored from a header, but Sergio Asenjo denied him with a Hollywood save. Carlo Ancelotti made changes, some indecipherable such as bring Isco off for Asier Illarramendi, who was greeted by jeers. But nothing could alter the glorious chaos, or the constant interchange of blows. Jesé missed an open goal, Vietto tripped up on Casillas' wings, Chicharito claimed a penalty... either side could have won and nobody did, except football.

from Últimas noticias | Diario AS http://ift.tt/1E7CwgG

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