The night of great discontent at the Bernabéu, after Real Madrid lost the League at the Camp Nou, after the fight between Tchouameni and Valverde, and Florentino Pérez’s explosion of anger in the press room with which he opened; That sad night in which they received a recently relegated Real Oviedo, reached the climax that summarizes the feeling of the end of the world when Kylian Mbappé, the highest paid footballer, the one who had been the most desired, entered the field after an hour under a deafening whistle. The Frenchman left and Gonzalo left, the youth player who had cleared up with his goal the doubts that were beginning to arise as to whether they would no longer even be able to beat a team already in the Second Division. They achieved it with that goal and with another from Bellingham near the end. But they did not dilute the general feeling of helplessness and disappointment.
2
Thibaut Courtois, Trent Alexander-Arnold (Dani Carvajal, 63), Raul Asensio, Alvaro Carreras, David Alaba, Aurelien Tchouaméni (Jude Bellingham, 63), Brahim Diaz (César Palacios, 76), Eduardo Camavinga, Franco Mastantuono (Daniel Yanez, min). 76), Vinicius Jr. and Gonzalo Garcia (Kylian Mbappe, min. 68)
0
Aarón Escandell, Eric Bailly, Nacho Vidal (Lucas Ahijado, min. 78), Rahim Alhassane, David Costas, Alberto Reina, Santiago Colombatto, Nicolás Fonseca (Pablo Agudín, min. 78), Ilyas Chaira (Santi Cazorla, min. 54), Thiago Fernández (Haissem Hassan, min. 68) and Federico Viñas
Goals
1-0 min. 43: Gonzalo . 2-0 min. 79: Bellingham
Not even nine months have passed since Madrid and Oviedo met for the first time at the end of August at the Tartiere, but it seemed that one world had replaced another. And it was much sadder. In that long-ago summer, Oviedo vibrated with the pure and overflowing excitement of returning to Primera after almost a quarter of a century of regrets. They were back and the enjoyment was dazzling. In that remote summer, Madrid also began life with Xabi Alonso at the controls and Vinicius on the bench. It started on the left that night. They began something uncertain that pointed to solid control. Vinicius’ discontents also began.
And here they were again, not even nine months later, and everything that could have gone right had gone completely wrong. They showed up at the Bernabéu just after certifying that they had been left with nothing. One with an empty title bag, the other already getting used to the idea of returning to live in Second. Oviedo said goodbye to the Bernabéu for another era, who knows how long. Neither Xabi nor Paunovic, August’s coaches, were there to see him. Neither did Luis Carrión, who replaced the Serbian when the Asturians were still out of relegation.
It seemed like centuries had passed. In Madrid, time accelerated even more with Florentino Pérez’s unforgettable press conference, the call for elections and the first signs that the president had an incipient opponent, businessman Enrique Riquelme, who flew from Mexico, where he has business, to attend the game.
There were many who seemed to be saying goodbye to something, under the discontent of the public: whistles at Mbappé and Vinicius from the presentation, fleeting banners against the president and growing murmurs. Oviedo saw their achievement evaporate, Cazorla set foot in the Bernabéu for the last time and Carvajal perhaps for the penultimate time. They both started on the bench and felt affection when they appeared on the sideline to warm up. The general ovation for Cazorla was one of the few happy moments of a melancholic performance. Like the one Carvajal received a few minutes later.
Oviedo, the one that had already lost the most, took it with more enthusiasm than Madrid, a group tired of itself and what still remains. Almada’s team appeared in the capital as if it did not bring unfathomable disappointment. They had little taste of the ball, but they administered it with intensity and sense, organized at the start around Reina and Colombatto and then accelerated by Thiago and Ilyas. Thus they stepped into Courtois’s area with vertigo, although Nacho Vidal failed to score. Neither in the first nor in the second part.
The rest of the time, Madrid’s poise prevailed, enough to control matches even in these events in which they exhibit that kind of listless hierarchy of theirs. Tchoaumeni and Camavinga played and played, situated in the center of a strikingly static choreography. As on Sunday at the Camp Nou, when the League was going away, Brahim barely rebelled, who lives at a different speed and dribbles like a skater, always moving forward. Vinicius could not find the tuning point, he did not flow, he did not escape, and he continued to accumulate timid whistles in each intervention.
Like Brahim, Gonzalo also managed to preserve his world. In August he came from being top scorer in the Club World Cup and since then he almost disappeared, thrown away in the pantry. But he received a ball in the area, turned and hit the net: perhaps the only complete smile on the sad night at the Bernabéu. Bellingham scored, but rather than celebrating he seemed to ask for forgiveness. And so Madrid won against an Oviedo that has already left, waiting for this to end so that it can start all over again.
