Madrid has many lives

PreviousLive Chronicle

Madrid lacked everything in Manchester.

But it's Real, so he didn't care.

He has infinite lives, he was on the brink of collapse a few times.

But it is Real and after the lunatic duel with City the people of the Etihad, less familiar, wondered how the 4-3 was possible.

With Real in the middle, because yes.

Jerking made Guardiola's painting still scratch his chin.

MNCM.

City

4

Ederson Moraes, Laporte, Rúben Dias, Zinchenko, John Stones (Fernandinho, min. 35), Rodrigo, Bernardo Silva, De Bruyne, Mahrez, Gabriel Jesus (Sterling, min. 82) and Foden

RMA Real Madrid

3

Courtois, Eder Militao, Dani Carvajal, Alaba (Nacho, min. 45), Ferland Mendy, Federico Valverde, Kroos, Modric (Dani Ceballos, min. 78), Benzema, Vinicius Junior (Marco Asensio, min. 87) and Rodrygo ( Camavinga, minute 69)

Goals

1-0 min.

1: DeBruyne.

2-0 min.

10: Gabriel Jesus.

2-1 min.

32: Benzema.

3-1 min.

52: Foden.

3-2 min.

54: Vinicius Jr.

4-2 min.

73: Bernardo Silva.

4-3 min.

81: Benzema.

Referee

István Kovács

Yellow cards Fernandinho (min. 80) and Nacho (min. 92)

At dawn Real Madrid was already losing 2-0.

Not very solid, Ancelotti's team looked like a group of altar boys.

Goals from De Bruyne and Gabriel Jesus came before the game, with Madrid still in flip-flops.

Mahrez had no arrest in his move towards De Bruyne.

And Alaba was lukewarm before Gabriel Jesus, who turned his back and sent Courtois adrift.

Again, that Royal tightrope walker from this European Cup.

That Madrid that travels on its exclusive Ferris wheel, goes up and down, down and up.

This time, with the defense in thong and punctual in attack.

So confident that their time would come after seeing themselves on the ledge, the Spanish team did not rebel against the 2-0.

No football protest.

Each assault was a local victory.

A boneless Madrid that Mahrez pardoned, who forgot about Foden in a counterattack.

And Foden himself had the 3-0.

A lullaby was enough for City against such an unblunt version of Madrid.

Guardiola's team flowed freely.

Despite the losses of Cancelo and Walker, he entangled his opponent with the position of his wingers —the substitute Zinchenko and the orthopedic Stones— and the constant crossing paths of De Bruyne and Bernardo Silva.

Gabriel Jesus, the closest thing to a battering ram that Guardiola has, took the chain out of the Madrid central defenders with his constant unchecking.

Kroos, Casemiro's replacement, did not pull with a pick and shovel and there was no reel for Modric.

It was a semifinal of the European Cup, but City whistled smoothly.

Just some mess of goalkeeper Ederson and his sentinels when articulating the game —Guardiola's holy grail— gave Real air.

The ability of this Madrid to survive deserves an urgent symposium.

At the Etihad, eleven solitudes at the entrance and later.

Anyone would have capitulated or suffered a considerable shiver.

Not the Real, who has unlimited faith in the Real.

About half an hour later, Ancelotti, stunned, ordered Modric to advance his position, which activated the Croatian.

And with Modric finally plugged in, he asked Benzema to step in.

Moments of calm for Real.

Bad business for City, also knowing that Madrid is Madrid.

No matter how trivial it seems, a pinch is enough for him to emerge when nobody expects him except himself.

It happened once more.

And twice.

First, Modric, who is also a guerrilla, went to a duel with Mahrez with more sleeves.

He won the toss, the first victorious for the outsiders.

The ball reached Mendy and his cross, which was not prodigious, was improved by Benzema with a very difficult shot.

A crumb from Modric, another from Benzema and Real in the fight.

It is Madrid.

So syrupy at the Etihad that his first foul against was called in the 40th minute.

The second act arrived and more of the same, although with Nacho for Alaba.

The Austrian, in the infirmary for the last few days, gave way to his colleague.

Before, Stones also said enough before the break and Guardiola, penalized without laterals, had to improvise Fernandinho.

Another drowsy Real, at the mercy of Mahrez, who after another soft crossing by Militão stood up to Courtois and shot at the Belgian's right post.

The rebound was hunted by Foden and with the door wide open Carvajal snatched the ball.

So fragile was the Spanish team that Fernandinho, who has nothing on the side, beat Vinicius and his placid cross was headed by Foden in the face of Courtois.

Of Vinicius, by the way, there were no lines.

A mirage.

With his squad one finger away from going to the canvas, the Brazilian winger took revenge.

He left his compatriot Fernandinho in the gutter, with a feint from Versailles, and from his own field he put the turbo until he beat Ederson in his nose.

Another life for the brittle Real.

And it was not the last.

The City, which was seen so many times superior, again forced to another rush.

And it came, with a fourth goal, this time a strike by Bernardo Silva before the eyes of more than one madridista who distrusted the law of the advantage granted by the referee.

More of the same.

Another match point against.

It's the Real, remember.

A hand from Laporte led to a penalty for the visitors.

Benzema came from screwing up two in Pamplona.

It is Benzema, who no longer shrinks before anything or anyone.

In case anyone was trembling, the Frenchman scored 4-3 with a Panenka-style carantoña.

Ice blood.

The one from this Madrid, master of the impossible, who was considered dying four times and returned invigorating to the hypnotic Bernabéu.

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