Ocampos drops Atleti from LaLiga

Madrid is only chased by Sevilla. The Atleti no longer. An Atleti who traveled to Nervión with the ambition to return to the past, to regain his champion status in the match, the right place, to leave as in so many other days in this League: killed in two shots. Suddenly it is so easy to score a goal, to find a crack. The one from Ocampos, in 88 ‘, was Sevilla’s second on goal at night. Rakitic took the corner, Delaney headed off the plate to the crossbar. The reject was flocked by Koundé so that the Argentine, point-blank, would send him to the squad. 2-1. The dead Atleti. Defeat to defeat. For the first time with Cholo, they are three in a row in the League.

And that he appeared in the match with the profile of a champion. Because there, in Nervión, was Lemar, Koke, there Correa and Suárez, the LaLiga forwards. And there was Trippier on the side, back, for Llorente to take a step forward and free himself from the side. But, immediately, Sevilla twisted the gesture: the game was still in the score when Rakitic, with a shoe, exploded the blackboard, and the profile, to Simeone.

The Croatian received a ball from Delaney past the front and looked up at Oblak’s squad. He waited for Koke to pass him, then kicked. He hit him with the instep, hit him with the soul. And the ball flew, powerful, precise, as if pushed by all the Pizjuán, which exploded when it saw how it was stamped on the net, Oblak defeated, with nothing to do. Right hand, great goal. It would take Atleti a long time to recover from the blow. Because he can try, come out with the champion profile, but you scratch a bit and you know: Savic is missing. And, without Savic, Atleti is not that they do not defend, it is that they do open days towards Oblak’s goal. The rival’s first shot and goal. Match by match. As fragile as a soap bubble, so little Atleti. That behind. Ahead was not much better, although all those men who were were the names of LaLiga. They did not connect, they did not meet, the lines cut. The flat, horizontal game, without winning a split ball, without spilling a spark of talent. Lopetegui imposed his law without having to do too much. Control, ball and a lot of Rakitic. But it was there, when nothing happened, that Atleti returned to the game with what they had taken out: a surprise goal.

It was after Lopetegui saw how Montiel raised his arm, another injury for an already full infirmary: Gudelj entered, Koundé to the right side. Felipe put his head into a corner, rising like a colossus to finish off a Lemar center-corner and give his team breath back. And as in the old photos, from set pieces. The board was equalized. Also in the casualties. Now it was Simeone who saw one of his own raise his arm: Marcos Llorente. On his lips you could read: “Broken”. From Paul, cold, inside. Sevilla came to rest like Atleti in the first half hour: disappeared. Koundé’s change of position had broken him.

When the second half began, João Félix walked among Cholo’s men and the game changed. Correa sat down, changed the rojiblanco system, 4-3-3, with Carrasco as the right winger and Lemar left. Lopetegui at eight minutes tried to straighten him out with the entry of Acuña and Rafa Mir and also another system: five behind, three centrals. Rakitic slammed a ball into the side of the net as he searched for the squad before his team ran out of air.

Because the Andalusians collapsed, without physique. And that João’s entrance had been pure foam, off after a few minutes, without the ball or partners. But it didn’t matter either. Lopetegui seemed to raise the white flag, his players melted. And the fear of losing sent more than the desire to win. Atleti tried to grab a game that was getting stuck from the chest, with Cunha looking for balls and unchecking at the feet of Bono with Carpanta’s hunger and in the place of Suarez, who was sworn in Aramaic. Sevilla responded with heart after seeing how Acuña left the game, injured again, like Ocampos, after having thrown himself on that corner in the 88th minute to leave Atleti and Cholo on the canvas. So far already. From Madrid, from himself.