Celta – Atlético | Draw to punches and points

He had not started to sweat the game if he wanted when the marker fell on Celta like a brick. 0-1, second 56. Óscar looked incredulous. The grass, the result, but it was as real as Cholo had unleashed his particular kryptonite (five defenses behind, although Araujo was missing) in the first round. It all started in a bad clearance of Aspas that Arias, ready, steals. Wall with Llorente, transfer to Correa, oriented control and pass behind. There, in front of the goal, Morata was already ready to draw his leg and just push it. Goal, without the clock having reached the minute. The Atlético postparón version is all jagged. It does not matter who plays, Morata and not Costa, sanctioned, Correa and not Carrasco, with an intestinal condition at home, Arias and not Trippier, in his particular today you play, tomorrow I.

Oscar took longer to get the scare off him, he sat down, nervously stood on his bench, than his own players. They conceded the blow, cleaned their clothes and took the ball to try to get rid of Atlético who, after the goal, took refuge in their field. And there, from that trench, he waited, disjointed that suffocating pressure with which he likes to disarm his rivals. The Cholo was looking for what he had already had: steal, run and score. Celta wanted dominance to progress and search for Aspas, their lethal gunner. The two teams overturned on their rights, Arias-Correa on the one hand, Hugo Mayo on the other, all with the same result: none. Both teams, in reality, were only crashing into the walls raised by the heads, legs and skins of their centrals. Ya Savic-Giménez. Murillo already. All of rock. And the minutes kept passing.

It was Brais Méndez, when the break was coming, who tried to threaten Oblak with an attempt to screw up after crossing that door for the umpteenth time: that of Lodi's yellow one. Manu Sánchez, just in case, began to heat up in the band. From Atlético in the Rubén area, little news came but all important. He was able to sentence before the break twice. First with that hand in hand of Correa that disrupted the referee by whistling for a foul on Llorente in what was actually obstruction of the rival (oh, the referees and their absolutely particular and inexplicable world …). Later, when Llorente rejoined Correa to win the baseline and run the ball through the lime at Rubén's feet. There was no auctioneer, but when the referee whistled the rest, Óscar slipped into his locker room chased by that sigh that does not go in the season. Oops oops.

The second part started as a carbon copy of the first … but with different colors. Because this time the marker fell like a brick on the Cholo. 1-1. Beltrán took the brush out of his boot to invent a volley-spoon finish that slipped smoothly by the Oblak squad and was a punch from Celta to the game and all the black sighs.
Atlético lost in Balaídos, unable to contain Celta, unleashed after reaching a draw. And Oscar, already calmer, the neck of the polo had stopped tightening, had saved for the tired gameThat is, now, the speed of Santi Mina and the talent of Rafinha. Cholo countered by introducing four new ones in five minutes: Manu, Herrera, Vitolo and Lemar. What stopped the game, however, was not that but an injury: Rubén suddenly raised his hand to the soas. There a bite. Villar, the third goalkeeper, had to debut.

The gloves released a shot from outside the area of ​​a Lemar who until then had only continued to fill in his infamous Red and White logbook in Galicia with a recital of losses and slips. Saponjic added ten more minutes to his, almost immaculate, who looked for the goal with more desire than success while in an empty Balaídos only that Oscar's scream was heard. “Get out, get out, get out”, every time Atleti approached, as if he could summon the meigas with him. In the end the point was worth even if the two teams needed all three to truly close their goals in this long year.