Elche-Real Madrid Hazard appears to Madrid

Even on the worst days, there is something about Madrid that makes it one of a kind. He sees the Cup with a certain disdain, never recognized. It is not from now, but from always. He feigns interest, but generally aims higher, perhaps due to his overzealousness with the Champions League, and lazes around. Many of the most embarrassing defeats in their history are in the competition, but in Elche, in extra time, with ten, they saved their pride and two damned ones, Isco and Hazard. They signed the comeback. All’s well that ends well, was the summary, although in the middle there was a match between vulgar and bad.

To put dates on the matter, we must remember that Benzema is two years older than Bale and Modric is five years older than Hazard, an unequivocal sign that neither all bodies nor all vocations are the same. The Welshman, in fact, has it in his head to hang up his habits this summer unless Wales take him to their last World Cup. You know: Wales, golf and Madrid. Go erasing the closure of the banner. And it never crosses Hazard’s mind to find a place where he plays more (possible) and is paid less (impossible for him to accept). Both warmed up the bench against an Elche so diminished by COVID that the treasurer almost had to lead from the bench. Bale did not come out of there. Hazard, yes, to become decisive for the first time since he arrived in a Madrid that started out lazy and ended up epic. With eight substitutes in the eleven and the most useful part of what remains in the back room, he got into the Cup quarterfinals, a competition that is born cold in winter and picks up temperature in spring. It starts out as a brown and ends up looking like an opportunity.

The match began with a paranormal phenomenon: not because of Marcelo’s blunder in the cut, who later did everything well, as in his best times, but because Carrillo, two meters from the goal line, with Lunin already out of square, the ball was sent to the crossbar after a precise cross from Josan. The pass of death from which Madrid miraculously came out alive. It sounded like a message that this team is unbreakable. Before and after the event, Madrid offered, quite blandly, its dominant version. It is already known that the same is to mushrooms as to Rolex, which is counterattacking or possessive depending on the touch. But taking charge of the ball didn’t make him better or more dangerous. Moreover, Carrillo scored the second chance, a chopped header stopped by Lunin without Madrid having complained to Werner.

Ancelotti’s team was a listless team, far from the one that was proclaimed super champion in Arabia. Modric was there, who knows all the emergency exits against close rivals, and in Martínez Valero, Valverde and Camavinga, players with better physique than match reading. And up top Ancelotti put, or had no choice but to put, Jovic. Perhaps between him and Benzema the greatest distance between a starter and a substitute in the squad is established. Between his little participation and his lack of gestures, he always leaves the impression that force is at play, due to contractual imperative.

So Madrid was entrusted to the enthusiasm of Camavinga, a true replacement. He lacks skill and the temper that is required of a pivot, but he is hyperactive: he hits, steals, arrives, shoots and starts again. Two of his shots were the best for Madrid in the first half. There was also a shot from Marcelo, a vestige of the prodigious attacking side that he was, and several runs from Vinicius that clouded over in the area. Benzema is his better half and without him he loses space and clarity. The Palacios-Josan clip that Francisco prepared for him also had a barrier effect.

Madrid came back more daring after the break, possibly because Ancelotti got tired of seeing the team slack off and let them know in the dugout. Marcelo was the first promoter of change. In the middle of the opponent’s field he still has a lot of spice.

As that was not enough, the coach returned to the traditional formula: bring together Casemiro and Modric, applauded from the warm-up with Kroos. In short, Madrid at maximum engine power. The trio does not admit comparison neither in the house nor perhaps outside it. The party, at that point, had returned to idle. And when the speed drops, the forces equalize. Ancelotti then looked for an extravagant solution: he removed Jovic and put Isco on. Better without nine than with this nine, seemed the message. In any case, the Serbian had it more than deserved. It was a phantom threat.

With their reliable midfielders and players on the right foot, Madrid’s dominance became overwhelming, although insufficient to avoid extra time. And there, in extra time, with Ceballos and Hazard already on the field, the action began. Figueroa interpreted as worthy of red a presumed trip by Marcelo to Morente as the last defender. Questionable one and the other. At the free kick, and on the second attempt, Verdú’s shot fatally deflected by Ceballos turned Lunin into a statue. Paddling against the current, he was able to equalize, with a shot by Ceballos cleverly deflected by Isco’s heel. And then Hazard appeared to him, who started punctually to a deep ball, dodged a crazy exit from Werner, and gave Madrid his first great service, which was already his turn. He goes to rehabilitation and Madrid, to quarters. And Elche, who were justly annulled 2-2 due to a lack of Verdú, left heartbroken to learn that they had killed Madrid ahead of time.