Manchester United 0-Atletico Madrid 1 | The dreams belong to Atlético

Atleti is like a ball, that piece of leather full of blows that always runs forward. His goal is the network, and it doesn’t matter what gets in the way, what a mistake. The Theater of Dreams, the rival legs, the doubts or the Cristiano Ronaldos. It always arrives. It is his destiny. That of an Atleti who returned to football to reach the quarterfinals of this Champions League against United.

A United that wanted to smear this round of 16 in red soon. Pogba and Rashford accompanied Rangnick on the bench. To green, the meritorious. In the green, Elanga, hero in the first leg. United had the ball, bringing the echo of the stands to football, with a Cristiano who moved all over the front of the attack showing his teeth. Clack, clack, clack. The Atleti took sheltera, an Atleti that was the same as the one on Friday, except Lodi for Carrasco. That is, with Giménez and without Kondogbia, that is, with Koke. From the first ball, and with his body full of memories, with Cristiano’s injuries on so many nights like this, he went out to protect himself. His plan, of course: take shelter and protect yourself professionally while waiting for a mistake. With martial order they moved. Defending fierce and attacking determined. Against a United that did not elaborate too much, but vertical, always looking for the area, Oblak’s gloves.

Elanga, lethal when scratching a space, set up an alarm when heading a lateral cross with such force that he took the goalkeeper ahead in the second minute. Ten minutes later, he put his face before the jaws: Cristiano, with those movements from here to there that made him indescribable, sent another lateral cross for Elanga’s shot that ran into the Slovenian forehead. Little from Atleti, because he barely had the ball, but the man from 13 on his back was already raising his fist to the Theater of Dreams. Atleti were 12. Eleven men and their miracles.

He responded after ten minutes De Paul, in the first play in which the rojiblancos made more than two passes in a row, sent a shoe to the squad that De Gea took out with the tips of his fingers. The Argentine wore his stripes at night, United did not let go of the ball, Fred-McTominay an insurmountable pivot. Savic, Giménez and Reinildo had work to do but they were as well planted as Jan’s gloves. The second time that the rojiblancos chained more than two passes in a row, the ball ended up in De Gea’s net. De Paul’s stripes shining again. Koke’s feet made it to the ground, turning the game. His leaked balls were the weapon to break the pressure, to find the cracks. Like the one he sent to Llorente and João kicked into the net. But immediately a flag in the air: offside. The 0-0 was back on the scoreboard but the way was open. The Atleti already installed in the more.

The third time that Atleti gave two passes in a row, the 0-1 did not move from the scoreboard. The play, almost a carbon copy. Very fast. In eight touches. From Paul first to space, João’s heel to It bites that puts her first for the header of the one who came alone before De Gea: Lodi Nazario. Goal. The Theater of Dreams silenced. United going into the break with Oblak raising the glove again, and his miracles, against Bruno Fernandes.

in a hurry

From the dugout, United returned in a hurry and Atleti cemented the passing lanes and a Griezmann in Griezmann mode. No footballer like him takes Cholo’s blackboard to the grass. Effective in aid and fierce in pressure, with touches of genius on attack. United took refuge in the ball but without danger, it was just a trompe l’oeil. The rojiblancos got into the cave and they couldn’t find a hole for them, a crack. Sancho volleyed high, out of sheer impotence, disconnected for the entire game, because of Llorente. Meanwhile, Atleti, to their own, robbery and stampede. In four touches thrown towards De Gea. Griezmann always at the wheel. But once De Paul finished meekly and, another time, Giménez headed wide.

Rangnick ripped Pogba and Ranshford off to the side and sent them onto the field with Matic. Triple change. The English feeling how the ticking of the clock pulled their muscles. The last fifteen minutes, also with Cavani, were a continuous rain of balls on Oblak. But Oblak followed his own. That he was the Oblak of the big nights. He put the glove hard against a header from Varane and in the rejection of Cristiano. Simeone looked at the clock out of the corner of his eye until ’80 he had to make his first change. Koke lame, Kondogbia to the match. Mata was Rangnick’s last change, going for the game without defenders. It was all lateral crosses, high balls, the last six minutes, Old Trafford pushing, unbearable.

But the heroes of Cholo resisting. João melted, with lactic acid stinging his legs, looking for oxygen in each foul received. But resisting, even if the clock was so unbearably slow, even if De Gea left his goal to try to head the last corner. But the ball was also kept by Oblak. Because sometimes mathematics does not serve to explain the world. Because sometimes what remains can only be told from the emotion. The unexplainable. And that’s what Atleti knows for a while. With her Mikasa skin.