For those of you who follow Real Madrid with a telescope so powerful it makes that Hubble hunk-of-junk look like your grandparent´s bifocals, you noted Kaka played only a few token minutes this weekend. Why?

A feud, perchance, between Pellegrini and the born-again-Christian? Unlikely. Pellegrini did not handle the Riquelme situation well, but he is no Mourinho. A glance at the calendar shows an intriguing date between the two heavyweights of European soccer. A date which corresponds to…today.

I firmly have my replica Kaka t-shirt tucked in. His undershirt says something else, but as a Madrid fan, I know that Ricky belongs to me. And not Manchester City. As Berlusconi noted,  his contract with Milan was made of a piece of paper, a paper torn to shreds when placed side-by-side with several green pieces of paper.

What interests me most is how Milan´s aging guard will react to Ricky. Can we count on a few trademark two-seconds-late slidetackles from Gattuso? Can Gattuso even keep pace with Ricky? And Pato, the boy wonder who can´t quite cut it for Brazil, will he have an axe to grind?

Still…whenever I see Kaka galloping in the hole, roaming free as a treqarttista, images flash in my mind of Hernan Crespo and Shevchenko running diagonal daggers through opposing defenses. Pictures filter into view and gloss over my cornea, as the game turns into a game of pinball where a pass on the ground between two defenders counts double…

I want this Madrid to harness that type of magic. I want Raul to finish off a sliderule pass, as opposed to a delicate touch on a cross. I want Higuain to dart, stop, and shimmy his way into dangeorus spaces, timing his run to perfection in a moment of comic chemistry like when Harry met Sally or Tom Hanks got mail. I want to love this Madrid side.

But I´ll settle for a comfortable 2-0 victory over an aging side that played UEFA Cup football last season and appears destined for another Europa invitatin at season´s end.

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