06
Dec
Written by: Elliott
When I first saw the starting eleven for Madrid, one thought crossed my mind: “Well, I didn’t really care to beat Almeria at home…hmmpf!” But deep down, in between an assortment of bruised ribs, my sternum, and the esophagus, I knew that I wanted to win.
So when Sergio Ramos scored an early goal, my heart fluttered and my eyelids battered. I primped and preened like a peacock in the spring, but there was just one problem: Madrid let the foot off the gas. That and every half competent small-to-medium sized Spanish club comes to the Bernabeu looking for a Tyrannosaurus Rex scalp.
Almeria scored two goals in classic Madrid fashion. Every other news outlet will fondle the Ronaldo storyline – a goal, a missed penalty, and a red card. This is the soccer equivalent of the Gordie Howe hat trick in ice hockey, which granted is cool. Kinda. But his individual brilliance should not mask over the Chilean mad hatter pulling the strings. And the supporting cast.
Marcelo. Usually when I see this name in the lineup, I clean my glasses, check my prescription, and then dust my netbook monitor. Sometimes I will turn off my computer, drink a glass of water, take the dog for a walk, and check back in five minutes. If I continue to see this name, though, I get worried. Marcelo is the confusingly androgynous midfielder-defender. Too female to play professional soccer in Mexico, but too male to run track for Nigeria. Where should he be? Hmm, well, the bench is still a possibility, even though sitting next to Raul in that context is the terrifying premise for the fourth Final Destination installment.
The mad hatter decided Marcelo should start alongside Van der Vaart and Granero. The Almeria coach probably took this gesture as an insult. I know that I did.
Nevertheless, when Madrid floundered for a good chunk of the second half, Pellegrini called on Monseur Benzema to inject life into the attack, and the Frenchman would score the crucial go-ahead goal after pouncing on a parried Cristiano Ronaldo penalty kick.
And Gonzalo Higuain? Just another pedestrian day for the young Argentine. While he did not score in last week’s classico, against Almeria he scored the game tying goal and served in the cross for Cristiano’s insurance tally. Of course, given the Galactico policy of selling underpaid and over-performing players, I fully expect him to be sold to Real Mallorca in January for 2 million euros to be paid out over three years.
And then he will sign for Barcelona in two years, spearhead a La Liga-Champions League double, and sing a foul-mouthed word before the Nou Camp, a word that rhymes with “campeon.”
So, in sum, Manuel Pellegrini fielded a weak starting lineup, made some crucial second half substitutions, and Madrid won at home. For the moment, the rabbit can put away his ticking watch and the Chilean can enjoy a cup of tea. Because he is not yet late for his pink slip date.
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