Madrid has started off well under Mourinho, but the even the Speical One can turn a goalfest into boredom. The last few matches have had the suspense and drama of an episode of Sesame Street. The plot got more redundant than Heroes. Real scores early. Before halftime, Real scores to ice the game. 45 minutes later, victory. However, unlike Racing Sandblaster and Murky Murcia, Hercules offered a different type of threat: competent forwards.
Nelson Valdez and David Trezeguet present a contrast in World class talents. While Valdez is the sprightly rising talent that never got his due in German football, Trezeguet was released by the Old Lady as part of their “youth movement.” Forced to languish in the shadow of Tiki for Les Bleus, the Frenchman has been the quintessential forward who does nothing but score goals. And in the first half he did very little. Except score a goal. And Hercules led at home, 1-0, at halftime.
Shortly after the break, an opportunistic Di Maria scored off a rebound from a classic Cristiano Ronaldo long distance strike, the kind that drops like Greg Luganis, swivels like Enrigue Iglesias’ hips, and gives keepers the fits. Then, to nobody’s shock, the merengues slowly grabbed hold of the game. Khedira did his best impression of robocop, policing the midfielder with slow steps but a bulletproof body. While his Brazilian jujitsu may fly in stateside Ultimate Fighting Arenas, he did earn a yellow card for his efforts. A deserved yellow card. Still, level 1:1, Mourinho smelled blood and took off Pepe for Karim Benzema. Caution to the wind?
Perhaps, though, the substitution had another explanation. Any experienced Madrid fan knows the eery power Pereze subtly exercises over managers. At first, I suspected the worst – Benzema had morphed into Madrid’s Shevchenko, an owner’s pick that could spell an early coaching exit ala Chelsea.
On the other hand, as a longtime close listener to Mourinho’s press conference double speak, I had the hunch Karim was due for some minutes. Players would be dead to Mou based on a game against Murcia? Ha. He cared about the Copa del Rey? Ha-ha! Besides, Mesut has performed brilliantly early on, but remains a few years too young to physically & mentally handle so many games in so little time. Decisive attacking flair lacking? Enter Karim.
Within minutes of his arrival, the game had been won. Benzema’s cheeky heel unleashed Marcelo, who then squared for the young French forward to blast into the keeper’s palms and then Ronaldo tapped home the rebound. Exactly as Mourinho drew it up on the chalkboard. Minutes later, Benzema then tee’d up Ronaldo for a rocket from six yards, and the route was on. But for an errant chip, CRon could have had a hat trick within fifteen minutes. Is it the shoes?
Still, the Mourinho double speak has set off subtle alarm bells only dogs or people with great hearing can hear. He has spoken of perhaps someday leaving Madrid, a sure sign that he really enjoys his job but fears Perez may twist his arm. Always full of pride, Mou has seldom stuck around town to get ran off.
In a few years, when the Man City millions butt heads with the UEFA debt rules, only one can emerge victorious. But by then, after spending so much time watching our atrocious cantera, Mou’s next gig is anyone’s best guess. For the time being, we savor the flavor and start the clasico countdown….
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