Well looked, the derby was reassuring. I had been wondering for a while about my detachment from football. I was afraid that it was a symptom of old age, a degenerative process in the ability to get excited about things and to keep the desire for fun as a priority. In these, I told myself, I end up reading Schopenhauer . But what's up. It is not my fault, what happens is something much simpler: these two teams are a reverend brandy. And it is true that, to compensate for the poverty of the show, one can always hold onto the handle of the forofism. But that is still an emotional self-deception. If the derby were a wine, we would have returned it. And someone who does not distinguish a good wine from a cardboard one says so.

It was as if to suspect him already in the lineups. Certain talent carriers stayed on the bench and were replaced by machacas. Both teams confessed reciprocity, the fear they have for each other. Since Simeone restored the derbies after a long decade in which they did not exist, we have been going through various episodes of intimate rivalry, including European digression, until reaching this moment, perfectly characterized by the nullity of an eternal 0-0, in which operates among them the famous acronym of the Cold War: DMA (Mutual Assured Destruction), so that no one dares to be the first to open the nuclear silos. They are monitored, they are suspicious, they are annulled. But that's it. Both prefer to leave it more or less intact to continue the routine of the League without mood wounds.

You arrive at the end of the game with the impression that they never surpassed those known as "minutes of scoring." That is to say, that the party did not break, even without lacking a certain temperamental demand, an intensity of derby increased by the roar of the stands. But it would be necessary to appear, in some player with personality and sense of adventure, a point of folly like Cardigan in Crimea. That someone be encouraged, against the instructions of his technician, to overflow that tangle of boredom and solid lines, to gallop madly to the load. Bale tried it sometime before withering in the lack of space. The Atleti had the trippier uncheck and the diagonals of Thomas , a footballer whom he had never seen so hierarchical and solvent in the middle center. The best of the night, in the humble opinion of this dilettante.

Having alluded to the best of the night forces us to remember now those who were not even being called to it. Because the best way to summarize this derby is to check what the players who most wanted to see contributed: Hazard on one side and Joao Felix on the other. I guess I do not commit spoiler if I tell them that they did not contribute anything and that at all times it seemed that they did not know how to enter a game that had decided to make it difficult for people in their game profile.

Hazard, quite frustrating, reminded an archetype of a player who in recent years has been a recurrent in Chamartín: the low ass caracoleador midfielder. Therefore, with Hazard there is the curious sensation of taking a long time watching a player who has just arrived: there was always someone like him and Hazard, for the moment, does not improve his predecessors, although he may do so when he finishes entering and improve fitness

Obviously, Joao Félix has the excitement of youth and is a prodigious lad who must know how to wait when these hard games, with real ammunition, without concessions on the brand or in space, force him to beg between the lines that single ball Good that you think you need to solve the night.

Anyway, tie and everyone comes out alive. Madri and Atleti suspect that the season will bring them derbies to life or death and they decided to wait. But it's boring even when Simeone cultivates his hyperventilation show in the band. When the best close-ups are of a coach, something fails in the game.

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