A serious problem called Barcelona.
The team that owns the sensations, the one that dominates the classics with an iron fist.
The one who inhibits Real Madrid, the one who delves into his doubts.
The one who has won nine of the last 12 times, since
Sarunas Jasikevicius
landed on the Barça bench as captain of the resurrection, the six duels played at the WiZink Center for greater affront.
The one who already leads the Euroleague and almost the ACB, where he still has a couple of games to play.
The favorite, with capital letters, to the Copa del Rey de Granada next week.
The one that knocked Madrid down again this Friday, this time in an even worse way, causing
Pablo Laso
's men to hit rock bottom at the Palace.
[68-86: Narration and statistics]
All the frustration, all the impotence of recent times against the azulgrana, exploded in gushes from the very dawn.
It was a reality check.
It was a dramatic Madrid, lengthening all the thickness of Tuesday in Istanbul, where they had been reduced to 17 points in the first half against Fenerbahçe.
A start to rub your eyes, with 12 consecutive points from Nico Laprovittola, the guy who is starring in an amazing rebirth of his career: lost in white a few months ago, unapproachable now in Barça, in a magical airlift.
In less than eight minutes, an almighty Barcelona, a symphony of electric basketball, destroyed a Madrid without even a heart, which chased shadows in the Palace.
A devastating partial 2-24, never seen before.
Jasikevicius only had to focus on his principles, on those foundations of rocky play, without fissures, against which Real Madrid is stamped time and time again.
The first basket was a triple by Sanli, to get Edy Tavares out of his lair in the area.
Later Laprovittola abused Heurtel in the former duel, the Frenchman as desperate as the Argentinean was successful.
Then Dante Exum emerged, who wins the extension of his contract, now that Corey Higgins will undergo surgery, with great performance... The white attacks were a bunch of nonsense and only a couple of baskets by Tavares made him at least appear at WiZink.
Far from reacting, Madrid continued to sink even deeper into its mud, before the runrun of the Palace, which a while before had once again paid tribute to Felipe Reyes.
Because Barcelona smelled blood and did not lower the piston, with Jasikevicius as a histrionic conductor, demanding more and more from the band.
Kuric, Jokubaitis... lions before a prey full of doubts, exhausted, paralyzed, who missed the seven triples attempted before the break (he finished with a gloomy two of 22).
Mirotic's points weren't even needed: his first basket came in the 19th minute, when he continued to dominate, despite the fact that Causeur tried to hit the counter without much collective luck.
The only recipe that has been worth Madrid lately against the culé ogre is the revolution.
But Jasikevicius is already well warned.
And without Rudy Fernandez, who was absent like Deck and Taylor, that is also more complicated.
And breathless, even worse.
Alberto Abalde, who tried again and again, finally hit from the perimeter and when Tavares scored for 38-54, it seemed that a loophole was opening up for the comeback.
But it wasn't just a matter of the head, it was above all a basketball issue.
Tavares continued to score and Madrid tried against Barça with one gear less, but the distance did not decrease too much.
Because the whites failed the inexplicable, like the boxer who lacks bellows in his arms to hit.
And with a Barça that was now speculating more than was recommended, he would have had a glimmer of heroism.
When Brandon Davies committed an unsportsmanlike foul with six minutes to go, Llull had up to two triples to have lowered what they call the psychological barrier of 10 points.
In the end, only Tavares managed to hit, as immaculate as his 10-for-10 shooting was unhelpful.
It is the fifth defeat in the last eight games for Madrid that has left energy and good feeling on the way.
That seems broken when it does nothing chained victories and reinforcements.
An exhausting Christmas return, with 14 games in just over a month, some more than inopportune injuries and a merciless Barça, against whom they have had nothing to do in the last three consecutive occasions, have made him dismount now that he arrives the first title of the year.
In Granada it will be rise or die for Laso's men.
The review, of time, can only serve to revive.
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