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The last resort of a desperate Atlético, to scratch at least one draw, was the head of

Jan Oblak

.

The goalkeeper jumped in and even hooked the ball.

But not for those.

Levante, that team that no one wants to hear about (rightly so) because of the Metropolitano, made a legend unrelated to the Granota team walking on the edge of a cliff that hints at the Second Division.

There was hardly a trace of Atlético, who perpetrated one of the most indolent nights of the season.

He didn't even feel like looking in his pocket to see if there were still any miracles available.

As far as the purpose of amendment is concerned, Atlético is not very reliable.

Every week, more or less, the rojiblancos promise not to fall back into that recurring sin of tiptoeing through the first half of the match.

As if the time that passes until the break, sometimes indigestible, like the one that the stands lived against Levante, were minutes of garbage that were useless.

Every once in a while, the refrain is repeated: "We don't have to give away the first parts."

But it happens over and over again.

Maybe it's a curse and they don't know it yet.

The fact is that, for 45 minutes, the rojiblancos were apathetic and overwhelmed by a rival, the bottom team, who managed to shrink Simeone's own stomach.

The granota curse planned for a good handful of time by the Metropolitan.

Maybe it's not a coincidence either.

The fact is that Atlético went to the locker room without having shot on goal and with the relief of having had the usual Oblak.

It was difficult to understand how Levante, dominating and brave in that initial act, walks on the wire towards an almost inevitable abyss.

Because, beyond a few flashes by

Correa

, who was only able to finish off the air, or a handful of capers by

Lemar

, who was able to work a miracle at sunset, the rojiblancos were a shadow.

A team, once again, unrecognizable.

At the last minute, Giménez joined the cause, after testing negative for Covid.

The Uruguayan spread more doubts than certainties throughout the night.

In one of those hesitations, after an error that he blamed on being dazzled by the spotlights, he allowed De Frutos, fast and brazen, to pounce alone on Oblak's goal.

The matter ended up being resolved by the Slovenian as he used to, to the relief of his people.

He sent Levante over an Atlético with a brittle spirit.

By then

Roger

had already headed unsuccessfully just a couple of meters from the red-and-white goal.

The best for the locals, apart from

Munuera Montero forgiving

De Paul

the second yellow

, was that the marker did not move.

The gritty team, feisty, insisted on prolonging the sharp shadow of that black legend that accompanies them when they have the Atlético shield in front of them.

Nor did he need to reinvent football for it.

Lisci's approach

And judging by how the second half dawned, far from repenting their sins, the rojiblancos insisted on their vices.

Melero

's stab

after a blow from De Frutos' top hat, proved everyone right in his convictions.

Both those of the bottom team, for the better, and those of Atlético, for the worse.

The damage could have been even greater if Oblak had not disrupted

De Frutos

' malicious whiplash .

The Metropolitan each time was completely convinced that his relationship with Levante was a matter to deal with lying down on a comfortable couch.

The approach of the Italian

Lisci

short-circuited the few (and concise) offensive ideas of the people of Madrid.

Not even the board could fix a night doomed to the grotesque.

Beyond some outburst of genius from

Joao Félix

, Atlético denied himself.

Not a trace of that redemptive version capable of finding a miracle when oxygen is scarce.

The clock stopped when Levante decided.

Even

Malsa

kissed the crossbar with a venomous long shot, after the referee annulled what seemed like Correa's equaliser.

The presence of

Cárdenas

, the Valencian goalkeeper, was testimonial.

Atlético died a victim of its own thickness, of its insulting apathy, at the hands of a Levante that once again became that cruel executioner.

An Atlético that will have to wash its face a lot if it does not want the Champions League, so expensive this season, to slip away.

One more night he will sleep outdoors.

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