Real Madrid triumphs amid the noise of the derby

• Narration and statistics This is how we live the game

• Classification First Division

When the Metropolitan erupted it was too late.

's head

believed he drew a miracle in the derby that he himself ended up diluting with his expulsion.

The final revolution came to nothing.

Two well-aimed blows in the first act were enough for Real Madrid to get out of a threatening night.

The whites follow their immaculate path.

For now, no one knows how to stop them.

[Narration and stats: 1-2]

Well, yes, it turns out that behind the haze of the dances and the strident decibels generated by the noise, there was a football match.

Specifically a derby.

And that is not anything.

knows this well

, having seen them in all colors, and in the most remote corners of the continent.

Maybe that's why he wanted to play cluelessness until the last moment.

And he did it by taking out that letter that until now, for bureaucratic reasons, he always saved for last.

He appeared for the first time as the starter

to give meaning to that long-awaited partnership with

.

In the lanes,

and

.

The closest thing to a red and white version without complexes.

But one thing is the theory and another what ends up dictating the ball.

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Santander League.

Vinicius's derby: from "you're a monkey!"

at the gates of the Metropolitan to the dance with Rodrygo

• Writing: ABRAHAM ROMEROMadrid

Vinicius's derby: from "you're a monkey!"

at the gates of the Metropolitan to the dance with Rodrygo

The clause.

dancing with fools

• Writing: IÑAKO DÍAZ-GUERRA

dancing with fools

Because Carlo Ancelotti hardly changed his rictus.

He had his plan at the Metropolitano, the same one that has led him to full victories over which his Real Madrid flies.

Because life, especially in football, goes by at full speed.

And that difference in biorhythms was what ended up marking the derby.

If Atlético approached the area calmly, Real Madrid did so unceremoniously.

If the rojiblancos calibrated Courtois, the whites executed Oblak directly, returning after two injured games.

While Atlético tried to rock their game on the grass, with Griezmann showering his team with balls, running from here to there, Real Madrid took out the hammer as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

Tchouaméni looked up, watched Rodrygo's run, opportunistic as usual, and, after a slip by Felipe, left Oblak nailed to the green.

Sometimes it is better not to think about things so much.

Madrid did not.

He knew what he had to do.

The claw blow led to a dance that, logically, gave free rein to the anger from the stands.

Nobody was caught by surprise.

The visitors did not suffer excessively, beyond some distant shot from Griezmann or some threat from Carrasco.

For the locals, however, each ball to the back threatened to become a stab wound.

He avoided the second Reinildo, in the first mistake Witsel, who is also deadly, remembers when Rodrygo pounced on his piece.

But no one managed to avoid the wall between Modric and Vinicius, who accelerated the clock to split the red and white defense in two.

He found the post, but Valverde, overwhelming, brought out the colors of Atlético again before the break.

The debauchery, the forcefulness.

Two ways of seeing life.

Last night, Atlético lacked a bit of both.

While Joao Félix simply hovered, Rodrygo or Vinicius conveyed concern, even if they only hovered for a moment near Oblak.

Atlético never found the way.

And it wasn't because of the mist.

And that changed face after the break.

That he showed joy, strength and intention, the essential ingredients to be able to scratch this Real Madrid.

But at the gates of Courtois's corner, everything seemed to vanish.

Last night, the 60th minute was not Griezmann's minute, who watched from the pitch as Cunha and Morata joined that challenge of grabbing the derby by the lapel again.

It was time to call on courage.

There are nights that require it and not even with those.

This was one of them.

Courtois barely suffocated.

For Modric and Kroos, their classic score, through which the years do not pass, was enough to sustain the beating of a white heart that barely shook.

They know when, how and why things happen at Real Madrid.

From their boots, from their brains, the derby seemed to fall under its own weight, heading for the Bernabéu.

As much as Simeone shook the board, returning Witsel to midfield or taking out four of his sharpest arrows.

Atlético lacked for much of the night that essential poison to be able to knock down an ogre.

No rojiblanco seemed to have the gods on his side until, already at sunset, Hermoso's head emerged to, as usual, light that last flame of illusion amidst the storm.

But the fire, and the athletic revolution, went out with his expulsion.

The last dance was for Madrid.

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