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This Real Madrid of Chus Mateo of ups and downs, in search of the necessary reaffirmation to face the final sprint of the season to which you enter two corners, left in Bologna a sample of solidity and also of fireworks. Faced with the same Scariolo team that assaulted the WiZink a few months ago, the Whites left no room for doubt. A devastating beginning and a second part with a name of its own: there is nothing to do against the genius of Mario Hezonja. [79-96: Narrative and statistics]

A victory to dream of the lead and practically secure the court factor in favor in the playoffs and that will be remembered for the extraordinary: Yabusele, from his own free kick, closed the first half with a triple to remember.

Already the Frenchman warned. 'This is my night.' So many times lately in the eye of the hurricane, as thunderous offensively as clueless in the back, Yabusele woke up with eight points almost of a run. At that start, Madrid was a cyclone, to the despair of the coach. When Chacho came in to dance a little more, he shot his lead to 17 (9-26).

The same one that was going to keep at halftime, although in between the whites suffered one of their mini disconnections, with the eternal Belinelli leaving one of his last lessons, 15 wonderful points in the blink of an eye (he finished with 26, six triples). The Virtus came to arrive, which hurries its few options to play for the title (31-38), but with the return of the first unit, Madrid soared in a frantic end of the first half, with the culmination of Yabusele's triple, one of the baskets of the year.

And so, with that offensive ease, it could be concluded that Virtus no longer had much left to oppose. But with Scariolo anything is possible. His boys returned with a 10-2, with Hanga erratic and Shengelia and Belinelli following in the bidding. The free kicks did not help a Madrid that sweated more than necessary.

Until Hezonja appeared. At two from the start, the Croatian added five more triples of carrerilla, pure ecstasy. He was sought out by his companions and pursued by his defenders. But it didn't matter. Rudy made the sixth and Hezonja himself the seventh (the eighth in his account, the peak of his Euroleague career) of an electric finale. One more sample of a talent as great as difficult to see with consistency.

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