real Madrid
Bellingham makes a desperate gesture in front of Mbapp and Vinicius during yesterday’s match.EFE
-
CARLOS CARPIO
Not with Bellingham either. The British all-rounder is back and football is still conspicuous by its absence. It remains to be seen how Camavinga will function when he reappears and takes up his position as the bridge of command of a transatlantic ship that today is sailing without control, adrift, although it almost always ends up reaching a safe harbor. The team wins because of the tons of talent that it brings together on the pitch, whatever the
line-up ends up imposing the law of the strongest. But it is a crime that with so many good players together the image they offer is so poor.
Meanwhile, the casting continues and Ancelotti continues to try out combinations in the creative area without finding the formula.
Right now, Madrid, more than a team, is a sum of excellent individualities that are unable to function as a unit.
They lack harmony, coordination. Everything is thick, heavy, complicated.
This difficulty is noticeable in the development of the game when the opponent presses them when they are bringing the ball out, but where it is most obvious is in the pressure they exert when it is the opponent who has the ball. The white players chase shadows, move out of time, uncoordinated, very far apart, inefficient and permanently leaving gaps.
There are some who really beat themselves up at running, like Bellingham, Valverde or Rodrygo, with the frustration that comes from almost always arriving late; and there are others, like Vinicius or Mbapp, who don’t even try, and when they do it is with as little intensity as conviction.
If they really rehearse pressure at Valdebebas, it certainly doesn’t look like it.
This explains why, when the European champions made their debut in their favourite competition and in their stadium, there were whistles for poor play and why at half-time the best player by far was their goalkeeper, Courtois.
The 0-0 was a mirage that did not reflect the superiority of a brave and uninhibited Stuttgart that had clearly surpassed the whites.
Right now it doesn’t matter where or who they play: Madrid is lost and still can’t find itself.
