Horror in Leverkusen

Atlético returned to throw a part in the Champions League. Thomas scored on his own and Volland did it after Beautiful's failure. Red to Amiri. Felipe lame. Morata made up at the end.


Yes, Atlético could have finished last night qualified for eighths mathematically. No, he did not do it. He was far from doing so, in fact, far away. He returned wallowed and defeated by Leverkusen, protagonist of a nightmare in which he got himself. Bosz did not even need to put the three central card on the table. And that Simeone defied the roar of the public's rattles in the stands, which sounded like thunder in the dome of the BayArena, with its new trident pointing like an arrow to the goal of Hradecky. But Costa and Morata get upset and Correa from behind ran for nothing. And when the game started a babysitter started to get out of German feet.

Atlético waited, waited and waited in their field, letting Leverkusen touch and touch. Bosz's chewed the ball, as if the leather were chewing gum: the baton was carried by Aránguiz and he kept sending men, Havertz first, Bellarabi later, on the right wing, to look for tunnels behind Lodi's back. His domain was like music. Slow, as if to sleep children, with the threat of a stuffed animal. On his first occasion, Volland sent the ball to Oblak cuddly after a robbery and a counter. At the Atleti of waiting so much he was putting the matching gesture with the shirt, pale blue and cold, with all the vices of the League on the grass of Champions: throw the first part because yes, because I'm worth it, infamous. And with punishment. Because of letting Leverkusen fill his house so much, he suffered from Stockholm syndrome. And Hermoso, with Felipe clueless, covered a lot but everything could not, inhuman. And less with the fire friend.

If Felipe first crashed a ball on Oblak's post in a clearing attempt, two minutes later Thomas would complete the play: Bosz's team threw his nth very tight corner, to the first post, as if he were looking for the Olympic goal, and while Costa stunned Oblak, Thomas finished off the nonsense. He sent it to the bottom of the network with his head and with a thread. For Bosz it could be even pretty. For a rojiblanco it was to burst into tears.

When the break came and Atlético woke up, the game was a complete nightmare.

Simeone had already shaken his bench seven minutes into the second half, seeking blood from his players: Lemar for a Lodi to match his horrible game. Two later, another scream in the night. Mario Hermoso, hitherto flawless, got on the train of horrors: he failed to clear before Volland who left Oblak again lying in the grass. He drilled it with a very right right to the first stick. And Simeone had no bandages on the bank for so much injury.

Murphy already said: "If something can go wrong, it will go wrong." And that of his team in Leverkusen could only get worse no matter how much, in fifteen minutes, he completed his three changes and remembered that on the bench he has a guy named Vitolo with more football and intention than the one previously known as Costa and Now only his shadow. Or that there is another surnamed Herrera who is a war veteran and does not wrinkle in nightmare nights. With them, and especially with Lemar, he improved Atlético and at least had the ball, a corner, an arrival in the area. At least he seemed to wake up really and try to play. It was the 74th minute. His 45 'games reduced to just 25'. Delirious. Cholo, we have a problem.

And suddenly Felipe began to limp and Atleti had already exhausted the changes. And Leverkusen started throwing the corners again whistling over the Oblak goal as Freddy Krueger's blades. An unknown Oblak, who failed in the exits, who went mad, grabbed Tah's shirt. The tangana that was formed was dissolved by the referee with four yellows. Five minutes later his hand returned to his pocket: red to Amiri. And at that the Atleti was grabbed because, suddenly, he saw himself in the middle of the horror of Kurtz in The Heart of Darkness, with the lullaby, the rattles and down on the scoreboard 2-0 and rebelled against fate with what You better get it: the heroic. His two minutes of fury could change everything, tie it, but it was only makeup. In 93 'Morata scored and in 95' the ball stamped on Hradecky's leg. The match was over. And the damn rattles kept ringing.



Photos from as.com
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