For Glorioso, Marcos Llorente

He left in 56 and broke Alavés. It caused a foul that ended in a goal by Saúl and a penalty that Costa scored. Joselu also scored from a penalty.

In his almost immaculate route after the break, Atlético very made in Cholo added a victory, after much chewing and clinging to the usual legs lately, a Glorious named Marcos Llorente. And that Alavés jumped into the game as if this were a nuisance, thinking more about what will come (Granada, Valladolid) than what was ahead, Atlético. Without Joselu, Laguardia, Manu García, on the bench, without Lucas, with a blow to the quadriceps at home, with the debut of a youth squad, Abdallahi. A lineup loaded with substitutes, nine changes, against an Atlético almost gala who, while his rivals puncture and puncture, continues adding foam to his mattress on the podium. Four rotated, Llorente and Costa among them, from the start, but João and Morata took their place. The same would apply to Garitano. Or No.

The game started with a lot of referee whistle, stuck and interrupted, as if it were a premonition. Atleti were looking for control, inside, the bands. Alavés answered with a forest of men, six parapetes in defense with a motto: "They will not pass." A wall that, in the first ten minutes, tried to knock down the Cholo with a slate. The first foul tried was sent by Morata. The second was a scissor shot by João who went within a span of the post. Until the third it would be a while. And large. The Pacheco area became an increasingly indecipherable place, a labyrinth of legs, as time passed and the movement of the ball slowed down.

Atlético were looking for the key by the Trippier gang, but when they got up there was little company. Morata, locked between centrals, Correa denied, Koke without light, João Félix prisoner of abulia, dull and apathetic. The rojiblancos stamping themselves again and again against the wall of Garitano RR Martín. So compact in the back and so little in attack, just some jogging by Aleix Vidal. It was time to chew. The most interesting thing that happened in the Metropolitano was the impudence of Abdallahi and the names and images of the subscribers in the viodemarcador. And that's it. Until 45 everything was minutes of those that seem to last for years. And they become eternal. If there had been a stand, I would have asked for Llorentes, Vitolos, Carrascos.

It took seven minutes to resume so that there was more than a jam in the game. A shot by João from outside the area that bounced off a defender. Cholo was sweating on his bench, unable to find a loophole for that Alavés with nine changes, without Joselu, Laguardia, Manu, Lucas, with so much new. Two minutes after that occasion, he looked back and nodded: Llorente and Costa inside. Two minutes after stepping on the field, the first one started a yellow. And how yellow. The catenaccio exploded.

Because the hero of Anfield is the man of the season already, and that lack that Adrián Marín made him was thrown by Trippier towards the far post as a gift to be unwrapped by Saúl, who threw himself headlong screaming goool. 1-0, cholista poetry. How a life can change a party. Llorente's will always be linked to that, Anfield. With João's departure and Carrasco's entry, he took a step forward to put himself in his place, the one that Cholo has invented for himself and that suits him so well.

Burke tried to sneak into his party with Alavés's clearest chance so far, but Llorente had come out with the champagne and the streamer and, in a race to Ely by the band, took away from Duarte a penalty that Costa put on the scoreboard . Very, very doubtful, it was not clear who was hitting whom, but the referee did not even see him. Neither is the following. A Koke hand that was head, shoulder, as little penalty as the previous one. Joselu was marking it, while Koke saw a yellow that lowers him from the Camp Nou, like Savic, the shadow of a victory so made in Cholo.

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