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Atlético Madrid are alive, the Metropolitano interrupting all the singing and the bouncing to erupt one last time as deep into added time at the end of a derby day they will never forget, Antoine Griezmann slotted the ball under Thibaut Courtois to score their fifth. Yes, five. So much for boring, so much for the title race being over already. So much for Real Madrid’s invincibility; this was a destruction and it was thoroughly deserved.
When that last one went in, it seemed almost absurd to recall that Atlético had been 2-1 down, that a familiar fear had hung here. This was fun instead; for almost the entire second half it had been certain too: there had been no doubts, just enjoyment. Goals from Robin Le Normand, Alex Sørloth and two from Julián Alvarez had seen them come back from 2-1 down to 4-2 and now, here it was, one last flourish. A manita as they call it in Spain: a little hand, a goal for each finger. Clenched perhaps: it had hit Madrid hard, and unexpectedly so.
Madrid arrived having won all six games this season and were nine points above their neighbours, knowing that a victory would virtually eliminate Atlético from the title race before September had even ended. Xabi Alonso had talked about them still being in construction and it was worth remembering that their six victims included the teams in 19th, 18th, 17th, 16th and 13th; worth remembering too that Atlético had not been beaten in five derbies. But what they had built had been good, an idea and a structure clear, expectations rising with the edifice.
Here, though, it was brought down. Atlético were a wrecking ball, back in the title race. Six points are still a significant gap, but this was huge.
They came out swinging from the start, the noise rolling down the stands and across the pitch, rising with every run and there were plenty of those. Diego Simeone’s side were quick to go at Madrid, not allowing them time to play, They might have had a perfect start too, when Sørloth was released. Through and into the area, faced only by Courtois – or so it seemed – he slowed, and seemed to be trying to position his body to bend it past the keeper or perhaps to allow Alvarez to join him. Either way, in that moment’s hesitation Éder Militão slid in to block him.
Atlético kept coming, especially on the right where Álvaro Carreras was struggling with Giuliano Simeone although it was Pablo Barrios who first got the better of him, delivering a long, high cross which Sørloth, leaning, headed goalwards. Courtois pushed over the bar that time but couldn’t stop the next on 15 minutes, Robin Le Normand meeting a Simeone cross to head through his arms. Madrid could not deal with this, Nico González’s ball flashing past the post a minute later, just beyond Le Normand and David Hancko.
Next, Barrios robbed Carreras and put Sørloth in. The Norwegian seemed a little slow to react, a slight shift to the right interrupting his run and seeing him get there a touch late, arriving just as Courtois did. Still they came: a moment later, González struck just wide. Atlético had had a handful of clear sights of goal already. Kylian Mbappé needed just one to wipe out all they had done, which had always been the fear. A sharp exchange with Arda Guler, saw him spin, sprint in behind and strike a clean, low shot into the corner. All so fast, so easy.
At that point there might have been something familiar to the way this felt for Simeone, who has not unjustly talked about efficiency this season. Coming into this, on average Atlético had conceded every other shot they faced, while it had taken them 10 to score. If the former is about standard, the second is “not normal” Sørloth had said just before kick-off. Against Elche, Mallorca and Alavés, among their opponents so far, perhaps not; against Mbappé, it is. This was his eighth league goal already and in the one game he did not score, he twice had the ball in the net only to be ruled out for offsides that were a matter of millimetres.
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And that average was brought down too, a move that started right on Madrid’s own byline finishing in the Atlético net within seconds. Dean Huijsen smashed the clearance long, Le Normand misjudged the flight, Vinícius dashed away, paused and pulled the ball back for Guler to take it on the bounce and score. Two shots, two goals. And as if to prove the point, that fear that what happens in the penalty areas had been undoing all they do in between, in the very next minute Alvarez bent against the post. That was Atlético’s seventh shot. When they next had the ball in the net, it wasn’t even a shot; nor did it count, the VAR spotting that it had gone in, accidentally, off Clément Lenglet’s arm.
This time though, there was a way back, justice done. Madrid had scored two from two but would not score again. They would barely shoot again, in fact. And if Atlético’s equaliser would have to wait until Koke’s glorious inswinging ball was headed in by Sørloth, they would not stop there. The striker sprinted off into the welcoming arms of the supporters in the south-west corner and more might have followed just before the break: the latest in a long line of dangerous crosses, this time from González, just evaded the Norwegian, flying past his forehead as he was starting to turn the tendons in his neck.
That left Simeone senior on his knees over on the touchline but he would be up again almost as soon as the second half started. Reaching for a high ball, Guler turned and caught González in the chest, giving away the penalty that put Atlético 3-2 up, this place erupting when Alvarez converted. What an afternoon this was, and it wasn’t over. Sørloth had another superb chance, teed up by González, and then before Griezmann wrapped it all up, Alvarez curled in a free kick right through the wall, the cracks in Madrid’s facade found, the foundations of this stadium shaken by the noise.
