Los Coladeros Episode 40: Valladolid. Again.

12 min readDec 16, 2019

Thanks for staying with me over a very, very, very long set of travel circumstances back from the US last week! Los Coladeros will be here all this week, then we’re off for our winter break — returning January 6th.

Post-derby, the news trickles in that Valencia have absolutely battered Barcelona on their way to a 0–3 defeat thanks to a Roberto Bonano masterclass and having a man sent off just after half time. This Barça side are going to be very, very tough to overhaul if this is how it’s going to go down.

Never mind — there’s good news in Seville, as Mikel Arteta returns to Spain’s Under-21s, Aiden McVeigh is off to meet up with Northern Ireland, who must be seriously short on strikers if he’s still getting in the squad, plus Cristiano Ronaldo has a new mate on the international scene as Nuno Mata gets his first call to Portugal U21s and will head out with the greasy assassin for their game against the Czech Republic. Well in, lads.

Before they leave, though, there’s the small matter of our La Liga campaign — and next up is the short trip south to Málaga to visit one of our fellow promoted sides from last season. It’s fair to say they haven’t started brilliantly, winning only one of their opening eight games and languishing down at 19th in the table after having made only two summer signings: DMC Juan Navarro, average rating 6.20, and 34-year-old right back Carlos Aguilera, who’s done significantly better with 6.25. It’s fair to say they’re not exactly setting the league alight.

They play a very defensive 4–5–1, so we’re going nuclear. It’s time for Guaranteed Goals.

Mike Duff returns, so he slots in at right wing-back, while Ronaldo replaces Alonso in midfield and Recoba is shoved in with him behind Tsigalko, Wor Al and Batigol. Bergtoft also replaces Batty after a couple of anonymous performances from the Yorkshireman, but honestly, we might not need a DMC for this one. I just like to watch them tear around and assault people.

Some people would call me a clown for going away to any La Liga side and playing basically five up front. Well, I say if I’m a clown, Málaga are the circus, and what’s the best way to kill a circus? That’s right. Go for the juggler. I’m here all week.

Málaga do us the courtesy of having their lone striker, Darío Silva, sent off in the third minute for squaring up to the referee of all people — and when they don’t put anyone on to replace him, their formation reverts to a 4–5–0, and their threat goes along with it. By that point they’d already had two shots on target — both through the Uruguayan — and I was concerned, but after his departure, Voulgaris gets out his folding picnic chair, extends it with one hand, and orders himself a chilled glass of Ouzo from Susan’s backpack bar.

It takes a further half an hour of pounding Francesc Arnau before the former Barcelona stopper finally relents to our pressure — and it’s a Cristiano Ronaldo wonder-goal that does the job. The greasy-faced assassin tears past Sandro and Ruano on his way to smashing home a low drive to give us the lead, and we don’t look back. If anything, the only disappointment is that we manage just one further goal through Maxim Tsigalko just after the hour mark, and then lose Batistuta to what looks like an ankle injury minutes later. I bring on Samba and Moukoko for Batigol and Recoba, and the two almost instantly combine for the former to see his header saved by Arnau, who’s having the standard career-defining game in nets for the home side. His heroics, however, are the sole beacon of light in an otherwise desperate performance from the seasiders, while your Wet Bandits get away with a 2–0 win and leave all their taps running for good measure.

Batigol will be out for three weeks with a sprained ankle to add to his rusty knees and second hip, but that’s okay — I’m happy to have the ‘Fgn’ player slot open for Costanzo to return to the squad. He’s going to have to be happy with a place on the bench, though — since being pushed into the first team, Voulgaris has been pretty tremendous. Okay, he’s conceded five goals in just four games, but a 7.50 average rating tells more of the story. I’ve seen how both of them develop over the years and let’s just say we’re very lucky to have them here, and we’ll be even luckier when we sell them to Man Utd for £20m in a few years’ time.

Chugger’s got a bit of extra fire in his exhaust manifold as he grumbles away from the south coast — should probably get that checked out when we get home — as we’re on the long and winding road to the nation’s capital, where he’ll stink out the car park of the Estadio Vicente Calderón in preparation for our clash with Atlético Madrid. Los Colchoneros, which translates quite literally to ‘the Mattress Makers’, are not having a great time of it this season despite boasting an incredibly talented squad; you might say they’re a sleeping giant, if you hated yourself. 15th in the league with only two wins from their first nine games has led to widespread unhappiness throughout their squad; even Atleti loyal Fernando Torres is tired of it all.

I have a bad feeling about this game. Should we wake this team from their slumber, they could give us the sort of thrashing that their fans could only dream of, given the fact that they’ve scored just nine and conceded 11 so far this season; one of the dullest scoring records in the league. I am, however, making a bold return to my 4–1–2–2–1 for this one, with Tsigalko and Recoba supporting Shearer up top and Ronaldo lurking around in midfield alongside Arteta, Batty ordered to kick the cultured shit out of Demetrio Albertini, and my standard back four protecting my newly-established number one, Antonis Voulgaris.

So, then. The Mattress Makers vs the Wet Bandits. Can the home side put us out for the count, or will we stain their precious sheets?

The first half is a snooze fest alright, brightened only by Tsigalko and Recoba cracking efforts on target from around the box that Antonio Prats falls on after making excellent initial blocks. Voulgaris blocks an Emerson shot at the other end, while Shearer’s goalscoring run appears to be over after he spurns two more gilt-edged chances to put us into the lead; that’s only one shot on target in the last two and a half games for England’s legendary former number nine.

At the break I swap out Victory, who’s having a dreadful time up against Munteanu and Contra, for the increased rigidity of Kalogeras — and it turns out to be a masterstroke. He picks up more key headers and tackles in his 45 minute cameo than Victory and Duff combined, causing Munteanu to be subbed off and reducing Contra’s influence from a 10 at half time to an 8 by the end. Sometimes, it almost feels like I know what I’m doing.

The rest of the half is a siege on the Atleti goal, I’m delighted to say — and other than the odd threat they’re always going to carry on the counter, especially with the likes of Fernando Torres hanging around on the shoulder of the last man, the second half is all silver and blue. Tsigalko hits the crossbar, then Ronaldo repeats the trick two minutes later. Prats manages to get his fingertips to a Recoba free-kick, before saving from impossibly close range to deny David Batty his first Coladeros goal as he bundles Recoba’s corner towards the net. I replace Shearer with Moukoko and bring Tsigalko into the lone striker role, and within moments, Kalogeras crosses from the left, Ronaldo heads off the crossbar again, and when Tsigalko can’t miss the follow up, you all know what happens: that’s right, it’s a goal kick. I just can’t quite fall in love with Tsigalko, even despite his outstanding record from last season.

The Atleti medical team are racing onto the pitch with a roll of duct tape in the 70th minute as we smash the frame of the goal for the fourth time in the match, this time through Mikel Arteta’s 20-yard volley that beats Prats but clangs back off the post. Prats saves three more Recoba free-kicks, Javi Moreno almost wins it for the home side with the last kick of the game but Voulgaris denies him, and after all that, we’re heading back to Seville with a 0–0 draw that they barely deserve. I’m happy to say we’ve battered Atlético Madrid today, but I’m not happy with just one point. Jimmy? Extra shooting practice for everyone this week, please. I want to see bleeding feet.

Disgustingly, that result takes us down to third and sees f — king Valladolid go top of La Liga. Valladolid! I check their results, and…

*removes sunglasses*

Dear god.

Who are these men?! They’ve beaten the two best teams in the league, comfortably! Okay, Barcelona and Real Madrid had a man sent off in each game, but Valladolid were already winning when they happened; they’re not just taking advantage of other teams having men sent off inside 20 minutes, like some sides from Seville I can think of. No… they’re actually besting them, 11 v 11.

I need to go home. I need the sanctuary of my drinks globe. I need a plan… because guess who’s coming to town?

And there’s more bad news; Tsigalko manages to squeeze in a game for Belarus U21s in between this and the Atleti match, and gets himself injured enough that it’ll put him out of contention for this game — not the news I needed. As a result, I decide to pull a rabbit out of my trousers and play my newly-acquired Dutch U21 Rogier Molhoek in midfield and push Ronaldo forward into AMC alongside Recoba. The lad has been in my inbox for his recent performances in training, resulting in a glowing reference from Jimmy Graham — and with strikers going down injured and my need to push the likes of Ronaldo into more advanced positions, it’s news that has come at a good time. Shearer will continue up top, and I’ll just have to pray that he can start getting shots on target again, while Tobros takes the armband in the absence of Victory, who’s been dropped for Kalogeras after the Greek put in a superb 45 minutes against the Mattress Makers.

Valladolid are… well, I mean, what do you say about them? Their squad, on the face of it, is garbage. Absolute hot garbage. Striker Pablo Guede is probably good enough to play in most La Liga teams, I suppose, but other than him, their players look like the sorts you’d find in the Segunda Division — because most of them are. It’s virtually the same squad that we knocked heads with last year. They’ve spent £12m on players in the summer and they’re barely improvements on the ones they already had; it’s genuinely incredible they’re where they are in the league. I think their attacking 3–5–2 is a big contributor; they’re flat and wide and hard to break down, but my 4–1–2–2–1 is like a heat-seeking missile. Good luck shackling this little lot, you purple bastards.

I check Valladolid’s tactics just after kick off, and… yeah. They’re taking the piss now. They’re dropping three men into DMC whenever we have the ball and playing a flat five at the back, I guess with all of them tasked with stopping Shearer. I’ve got a feeling there’s an elbow or two waiting for you.

Wor Al clips the post in the fourth minute as we take the game straight to our arch nemeses from the first whistle. Bizzarri then saves and holds a swerving Ronaldo drive, before Ito is forced off injured — and in the visiting dugout, I see Pepe Moré furiously scribbling on a piece of already soiled paper. This is getting ridiculous now.

Okay, so that’s going to be six at the back when we have the ball, but nobody in DMC. I see. I see what you’re doing. That’s a lie, I’ve got no idea what’s going on. I flick my players back to zonal marking because going man-for-man would put everyone out of position in amongst this nonsense.

Our domination of the ball continues all the way up to the stroke of half time, where I’m certain we’re going to take the lead: Duff throws in to Shearer, who takes a touch out of his feet before smashing an absolute piledriver at goal… Bizzarri saves, but Recoba is there on the rebound! RECOBA, SURELY! NO!! Bizzarri rises from the dead and tips Recoba’s follow-up effort over the crossbar! F — K OFF BIZZARRI!!

The referee blows for half time, and honestly, what am I meant to do about this. Everyone’s playing well on our side of things, we just can’t beat bloody Bizzarri — and with Moré changing from one outrageous formation to another every 15 minutes, I’ve got no hope of trying to counteract them. We just need to keep going and hope, upon hope, that something goes our way.

Recoba knocks a ball down for Molhoek to drive his first Coladeros shot on target in the 50th minute, but would you believe it, Bizzarri is there to block once again — and after he then tips a Recoba free kick wide, thus begins the rise of Valladolid. Suddenly, from out of genuinely nowhere, this team of ageing, rag-tag no-name nobodies begin to rain crosses and shots down on our penalty area, and for fully 20 minutes, Voulgaris — ably assisted by some timeless crunching from David Batty — keeps the league leaders at bay. He saves from Guede (2), Martínez (2) and Ania when he comes on, but we’re wobbling as the game reaches its closing stages…

…which is when Sergio Sestelo finds Ronaldo on the halfway line, and the Portuguese sets off on a mazy run. It’s the 95th minute. Ronaldo is past Dorado. He’s past Enguix. He’s past Peña!! Ronaldo skips into the penalty box! RONALDO SHOOTS FOR THE TOP CORNER!!

Wide. It’s wide, and it’s a second consecutive 0–0 draw against a “top” team. On the plus side, with the exception of Barcelona, we’re not losing to the sides around us, which is good news. However, on the other hand, we’ve just drawn 0–0 with a side 15th in the table, and then failed to beat Valladolid at home. I don’t care if they’re top of the league — we should be beating these plodders. Sigh — I shouldn’t grumble. We could have easily lost both those games, after all. Thank goodness for Voulgaris and Batty, eh?