Los Coladeros, Episode 78: Come Again?
With our Champions League group drawn and games against Arsenal, Celtic and — first — Milan to look forward to, our interim league game against Oviedo doesn’t feel that important. And, as such, I plan to put out a thoroughly unimportant team to face them just as soon as this international break is ove-
Well, that’s just f — king great. That injury takes Skalidis out of our games against Milan (H) and Arsenal (A), and its pointlessness is brought into sharp focus by the fact that he didn’t even start for Greece, he came on as a sub and lasted half an hour before being taken out with what I assume was an ankle-high wipeout by Ruslan Nigmatullin that went unpunished.
With that little piece of news banked just inside the drinks globe along with my diminishing sanity, I pour myself a stiff one and prepare to line up what was already going to be a reserve string against Oviedo. We return to our tweaked man-in-the-hole formation here, with all three of Moukoko, Ronaldo and Bruno supporting João Paiva up top. Iniesta will pull the strings in the centre — hear that, Andres? You will pull the strings. I know it’s your debut but I’m expecting a lot of both him and Con Blatsis, who’s given his debut at centre half. The rest of you, just… win please. I’m still upset about Anas. I can’t focus.
The first action of the game sees Lizarazu taken out on his way through to goal, and when Ronaldo confidently steps up and sends the keeper the wrong way, we leap off the diving board of uncertainty and into the “give them a good old thumping” pool.
Next up is a landmark moment. Raúl García tears forward with gay abandon, is tackled on the edge of the box, but the loose ball drops to Andrés Iniesta — and the young pretender curls it first time over Esteban and into the top-far corner to mark his debut with a stunning goal that doubles our lead at half time. A truly momentous moment that should be the pedestal from which we annihilate Oviedo, but they selfishly frustrate us for the rest of their half — probably this awful camo kit they’re wearing — and actually score a goal that I’d love to tell you about, but honestly, I can’t read the green and brown text on the bar. Suffice to say, at one point it flashes a colour that more than resembles something I have to void every morning and they’ve dragged themselves back into the game at 2–1.
It’s a classic Coladeros performance in the sense that some of our players — Ronaldo, Lizarazu — are on 9s and making things look easy, whereas others, namely Con Blatsis and Bruno, are on 6s and bringing absolutely nothing to the table. In the 63rd minute I frustratedly make all three changes, hooking Blatsis for Andrielos and Bruno for Kerr, while also withdrawing the ineffective Paiva and putting Luque on for a bit. And, to even my surprise, both my forward substitutes score almost immediately. Kerr runs straight onto the pitch, jumps, and heads a Lizarazu corner at goal — Esteban saves, but the Conqueror simply lashes home the rebound for 3–1. Three minutes later, Lizarazu again centres the ball and this time Luque pumps a header home for 4–1, and game over.
Although it’s not quite over for one man. In the very last minute of the game, Luque, Ronaldo and Moukoko feed Kerr on the edge of the box, he can’t find any space to turn, so he lays off for Iniesta, and the La Maisa prodigy repeats his first-half party trick with a first-time swerving drive that lashes past Esteban and home. Two goals for him, 5–1 the final score, exactly what I wanted to see — and perhaps a new superstar emerging.
There are only three days before we’re forced to welcome AC Milan back to La Cartuja for our first game in the second group phase of the Champions League. We met them at the same stage last season and they beat us twice, turning us over 3–2 at the San Siro and simply thrashing us raw at our place by four goals to one. It’s not really a game I wanted to repeat, especially now we’re shorn of Skalidis, but I guess this is the sort of tie you’ll have to overcome if you want to be the best team in Europe.
I obviously don’t need to tell you about their team. The only saving grace we have is that Alessandro Nesta might not play due to an orange-injury he’s still nursing on kick off day, plus they definitely won’t have Mauro Camoranesi… but there’s not a lot of solace for us to bathe in. This is still a team that has Abbiati, Simic, Seedorf, Ambrosini, Pirlo, Rivaldo, Inzaghi, and Shevchenko. It’s the tallest of tall orders.
Appropriately I hand Susan a vase and ask her to mix me the tallest gin and lemonade she can while I consider my own starting side. Tsigalko is in for Skalidis, there’s no doubt about that, and will line up just behind Luque; Iniesta isn’t in my CL squad since I didn’t expect him to be such an instant hit, so he has to drop out, but Kerr, Petrov and Davies return, with Tobros and Bonomi now my most trusted generals at centre-half. The rest of the team seems obvious by now; Kibebe has dropped right off after a stunning maiden campaign with us, but at the moment, Raúl García’s kick first, ask questions later approach is far more useful for us — especially against teams like this.
For all their household names, Milan manage to give me my first heart attack of the day through a player I’ve genuinely never heard of. With two minutes on the clock, Inzaghi drops a ball inside, and Davide Baiocco cracks a first time volley, on the run, that Voulgaris can only turn his head to watch fly past him… and clip the top of the crossbar on its way over. Susan? Where’s that drink?!
You’ll see from the lineups that Milan do risk Nesta at the heart of their defence and their gambit goes fully awry after just nine minutes as the great man is forced off. Simic trots on to replace him — great — as Kalogeras lines up a free kick on the edge of the Milan box. He looks down. Steps back. Takes a deep breath. Runs up… lashes a shot at goal! Abbiati can’t get there!!
HNNNNGGGGOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL COLADEROOOOOSS!! Giannis Kalogeras whips a free kick into AC Milan’s top bins with less than ten minutes on the clock — it’s 1–0 to the Wet Bandits! What a start!!
Amazingly, our goal rattles our vastly experienced visitors, and quite honestly, it’s only a standard superhuman performance from an opposition goalkeeper that prevents us from extending our lead. Abbiati is like a man possessed, and there’s nothing that Luque or Tsigalko can do to get the ball past him, no matter how hard they try. I’m beside myself with happiness at my team’s performance, but I’m also pulling fistfuls of hair out that we aren’t putting this game beyond Milan. By half time, we could be four or five up from the gilt-edged chances we’ve had — but as it is, we’re forced to settle for one.
The second half is far more even. We still have our chances from Luque, Petrov and Davies, but now Milan are starting to flex. My defence have coped remarkably with Shevchenko so far, to the point that when he finally appears in the commentary for the first time around the hour mark, I’d forgotten he was even playing — but playing he is, and he tests Voulgaris with two stinging drives that fortunately for us, our super Greek is equal to.
We’re still leading but I feel deeply insecure as the game enters its closing stages. 80 minutes on the clock still means plenty of time for heartbreak, but with Bonomi and Tobros kicking the proverbial out of Sheva and Inzaghi, Milan are going to have to come up with something else if they want to find an equaliser here. Bonomi then goes out to the right, covering Duff, and tries to take a chunk out of Roberto Carlos as he sets himself to cross — that’ll be a free kick Milan, in very dangerous territory.
Kaladze takes it, for some reason, and when I see his name, I’m not concerned — until Vitaly Kutuzov, on for Baiocco, gets ahead of the uncharacteristically flappy Voulgaris and nods home Milan’s equaliser. It was inevitable, wasn’t it? We’ve had eight shots on target to their two, but these top teams are so dangerous and potent that a 1–0 lead is never, ever enough. Especially if your name is Los Coladeros.
Deflated, the game kicks off again, and I’m expecting them to go down our end at least once more in this game and most likely score from the chance they create. Everything is black and red as Roberto Carlos marauds past Mike Duff and crosses towards Shevchenko, who rises to head me into a deep pit of melancholy… but Voulgaris claims it ahead of him! Voulgaris releases the ball to Petrov, who moves it on to Luque. Luque, Ronaldo, Tsigalko, Duff… this is an incredible, flowing counter attack! Mike Duff eats up the space left behind by Carlos, and delivers a ball into the box! Mark Kerr gets between Laursen and Simic! MARK KERR ON THE VOLLEY!
HNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL! GOL GOL GOL GOL GOL GOL GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL! LA CARTUJA ERUPTS! THE ROOF IS OFF! WE’VE DONE IT! MARK KERR HAS DONE IT, WITH JUST SECONDS TO GO!
Celtic also manage a great result of their own in Glasgow, running down Arsenal 2–0 with goals from Mads Jørgensen and Henrik Larsson, of course — so with one round of games over, we join the Scots in the box seats of Champions League P2 Group D. What a start!
Dear, dear. It’s going to take me some time to recover from that result. Absolute scenes all around La Cartuja for hours after the game — the Alameda is going to be bouncing all week!
—
After a solid three-day bender that has claimed Trevor Steven — I haven’t seen him since we got booted out of a library at 7am after mistakenly thinking it was a strip club — I collapse through the door of the away changing room to try to organise what’s left of my squad for our next game against Celta Vigo. Susan pours a bucket of water over my head and slaps me hard around the face, which does just about enough. You know what lads, we’ve got Arsenal next week, so all you heroes that played in Milan — you’re spared until then. Iniesta? Two more goals from you today please, lad.
This is just one of those games. They score after five minutes and then spend the next 80 relying on their goalkeeper to win them the game — and to be fair, it almost works, and he almost does. Almost… but not quite, because even though they’ve had ten men for half the game and we should be pulling them apart, we are forced to take a draw, which is better than nothing. Yes, someone does finally get us the equaliser. Can you guess who?
Scenes.
Incredible stuff from Iniesta — and his reward is to stay in the side for our next game against relegation shoo-ins Racing Santander. Lizarazu and Blatsis are injured today — one great loss — so Brandan comes in, but otherwise, we’re the same.
I’m officially sick of Nicolás Burdisso. He’s been one of the biggest disappointments of my Los Coladeros managerial reign. Although I suppose he’s not exactly surrounded by quality today, he doesn’t even attempt a tackle or a header in a first half that also sees Clint Hill do what he does best, destroying a hapless Racing forward as he weaves into the box, giving a penalty away in the process. The unpronounceable Txiki converts it, and thereafter, almost the entire game drifts by with only five further shots on target. Four of them are ours via Samba (2), Bruno and Moukoko, but in the 68th minute, someone called Igor Galibondo beats Ronaldo to a header inside our box and guides it past Palop for 2–0, and game over.
This is just… the worst result. I had to save people for the Arsenal game, which is in just two days’ time — so while I know it’s a pretty weakened team, I was given rather little choice in the matter. However, while I know Brandán and Chiellini are limited, the likes of Hill, Burdisso and Palop should put up more of a fight than they did. Quite frankly, three of my best players were complete shit, their keeper was good, and we’ve lost. Back to the drinks globe it is, then.
We could still go second if we win our game in hand and other results go our way, but on this evidence, there’s just no stopping Barcelona this season. Just look at them.
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