Los Coladeros, Episode 82: Milan and Arsenal
I’ve almost forgotten about that horrendous run we were on just a month or so ago. We’re now unbeaten in nine and have won our last seven in a row — not a bad way to prepare for our final two Champions League Phase 2 Group games against AC Milan at the San Siro, then Arsenal at La Cartuja. The group is so finely poised that we’ll almost definitely need to win one of those ties; it is true that two draws would see us through, but there’s no way I’m playing for draws. We go to win.
First though, we’ve got a couple of La Liga games against Villarreal and Zaragoza. Let’s get those out of the way, and see if anyone on our side can step up to the plate. The Yellow Submarine are first.
The first half is deeply frustrating as my players create nine (9) excellent chances that are all put off-target. Villarreal create nothing, but as I start the second half, I feel like this has got 1–0 champing written all over it. However, Yaya Touré takes just ten minutes of the second half to get our first effort on target, a powerful header from Lizarazu’s cross that flies past Reina and finally gives us the lead.
Then, after 20 more minutes of blasting shots into the crowd, Maxim Tsigalko comes on for the injured Paiva, plants a header at Reina, the Queen parries, but Simon Davies laps up the loose ball and drills it home for 2–0 with just 15 minutes to go.
Naturally Villarreal put their only shot on target in the whole game a few minutes later to make it 2–1, but with the final whistle in the referee’s mouth, Nikos Andrielos gets up to head a Davies corner in off the far post to complete the scoring. Five shots on target, four goals, awful goalkeeping all round, but 3–1 to the Wet Bandits, so I’m not complaining.
With a trip to the San Siro looming, I leave my second string pretty much intact for our trip to bottom-of-the-table Zaragoza. Just a couple of changes — Chiellini gets a glowing review from Trevor Steven so he starts, Eldar comes into AMC, and Tsigalko goes up top in place of the now-injured João Paiva.
We’re 2–0 down at half time because my defenders and goalkeeper are already on holiday, so I go nuclear for the second 45.
If Voulgaris could have found it within himself to make a single save, we might have picked up a point there. A disastrous first half that proves Con Blatsis isn’t good enough (I know, shocker) and Andrielos only plays well from the bench makes way for a second half where we are actually all over Zaragoza and finish the game having created twice as many chances as them. Of course, we put 70% of them off target, opening the door for them to score a third before Ronaldo gets the goal that might have earned us a point, you know, if we weren’t hopeless.
We wouldn’t be Los Coladeros if we didn’t concede goals left, right and centre, so it’s not all bad. We’re now ten points off the top after Barcelona beat Atlético Madrid at the Camp Nou, but we’re well within the top four and, therefore, Champions League qualification for next season. Not that we’ll need it, of course, because we’re going to win the whole thing. He said, sipping his ninth vermouth of the morning.
And that pipe dream begins within the titanic pillars of the San Siro, where AC Milan await us once more. They were at least half responsible for breaking our hearts last season when they beat us home and away as we plummeted to third on the final day of the group — but having already bested them at La Cartuja this season, and with a far stronger side than we had 12 months ago, I feel renewed confidence this time around. Misplaced, I’m sure, but still — it’s there.
I mean, they’ve got Abbiati, Nesta, Laursen, Simic, Pirlo, Inzaghi and Shevchenko; there’s not a lot to be excited about. Rivaldo will probably miss out as he’s orange-injured, but to be honest, it barely weakens them. There’s no question that a draw here would be a phenomenal result… but we don’t play for draws. We’re the Wet Bandits. We slip in, pull your pants down and Chugger away, laughing into the night. Or we get annihilated and never quite recover. We are Team Extreme.
Let’s see which one this starting XI goes for. We’re back to all-but full strength, with just one regular name missing: Giannis Kalogeras, who I hadn’t realised was suspended for this one, and is replaced by the slightly unfit Bixente Lizarazu — but it’s hardly a weakened side. The Frenchman has been tremendous in the games he’s played, so I trust him to do the business. The right side of my midfield three was also a tough call, but after two pretty good games out there, I decide it’s possible that Simon Davies has gotten over whatever was eating him, so he starts. I’m extremely nervous, but we’ve got to go for this. Let’s see what Milan have got.
They’ve got quite a lot, as you can see from their lineup, and unfortunately, we are forced to endure a hellish first half. 32-year-old Pippo Inzaghi is our surprise tormentor-in-chief, though I guess it shouldn’t be that much of a shock considering he’s still world class, but after 16 minutes, he’s put us two goals down. He first collects a Shevchenko pass, dances around Tobros — which shouldn’t be possible, but there you go — and enters full piss-taker mode by flicking the ball up and somehow hitting a left-footed volley that explodes past Voulgaris to give the hosts the lead.
Six minutes later, he’s running at our defence again — but this time, neither Tobros nor anyone else even attempts to make a challenge, and if you’re going to let that happen, punishment shall follow. Inzaghi bears down on our goal and simply places a shot past Greek Tony into our bottom corner, and with the first two chances of the match, we already look dead and buried. The only amusement I’m getting from the game is the referee, Mr Ruggles, and when he books Martin Laursen I see the tiniest shard of light. If we can get them down to ten men, maybe we’ll have a chance to sneak our way back into this game.
Nope. Shevchenko tests Voulgaris twice, once with a lob, then a close-range header — and it’s third time lucky for Sheva, as he gets between Tobros and Bonomi like they aren’t even there and thumps home Milan’s third. We haven’t even played half an hour.
The game is clearly over, even before Tobros gives Milan a penalty for shoving Inzaghi to the ground — but Kakha Kaladze drills it straight at Voulgaris to keep the score at just three-nil. Skalidis gives us a glimmer of hope right on half time as he latches onto a Simon Davies through ball and hammers past Abbiati for 3–1 at half time, but we have little to no impact on Milan in the second half. The clock clicks from 45 to 80 minutes with no action, and even though I throw a load of subs on to try to sneak anything in the final ten minutes, it simply allows Massimo Ambrosini to canter forward and clip home a rebound from Inzaghi’s final shot on target of the day for 4–1 to the home side at the final whistle. We were never in this game, even for a second.
We have been routed there, and the performance to go along with it was truly, exceptionally bad. I’d like to say Milan made us look poor, but no, we can definitely take all the credit for that ourselves. It was like a playground team entering a prison league. And with Arsenal’s narrow home win against Celtic also in the history books, it leaves the group looking like this with one game to go, and once again, we’ve left ourselves with a lot to do if we want to reach the knockout phase. Specifically, we need to best the Gunners at La Cartuja. Nothing else will do.
Unfortunately, there’s no let up in the league. Next up we’ve got Real Sociedad, who have snuck past us into third after our dreadful loss to Zaragoza. I, however, don’t want to risk any of my “best” players, whatever that even means any more, so we’re back to the second string for this one. I’m pretty much just praying somebody steps up and does the business.
Thank god for that. Eldar does what we all know he can do, firing home a superb brace to bookend the scoring — and in between, Diego skins three La Real players on the way to scoring a sensational solo goal. Naturally we allow our opponents a nice easy chance to score, which Simão takes gratefully right on the stroke of half time, but otherwise, this game is all us, and in fact, we’re quite impressive, I have to say.
What is my strongest team now, I hear you ask? No idea, lads. No idea at all. The only thing I can tell you is this: it doesn’t feature the Iceman, who I’ve never really warmed to, and is now our primary misfiring misfit. Never mind, though — we’ve got Eldar, and Ronaldo is inbound in the summer. All is fine.
It’s a very useful win indeed. We squash the Royal Society’s face into the dirt as we climb over their corpse and back into third place behind Real Madrid and Barcelona. We’re eight points behind the leaders now, and it’s probably silly to dream about overhauling them and retaining our La Liga title… but I don’t know. I think it’s still possible. I might well have brain damage from all the drinking, but if you can’t get happy fever dreams from your hangover sweats, you’re doing something wrong.
Right then. Arsenal are on their way to La Cartuja, and there are decisions to be made. Tsigalko is out of the squad for Eldar, no question. Simon Davies is back in since I’ve just noticed he’s got a 7.68 average rating this season and is, statistically, our best midfielder. I let out a loud, wall-trembling groan.
The rest of the team kinda picks itself; it’s just my bench that gets a bit of an upgrade. Iniesta, Diego and Eldar all come in, and man… it basically all comes down to this, doesn’t it? If we lose here, our dream is over. Yet again. A win takes us through to, I’m sure, a horrendous knockout round tie against a Man Utd or Bayern Munich. Either way, I’m stressed. Very stressed indeed.
It would be nice if Arsenal had any injuries, but they don’t. Both teams are full strength, I’ve got a pint of wine balanced on top of the dugout, the referee starts the game… and we’re off. God speed, my boys.
It’s the cagiest of openings from both sides, with lots of probing long balls that are easily swept up by both goalkeepers — who then start simply cutting out the middle men and punting free-kicks and goal kicks all the way to one another, perhaps trying to break the deadlock themselves. Neither manage it though, obviously, and it takes 26 minutes for an actual chance to arrive in the game — and it’s ours. Simon Davies is a man reborn in midfield, and when he sets up Kerr on the penalty spot, I’m already out of my seat and uppercutting the sky in anticipation of 1–0 — but Rami Shaaban defies all logic and physics to turn the Scot’s half-volley around the post. I can’t believe it, and it gets worse: Kerr has pulled up after hitting the shot and is going to be forced off. It’s my first big call of the game, and I make it. Andrés Iniesta is in as my replacement free role roaming central midfielder. Please baby Jesus, don’t let that be a horrible mistake.
Kalogeras whips the corner into the box, Luque catches it on the volley! Shaaban pushes it away, but it’s still in play! Petrov collects, Shabaan blocks his route to goal, so Stan goes back to Davies, he crosses first time! Skalidis is at the far post!! SKALIDIS SHOOTS!!
HNNNNNNGGGOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLLLL COLADEROS! ANAS SKALIDIS FINALLY BEATS SHAABAN! IT’S 1–0 TO THE WET BANDITS!
Now all we need to do is hold it. Not make any mistakes. Not wet the bed at the first opportunity. Bonomi wipes out Kanu, Ljungberg pops the free-kick into the box, and Ray Parlour volleys past Voulgaris for 1–1. Within five minutes. Lovely stuff.
I’m sorry to tell you that we basically fall to pieces after that. Thierry Henry is all over the commentary for the remainder of the half, and only three super Voulgaris saves keeps the scores level — but after the break, the legendary French striker can’t be suppressed. Albert Luque clangs a rangy drive off the post at the other end that would give us a vital lead, but from that rebound, Ashley Cole thumps the ball clear, Henry collects, gallops through my back four and hits a furious strike into the top corner to make it 2–1 to the visitors, and not only are we losing — we now need two second half goals to progress. We’re back down to third in the table, and all of a sudden, our hopes of getting through yet another Phase 2 group are all but dashed.
When you need a hero, Anastasios Skalidis is the man you want on your side. The guy literally doesn’t know the meaning of the word “defeated” — I’ve asked him, he really has no idea. Less than ten minutes after around 15,000 Ultras have taken their heads from their hands, Bonomi destroys Henry with — thankfully — a fair challenge and pops the ball inside to Davies. He exchanges passes with Petrov, lays it inside to Raúl García, and his whipped ball into the box evades Hyypia, Skalidis leaps above Steve Howey! SKALIDIS!
YES! It’s 2–2, with half an hour to go, but my god — we’re still third. We’ve half-dug ourselves out of the hole we put ourselves in, but it’s not going to be enough. We need more. We just need one more. COME ON.
Iniesta hits a ball ahead of Davies, who charges into the area and strikes low and hard — Shaaban’s fingertips divert it wide. Corner Coladeros. Kalogeras runs over, puts the ball down, whips it into the box… SIMON DAVIES RISES LIKE THE MIGHTY SALMON!
SIMON DAVIES!!
HNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLL!! SIMON DAVIES MAKES IT 3–2! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT! WE’RE BACK IN FRONT!!
Okay, panic stations. Half an hour to go, we’re going through, but Arsenal’s claws are coming out. Arsène Wenger roars his players forward to siege our penalty area, knowing they just need an equaliser to send us crashing out of the Champions League. Kanu fires over the bar. Henry clips the outside of the post. My defence are doing their best, but we’re rocking. La Cartuja is electric.
I bring Eldar on for Luque, who’s been too quiet in this game, and hope he can offer us some relief. Kanu finds Ljungberg wide on the right, he gets past Kalogeras for the umpteenth time, and crosses to Henry, six yards out… wide! Wow, that is just… amazing. Thierry Henry has missed a sitter. I can’t believe what I’m seeing.
Seconds later, Nikolaos Tobros plows through Kanu with a two-footed challenge on the edge of the box, but the referee only flourishes a yellow card — an enormous let off. He should definitely be gone. Cole puts the free-kick into the box but Voulgaris claims bravely, thank christ. I really can’t see Henry missing another chance. We need to keep the ball away from him.
Davies lines up a free-kick at the other end as we tick into the 94th minute, but he chooses to blast it straight into the wall rather than keep possession… and Arsenal have it back. They swarm forward. Scheider finds Koumas wide on the left, who crosses towards Henry. He wins the header against Petrov but can only knock back to Ljungberg. I’m watching through my fingers as Ljungberg goes back to Koumas, who whips another ball into the box… it’s towards Henry. Henry leaps.
Lizarazu beats Henry in the air and flicks it away! Tobros smashes the ball downfield! The referee blows his whistle! IT’S ALL OVER! WE’VE DONE IT! WE’RE INTO THE QUARTER FINALS OF THE CHAMPIONS LEAGUE!!
And the cake is iced by our good friends in Glasgow, as Celtic overcome Milan 1–0 at Celtic Park to leave us not only qualified for the next round, but sitting pretty at the top of the group. What an unbelievable finish to this Champions League phase. I am genuinely struggling to believe it.
We’ve lost Mark Kerr for three weeks, which is a major blow, but we just beat Arsenal without him — we’ve got to believe we can go further. The only question is… who’s next?
Well, well, well. I’ve never wanted to beat them more.
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