Imanol got up from the press room after the game and, surely not wanting anyone to see him, cursed the nonsense: “Mecagüen su p…”. There, just in time, he caught himself. The image came to this newsroom through the live broadcast offered by the League, so it turns out to know if it was a cry to heaven or a whisper of anger. What difference does it make. It was clear that the coach was not amused by a serious defeat.
It is worth putting your hand on the fire because Imanol’s anger was with the unjustifiable refereeing action, so close to the end. The coach has seen enough football in his life to know that Rico protected the ball and cut Pepelu into a natural stance. Players stretch, move, wave their arms because they need to be aerobic in the most demanding art of sport for a human being: defending with the feet. Referees make decisions very lightly and disrespect themselves, their own profession, when they venture to rip apart a game that doesn’t need their nonsense. How easy it was for Alberola to award a penalty in a play that he did not even invite him to intervene.
That is why Imanol asked for respect, but behind his rude vocalization -he is forgiven, it was almost twelve o’clock, not children’s hours- there could be the desperate pathology of the Real: he does not score a goal or the Arc de Triomphe. He also spoke about it, asserting, with every reason in the world, that “there is no bad luck” in football because he believes that “it does not exist”. That’s how it is.
Miramón holed the ball into the post strain at 1-0 because he finished off properly; Silva equalized because he headed a great cross from Gorosabel flawlessly; Melero defined the penalty skilfully tricking Remiro. None of the three goals was good luck, but boasts of the finishers. Not like the rest of the gazillion shots from Real. Of course, it is to swear in Aramaic.
