Los Coladeros, Episode 46: The Hunt
The knowledge that Barcelona and Betis are fallible is a huge boost to our confidence as we storm into the second half of the season. A few games ago when they were the top two in the league with three games in hand apiece, it seemed like a seriously tall order to rein them in, and I was lower than a submarine on antidepressants. Now, with their defeats to Mallorca and Sevilla in the history books and Maxim Tsigalko firing on all cylinders, this title race is wide open.
If we’re going to win this division, we’re going to have to go through fire and fury to get there — and first up for the gauntlet is a daunting trip to the Mestalla, where we’ll meet a Valencia side that can cause serious damage. Newly augmented with German internationals Christian Wörns and Bernd Schneider and already featuring Santiago Cañizares, Bixente Lizarazu, Edgar Davids, Pablo Aimar and Djibril Cissé, it’s essentially a 2004 dream team. But we’ve got Maxim Tsigalko. When you’ve got the Hitman, you’ve got a chance.
I’ve decided to take three chances with my lineup for this game. Firstly, I prefer Nuno Mata to Teddy Lucic at right-back. Teddy is solid and dependable, but nothing more. Mata has something else about him; youthful exuberance perhaps, and the ability to play with proficiency in more than one position, but either way, I’ve decided to start him over the Swede. At centre-half, I don’t feel I can drop Tsikitsiris after his stellar performance against Zaragoza, so he remains in the side at the expense of Andrielos, who maybe needs a break, and is replaced by Tobros, who’s back from his suspension.
However, I’ve saved my boldest and possibly most suicidal change for last. With Shearer injured, Batistuta made of rice paper and Michael Dunwell recently having handed in a transfer request, coupled with the fact that Tsigalko seems to really love playing just behind a main front man, I’ve decided that 2004 will be Cherno Samba’s time to impress. He’s still quite young and very raw, but there’s no question he can become one of the world’s greats if he’s given the game time he needs to improve. And today, against one of the strongest defenders in world football, he’s going to get his chance. This could be one of the biggest mistakes I’ve ever made… or it could be the ascension of a new club legend. I guess we’re all about to find out.
After a cagey start that mainly sees Tsikitsiris take chunks out of any Valencia players that get within biting range, we’re the ones that make the first proper chance. Tsikitsiris robs Rufete this time, and feeds the ball forward to Ronaldo. Excelling in a deeper role, Cristiano sets off through the Valencia midfield and finds the feet of Cherno Samba, 20 yards from goal. Samba shuffles the ball out of his feet, and hits a piledriver at goal! What a save by Cañizares!! Victory runs up to the corner, Samba wins the header and nods down for Bergtoft, who can’t find the space to shoot — so he clips it back to the far post, Ronaldo heads down… TSIGALKO IS THERE! MAXIIIIMMMM! GOL GOL GOL GOL GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL COLADEROS! What a start! Samba is a nuisance right from the get-go, but our main man is on the scoresheet yet again!
Valencia are not content to stay behind for long, and set about us right from kick off. Cañizares snuffs out a one-two between Samba and Recoba and launches the ball straight out to Fábio Aurélio. Nuno Mata eventually stops his progress illegally, and when his free-kick finds the head of Pellegrino, Rufete gets there first — and just like that, the game is level again.
We strike straight back. Ronaldo finds Samba in a similar position from which he had that first shot on goal, but this time his effort sails harmlessly over the bar. Then, Samba takes a Recoba pass in his strike, takes a touch out of his feet, and drills a low shot that Cañizares gets down to turn around the post, then Bergtoft thunders an effort from range that the bleach-blonde stopper gathers safely.
We look the more likely as the half-time whistle approaches. Recoba finds Victory on the left, who plays a first-time ball to Ronaldo just inside him. Ronaldo finds Tsigalko, who goes out to Mata on the right. Mata gives it straight back to the Hitman, who gets to the byline, cuts back, Samba is there! CHERNO SAMBA! SCORES! GOAL! CHERNO SAMBA… NO! It’s disallowed! Mikel Arteta is ruled to be offside, even though he’s 30 yards back down the pitch! What fresh hell is this!
That’s half time, and man, what a frustrating first 45 that was. We surely should be leading after the chances we’ve had, but nevertheless, we remain on a knife edge at the break. I leave the team as they are for the start of the second period, and within a minute, Valencia should be a man down: Marchena ploughs through Samba with a reckless two-footed challenge that leaves the Golden Boy in a heap, but receives only a yellow for his troubles. It’s quite clear to see whose side the officials are on today. Who said that? It wasn’t me.
Victory, Ronaldo and Tsigalko then combine to put the ball on Samba’s head inside the box, but he can only nod wide with the goal yawning — and then, the sting in the tail. Aurélio skips past Mata once, then twice, and crosses deep into the box, where Rubén Baraja arrives unmarked to volley past Voulgaris and give the home side the lead with just over half an hour to go. I’m incensed, and it could get worse for us — just after the goal goes in, Alieu goes off and Djibril Cissé comes on to worried looks from both Tobros and Tsikitsiris. We’ve been the better team today overall, there’s no doubt about it; but at this point, we need a miracle.
It doesn’t look like it’s coming. Cañizares catches a victory free-kick, Bergtoft puts another long-range effort well wide, and Tsigalko misjudges a simple pass that the Valencia keeper collects with ease. The minutes tick by, and now it’s Los Ches on the move; Vicente puts a ball into the box, Cissé cushions a header back for Rufete to strike from the edge of the box — and his bent effort is bound for the top corner… until Voulgaris makes a fingertip save to tip it over the bar!! WHAT A SAVE VOULGARIS!
It’s a Valencia corner, and it’s time for a change. We’ve got to go all guns blazing. Samba has been rattled by that two-footer from Marchena and he’s a shadow of the man who bullied his way through the first half — so he comes out for the experience of Batistuta, Voulgaris — who might have made that last save, but otherwise he’s been a complete liability — is off for Pinheiro, and Lucic comes on for Nuno Mata, who hasn’t covered himself in glory wide on the right. The corner comes in, Ronaldo rises and pumps a header away, and it finds Batistuta on the edge of our box. Batigol, artificial knees and all, uses every last drop of his 8 for Acceleration to drive towards the Valencia box. Tsigalko charges up to meet him, takes the ball from him, then gives it back — the one-two takes Tsigalko into the box! He’s clear! TSIGALKO’S LOW DRIVE! IT’S PAST CAÑIZARES!! GOL GOL GOL GOL GOL COLADEROS! TSIGALKO DOES THE BUSINESS AGAIN! WE’VE DRAWN LEVEL! IT’S 2–2!!
After the day we’ve had, even though we’ve arguably been the better team… at this point, I’ll take a draw. The fourth official’s board is up. Valencia are pushing forward in numbers. We just need to keep them out. Tobros smashes a long clearance downfield that trickles all the way through to Cañizares. He rolls it out to Jean-Félix Dorothée at right-back, and he clips it inside towards Marchena… but Ronaldo steals the ball! Mistake by Marchena!! Valencia are in disarray! Ronaldo goes wide to Victory, who crosses first time! TSIGALKO IS UNMARKED!!
HNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL COLADEROS!! UNBELIEVABLE SCENES!! TSIGALKO GIVES US THE LEAD!
The referee restarts, Valencia go long, the ball finds its way to Cissé inside the box — the shot comes in! Pinheiro saves! AND IT’S OVER! What a comeback! What a result! We’ve beaten Valencia at the Mestalla!!
I run to the dugout and check the rest of the scores. I can hardly believe my eyes.
Barcelona have lost again. Betis have lost again. We’re top of the league. They’ve got games in hand that can take them above us, but for the first time in a long while, our fate is in our own hands. All we need is a win at the Manuel Ruiz de Lopera, and another one at the Nou Camp, plus to win every other game between now and the end of the season… and the title is ours. EASY.
And it gets easier. Betis have their game in hand at home to Valencia…
They’re bottling it. They can’t hack it. And elsewhere, in the Spanish Cup…
The absolute state of this result. Seriously. The wheels of our rivals are coming loose at exactly the time that we’re showing our title credentials.
And speaking of which, I’ve got a little more transfer business to report. With Recoba and Batistuta leaving and Campos and Costanzo out of favour, there’s a spot for another Foreign designated player in our squad. And who better than a moody, errant Argentinian U21 international striker who’s never played in Europe before? Welcome to Seville in six months, Luciano Figueroa! I’m sure this is going to work out juuuust fine. And if I change my mind before July 19th, I can always cancel it. I’m sure I won’t though. I love a maverick.
It’s my virtual birthday, and as such, I’ve asked Susan to order a mojito cake for delivery to my technical area during our forthcoming game against Athletic Club, another top six challenging side. We’re unbeaten in seven and have scored 19 goals in our last five games — but we’ve also only managed one clean sheet since November, and as such, I’m making a change in nets. Antonis Voulgaris has been an unexpected revelation since I brought him into the team, but his form has fallen recently, and I suspect the young man might need a rest. As such, my originally-planned number one, Franco Costanzo, can have another go at reclaiming the number one jersey, plus Teddy Lucic comes in for Nuno Mata at right back to hopefully give us a bit more grit.
Maxim Tsigalko fires an early warning shot across the Bil-bow, but after that, the Basque battlers kick and scratch their way into our half and refuse to leave. Costanzo saves from Exteberría and David Karanka, Tobros throws himself in front of an Aitor Karanka drive, the match engine tells me that Athletic are starting to attack even more, then Costanzo saves three more efforts from both Karankas and Bittor Alkiza. We’re coming under serious fire, we need an outlet — and Cristiano Ronaldo steps up to the plate. He’s really coming into his own in this withdrawn, roaming midfield role, and he finally stops the rot by latching onto a Tsigalko knockdown to smash a banana shot that Aranzubía does well to push wide. Victory takes the corner, but it’s smashed long by Larraínzar, Cuyami escapes from Tobros, takes the ball down, rounds Costanzo and taps into an empty goal to give the visitors a lead they definitely deserve, and if we don’t change something, we could get wiped out here.
I resist the urge to drag half my team into the dugout and instead shuffle them around slightly — and it seems to make some difference. Ronaldo wins a free-kick, Arteta clips it into the box, Tsigalko heads down to Ronaldo again, and the greasy haired assassin hammers another volley at goal that’s going into the top corner until Aranzubía launches himself through the air and punches it out for a throw. Bilbao are generally defending us well, and still manage chances of their own — Costanzo continuing to deny both Karankas with solid blocks — and as the half time whistle approaches and another corner is smashed back towards our penalty area, it feels like we’re going to have a lot to do after the break. Costanzo, however, wellies the clearance straight back down the other end, and with the referee checking his watch, Recoba flicks it left to Victory, he heads inside to Ronaldo, who takes the loose ball and plays a perfect pass into the area for Cherno Samba! Samba’s free inside the box!! CHERNO SAMBA’S DRIVE! GOAL COLADEROS!! WHAT A FINISH! Cherno Samba almost destroys the stanchion with his second goal of the season, and that’s 1–1!
And there’s still time for more before the break, as Victory robs Larrazábal on the left, surges down the line, crosses for Tsigalko to head down to Samba again, but this time the young Englishman volleys just wide of the mark just as the referee’s whistle goes. A fantastic end to an otherwise rough opening 45, and I’ve got changes to make.
Recoba’s head seems like it may have finally gone, so he’s out for Tonton, plus Mikel Arteta’s inconsistency has worn my patience down to a fine powder, so I lock him in the changing room toilets and tell Simen Brenne to strip off instead. With some strange looks, the players retake the field for the second half, and within minutes star defender Aitor Karanka is forced off injured after dancing too close to Samba — and it shears Athletic of both their captain and their confidence. Suddenly, we’re all over them: Samba strides forward with purpose, barging past David Karanka and spinning around Felipe on his way to laying off for Tsigalko — Orbaiz gets a toe in, but can only poke as far as Ronaldo on the edge of the box! RONALDOOOOOO!! WHAT A HIT! WHAT A GOAL! It’s an absolute rocket from Ronnie! 2–1 to the Wet Bandits!
Athletic try to stem the tide by bringing on a striker for a defender, but we only continue the assault on their goal. Tsigalko rattles the crossbar with a header from Victory’s corner, Aranzubía pushes away Moukoko’s shot from a Ronaldo knock-down, then claws away another Tsigalko header from the resulting set piece. Aranzubía, in fact, is keeping the visitors in the game by now, making three further stops from Tsigalko (2) and Tsikitsiris, before Joseba Etxeberría finally emerges into the game and shows his class. He caresses an Ezquerro long ball into his path and cracks a half-volley at goal that Constanzo has to be alert to tip wide, then attempts to chip the Argentinian but can only find the top of the crossbar. His cross for David Karanka is headed towards the top corner, but Frankie gets up to fingertip it over the bar — and when the resulting corner is cleared, we strike. Brenne takes a phenomenal touch in midfield to kill the ball into his path and hits a raking crossfield pass to Victory wide on the left. He goes down the line for Ronaldo, who flip-flaps past Larranízar and crosses to the far post, where Samba gets above Orbaiz to head past Aranzubía for 3–1 to the good guys! It’s a brace for Samba, and with just 15 minutes to go, this game is surely won!
Not quite. There’s still time for Costanzo to make three world-class saves from Karanka and Etxeberría, while Aranzubía cruelly denies Samba his hat-trick by saving a last-gasp header bound for the bottom corner, but as the final whistle goes, I launch what’s left of my cake into the stands, run onto the pitch and hug him as hard as I can — he, and Ronaldo, have won this game for us. It’s a fantastic victory that sets us up beautifully for our next game… at the Camp Nou.
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