The first question that rises from the debris of Real Madrid’s reputation is this: Was last night at the Stadio Delle Alpi a blip on their graph, the aberration to the norm, or was it the norm? Put another way, is their defeat a surprise? And put yet another, near-blasphemous, way: Are they really great? We’ve all been seduced by their skills, fallen under their magic spells. Anyone who saw their first half of the first leg against Manchester United in the Champions League quarter-finals three weeks ago would have been heard their sweet harmonies blending into a symphony that drowned out United’s plebeian street-cries. The escape route If Real’s season-ticket holders were nervous before, they’re probably frothing at the mouth now. After shelling out $200 million on buying the world’s three best players, and $120 million to pay their wages, and those of their teammates, Real Madrid could end up with no silverware this season. It could be the Ashoka of footballing seasons: as expensive, as sensuous, as other-worldly — and ultimately as big a flop. To recover, Real need to buy a defender or three and a midfield cover for Makalele. But their style of buying a big name — a striker or creative midfielder — may rule this out. Then again, will they spend for footballing or for commercial reasons? Their target still seems to be David Beckham, for the potential money he can bring in for them in Asia. He is superfluous to their more pressing needs at present, but since when did Real stop to think about such things? — J.G. But is greatness measured in scintillating 45-minute spells or by the surer scale of time? And would Real’s legion of fans be willing to exchange that match at the Bernabeu, with all its thrills, for a disciplined, gritty show last night that would have taken them through to the final? Indeed, the signs of frailty have been evident throughout Real’s pretty ordinary season, which sees them in danger of ending up with no silverware save the Intercontinental Cup. Not bad for a team hailed as one of the greatest. They currently sit third in the Primera Liga, exited the King’s Cup at the quarter-final stage and return from Turin tails between legs. They’ve struggled to maintain form — their longest unbeaten run covering all competitions is 10 matches — and nothing shows up their weakness better than the fact that Valladolid, lying 14th in the league table, have conceded four fewer goals (34) than have the Masters of Madrid. And a team that lets in four goals four times in a season — twice to Mallorca, once each to Manchester United and Sociedad — can’t blame it all on luck, injury or the rain in Spain. The reason seems clear to me: Real are not a team at all. They are a collection of stars and, when all — or a critical mass — are on fire, they can light up the footballing world. When the sparks fail to catch fire, when the parts don’t make a sum, they might as well concede the match. They have two main problems. One, a team that depends on magic can’t afford to run out of magicians; Real’s weakness yesterday was the lack of cover for the anonymous Zidane, Raul and Figo. There was no one else to turn on the style, to take the attack to Juventus. And, as this paper noted last week, Real don’t believe in a Plan B. They turn up for a match expecting to win; not out of arrogance but, as with the West Indies cricketers of old, an inability to think any other way. If it works, they’ll probably score half a dozen goals. If it doesn’t, they’ll stand by and watch. This attitude works well in cup competitions, where every match is an occasion to strut their stuff under the spotlight. And, thanks to the expanded Champions League format, Real don’t have to win La Liga to play in Europe; they can leave that business to others while they focus on the bigger tournament. Their second problem is their leaky defence, shown up pitifully yesterday. It’s not just the ageing Hierro or the wandering Roberto Carlos; the problem stems from the midfield, which last night was overrun by the black and white of Juventus. Indeed, for all the hype over Real’s absent or injured stars, the player most sorely missed was Claude Makalele. Without his protection, the back four were exposed to Trezeguet and Del Piero; without his stability, the midfield blown away by Davids and Nedved. That’s Real for you; any player can score goals, few can stop them. It’s probably not unfair to say that the difference between Real and Manchester United over two legs was a United midfield lacking Roy Keane at his best. Similarly, a significant factor in Arsenal’s losing the Premiership was their being deprived of Patrick Vieira for the crucial run-in. Which raises the second question: Do Real attack because they can’t defend? Is their style, like that of Arsenal — and that’s not the only similarity between the two clubs, you’d have noticed — a cover for their frailties rather than a credo in itself? The answer, till they can prove otherwise, appears to be yes.
