Ban City, Hellish Håland, & Other Feels from the CL Round of 16
Kevin de Bruyne, as per, co-orchestrated Manchester City’s masterclass away at Real Madrid. Pep Guardiola helped too.
Real Madrid 1, Manchester City 2 - Santiago Bernabeau, Madrid.
I was as perplexed as you were: Gabriel Jesus, a very decent forward, lining up at left back for the outgoing champions of England. (The Premier League title could be Liverpool’s as soon as March.) Belgian maestro Kevin De Bruyne playing so high up the field is the sort of nonsense you pull around midnight after several hours of FIFA, but Pep Guardiola went for it and City left with the W. The Cityzens, and Lord how I resent that nickname, never looked the least bit uncomfortable - even when they were a goal down.
Of course every time City win a game now, especially in Europe, the results will bear the heft and symbolism of middle-fingery towards UEFA, who’ve adjudged City to have cooked their financial fair play (FFP) submissions, and consequently banished from European football’s most prestigious contest for two entire seasons. I have characteristically renegade views of FFP, which you’ll be able to ingest right here in the next few days.
Borussia Dortmund 2, Paris St. Germain 1 - Westfalenstadion, Dortmund.
All the younger persons at my futsal meet-up felt that Kylian Mbappe and Neymar Santos, arguably two of the five best players in the game currently, looked off a step against Dortmund. I disagreed with that, and also young persons’ excessive use of Snapchat. What a game this was! Mbappe and Neymar’s link-up was at times telekinetic, the way they shared passes in Dortmund’s final third, particularly for an equalizing strike on goal. But no one on earth was ready for Erling Bråut Håland, who hails from a planet even NASA have never heard of.
Dortmund’s massive Norwegian is, to me, already the most fearsome striker in world football. The man is 6 foot 4, runs like he’s 5' foot 7 (I would know), and boy oh boy can he whack a football. He cracked a winner past Keylor Navas with the side of his boot and I’m telling you, NO HUMAN BEING CAN ACHIEVE THAT SORT OF HEIGHT OR PACE ON ANY SHOT WITH THE SIDE OF THEIR BOOT. Not even at futsal.
If you don’t own a Dortmund shirt, or I suppose a Real Madrid one, be very, very afraid.
Atalanta 4, Valencia 1 - Stadio Atleti Azzurri d'Italia, Bergamo.
A Chelsea fan and football savant has advised me to give Atalanta a look before European football does what it does and allows bigger teams to pick their squad apart in the summer. They play with so much reckless abandon, he alleges, that one must wonder if they realise they happen to be an Italian team.
This tie reeks of overturn potential, because Valencia (too) are a moody little football team.
Chelsea 0, Bayern Munich 3 - Stamford Bridge, London.
I found less joy than one might expect in Chelsea’s brutal humbling, in their own kitchen, at the hands of those ruthless Germans - perhaps because Bayern didn’t go ahead and score seven goals, as they did against my beloved but also lacklustre Tottenham Hotspur(s). There is considerably less hope of a result for the Blues in the return leg at Munich, in the spectacular Allianz Arena, where Bayern fans will take every possible opportunity to recite the tune of ‘Seven-Nation Army’, when everyone knows full well a football team is only made of eleven people. Maniacs.
I also don’t expect Olympique Lyonnais and Atletico Madrid to sustain first leg leads over Juventus and Liverpool respectively, who are too talented in attack to not burn the bloody house down at home.
