Real Sociedad and Sevilla lived in two parallel worlds in the same match. The people of San Sebastian seemed to be sitting in front of the blank page, with the eternal doubt of how to write the first paragraph. He lacked ideas, he lacked argument, the characters wavered. Neither Theo, nor Oyarzabal nor Willian José had a written dialogue. In those moments the anguish is triggered by not knowing what to say. The vacuum.
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On the other side of the line, Sevilla dressed his figures with the work diver. Banega, Navas, Vázquez or Sarabia tightened screws in an assembly line, anointed to the tactical corset established by Machín. If in the Real there was no script and there was no improvisation, in Seville, the libretto looked like the assembly manual of a washing machine, written in several languages, but equally indecipherable in all. This method does not generate anguish, but tedium, and in no case amusement.
If the two parallel worlds coincided in something, it was in their slowness. The party was moving preeminently. Even taking a corner cost a world, especially Sevilla, which in every action from the corner needed an interpreter for the kicker. As if the two teams feared the fines of some hypothetical speed radar, everything was moving in slow motion in Anoeta, from the beginning, when the premiere of the new version of the anthem – slower than the original -, delayed four minutes the serve kick.
There was no soccer, the goalkeepers were partying and only the theoreticians who recreated with the tactical details of the laboratory, could think that something interesting was happening on the grass. Show, of course not. Crumbling a theory of Einstein can be interesting, but does not produce emotions, it is clear, although everything is relative. A shot from Odriozola, with a certain intention, and another from Banega in the other area, did not make the game of his atony take off. In the Real, Elustondo and Januzaj were engaged on the right, although they did not find much interest in their companions; in Seville nobody escaped from the assigned task, they followed their screws.
Thanks to the demolition of the Anoeta grandstand, at least the high stands enjoy the view of the traffic of the Avenida de Madríd, and there the view went: to the traffic lights, to the pedestrians, to the cars, everything more dynamic that the football of Anoeta, that increased its speed in the second part, because unless it could not go, but the game was still as inane. Only Januzaj, like the hermit who makes his own tools, tried to make his own chances. Sandro appeared, who tried to score the second goal before the first. His precipitation penalized him when he was left alone in the area in the 73rd minute.
A counterattack by Sevilla around here, an attack of realistic pride over there, the final minutes remained the two parallel worlds of the two teams, each in his way of playing, of understanding things. So different, but just as boring. So until the final whistle, when many had already decided, definitely, look at the traffic of the Avenida de Madrid, among the ruins of the old grandstand in the background. And while, Garitano was still sitting before his blank sheet, with no ideas to write and no ink in the pen, Machín finished the game as he started it: writing down frantically in his notebook, standing in the technical area, the assembly instructions of his washing machine.