Rodrygo, Modric show why the Champions League is Real Madrid’s competition

MADRID — Real Madrid defeated Atlético Madrid 2-1 in Tuesday’s UEFA Champions League last-16 first-leg clash, giving the titleholders a narrow lead going into next week’s second leg at the Metropolitano.

Rodrygo put Real ahead in the fourth minute at the Santiago Bernabéu, before Julián Álvarez levelled with a stunning effort before half-time. The visitors Atlético then appeared to take control of the game, until Brahim Díaz put Real back in front against the run of play.

Los Blancos — who weren’t always convincing over the 90 minutes — could have added a third in added time but were twice denied by some last-ditch defending, to leave the tie open going into the return leg on March 12.

The UCL really is Rodrygo’s stage

Another Champions League game, another brilliant, crucial goal scored by Rodrygo. His fourth-minute strike — brushing off Javi Galán’s challenge, stepping away from Clément Lenglet and firing past Jan Oblak — put Real Madrid ahead, giving them an early advantage that they didn’t always deserve as the game went on.

The Brazil star is so consistently good in the Champions League — he was outstanding against Manchester City in both legs of the knockout phase playoff, too — that he’s no longer underrated. It’s just that Kylian Mbappé and Vinícius Júnior still get more headlines. But Rodrygo deserves them, too.

His 25 Champions League goals for Madrid, in 61 games, put him eighth in the list of the club’s all-time goal scorers in the European Cup. The seven players ahead of him are, quite literally, among the biggest names in Real Madrid’s history: Cristiano Ronaldo, Karim Benzema, Raul, Alfredo di Stéfano, Ferenc Puskás, Paco Gento and Vinícius.

Rodrygo isn’t that good, of course. But he is an exceptional player — Jude Bellingham has said he’s the most naturally talented in the squad — who’d be a star at any other club. He’s also happy to work off the ball, dropping back to help out his midfield teammates, in a way that the Real front line’s other big names aren’t always willing to do.

It’s testament to Rodrygo’s performances this season that one of the big talking points going into this campaign — whether the Brazilian would have to drop out of the XI to make room for Mbappé — just isn’t up for debate anymore. — Alex Kirkland

There was just as much drama on the sideline

While battle raged all around them, and rage it did, the two managers were stark studies in how to handle stress.

Real Madrid boss Carlo Ancelotti and his Atlético counterpart, Diego Simeone, have seen it all before as both players and coaches. The pressure, the demands from the fans, the prematch dilemmas, the mercurial madness of the 90-plus minutes.

Indeed, Ancelotti and Simeone are, with a thousand games coached in Spain between them, experienced enough to feel Teflon-tough about the heat of a cauldron like this.

But oh how differently they coped.

Both dressed in Johnny Cash black, both trying to influence things, but one of them — Simeone — a study in constant, frantic, frenetic motion. The other, Ancelotti, hands initially clasped behind his back as he strolled around his technical area, back sometimes turned to the fray, as if he were a happy pensioner wandering through Madrid’s Retiro park on a balmy Sunday.

But to spoil Ancelotti’s enjoyment of that pastoral paseo, there was a hurdy-gurdy man immediately to his right. I know we know every available piece of data for every player — their kilometres run, intensity, heart rates, sprints, lung capacity. But do we have data as to how many kilometres El Cholo put in? I’d say that Simeone won’t be far off some of his players — and certainly far ahead of his goalkeeper Oblak.

The thing about Simeone is that, his genius achievements notwithstanding, he’s full of redundant gestures. “Slow it down!” he gesticulates frantically after Rodrigo De Paul or Antoine Griezmann has already slowed an attack to a walking pace. “Get back … GET BACK!” Simeone screams as Galan or Marcos Llorente already races to cover a galloping break by Rodrygo. Are they listening to him? Can they hear him above the industrial noise level maintained by two sets of fans who really don’t like each other very much?

Which is not to say that Ancelotti is a passive passenger. His gestures are of either horror or insistence. Eduardo Camavinga is robbed by Lenglet, and Carlo’s arms are aloft. He can’t believe the naivety. Madrid don’t pass quickly enough or often enough to Vinicius and he’s point, point, pointing — jabbing out his insistence that the ball goes to Madrid’s No. 7.

It’s a sideshow, but a fun one. Two men with the world on their shoulders for 94 minutes, prisoners of the touchline and the UEFA officials sheepdogging them back inside their technical areas.

Torture I tell you, pure torture. Poor guys. You’d be heartless not to feel for them. — Graham Hunter

Álvarez showing why Atléti fought so hard to sign him

In a game with three memorable goals, Álvarez’s might just have been the best of the lot. It was more evidence — maybe the most compelling piece yet — of why Atlético, and in particular Simeone, were right to work so hard to sign the Argentina international last summer. He’s an elite forward, capable of moments of genius like this. He’s also a Simeone true believer: a humble, hard worker who fits perfectly into the team.

Álvarez has been in Madrid for only seven months, but he’s already scored twice at the Bernabéu. He netted here in LaLiga last month, too. This was also his second, huge goal in just three days, having scored the winning goal against Athletic Club in the league on Saturday to see Atléti leap above Real in the title race.

It’s March, and Atlético are still battling for the league title, the Champions League and the Copa del Rey. That’s in part because they’re boasting one of the best forwards in the world in their front line.

It’s now 22 goals in all competitions this season, and seven in nine Champions League games. This was the biggest and best goal yet, and it’s a goal which means Atlético go to the Metropolitano next week with a chance of eliminating Real Madrid and going through to the quarterfinals. — Kirkland

Even at 38, even off the bench, Modric is a joy to watch

Even though he came on at 2-1 and the scoreline did not change, people will say that Luka Modric, the clever, ageless, majestic Croat “changed” the game.

Maybe so. The tempo altered; Madrid’s control of the ball changed. This much is true. But watching Modric is like watching withering, tired flowers on the edge of a desert being tickled back into life by autumn rain. When Madrid’s 38-year-old magician strolled onto the pitch, it was like watching Robert De Niro take control of a film. Everyone knows that “the best” just took the stage, everyone knows that he’s going to stand out and do, brilliantly, what he has done forever and ever. Everyone knows that those around are going to benefit from playing off him.

Modric breathed new life through every single player in a white shirt. Instead of hoping that they were in the right place, praying that they were going to receive a good pass, they knew.

Real relaxed in a good way: good vibrations throbbed through them as if the 1967 Beach Boys had just hit the recording studio — everyone simply started doing the simple things well, more quickly, with more confidence and more efficiency.

It’s not necessarily always spectacular, but watching it is soothing. You know that a superior power is acting, you know that it was right to have faith, and you can see that the congregation believes again. Back and forward Modric trotted, faithfully giving and receiving, receiving and giving. Adding class, marking out the beat … showing everyone, without a “tut tut” or a frown, how it should have been all along.

Modric the marvel. How lovely it was to watch him preaching his football gospel. — Hunter

Both goalkeepers stood no chance

It’s testimony to the outright extraordinary nature of the goals we saw on Tuesday that this match boasted two of the best goalkeepers in the world — some might argue the two best — and yet each of them was utterly helpless as the Champions League ball soared past them and into the net.

It felt like each of the goals was more remarkable than the last, and the expressions of the faces of Thibaut Courtois and Oblak went some way to emphasising that.

The first, Rodrygo’s blindingly good left-footed drive to set the match alight, felt like it wouldn’t be bettered. Federico Valverde laser-guided his assist into space, and then, when the Brazilian cut across two rivals to score off his left foot, the arc of the ball was just beautiful; starting outside Oblak’s reach and then curving exquisitely past his outstretched right arm into the far corner. Without being fanciful, it felt like the goal was one long electric connection from Valverde to Rodrygo to the net. The pass, the finish and the net bulge were like one intertwined piece of magic.

But when Atléti equalised, Courtois looked beyond bemused — he looked perplexed. That Álvarez managed to produce the power and the bend on his shot to beat the behemoth Belgian was quite something. But Courtois had to take a look behind himself, just to make sure “Did that ball really go past me?” He looked as if he were scratching his head and trying to come to terms with it for quite some time.

Ditto Oblak for the winning goal. He couldn’t believe that Brahim had dribbled a couple of Atléti defenders in a space no bigger than the inside of a sardine can. The little Malagueño did that thing which Lamine Yamal loves doing: The tango, the rumba, the hip-sway — all without actually touching the ball, all lying to rival defenders that “I’m going this way … NO! I’m going that way now!”

It was magical, mischievous and, in due course, unstoppable. Oblak chewed a wasp, unhappy to be beaten, unhappy with his defence. Just plain, plumb unhappy.

A match with two gargantuan goalkeepers, greats of their genre — without a single sniff of being able to do anything about the three goals. And let us all be thankful for that. — Hunter