An erratic side have been flawless since the league turned into a mini-knockout contest. Now the writing seems on the wall
Casemiro couldn’t look but pretty much everyone else could see. Crouched right on the centre spot, the Real Madrid midfielder turned his back and brought his hands to his face. To the left, Éder Militão stood by him, gently laying a hand on his shoulder. Fifty metres away Athletic’s Iker Muniain was pacing, blood boiling. “Explain it, then,” he was demanding. “Always the effing same. Not even you lot can understand it.” And to the left of him Sergio Ramos was waiting to take a penalty, blood running cold. He was 12 yards from goal or “11 metres closer to the title” as Marca put it, which was easy to say afterwards.
Easy to say at the time too, at least for some. There were 17 minutes remaining, a little over four games left at the end of the longest season, and it was 0-0 at the ground they call the Cathedral – the last great obstacle between Madrid and the league. There was a lot at stake but if Casemiro was nervous, he needn’t have been. There was silence, the place not the same when the only spectator is the bust of Pichichi. And Ramos had been here before: only Paco Gento had won more times at San Mamés, and not for long, while these moments and this spot had become his.
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