From the Shaheb Bazar Projector to the Santiago Bernabeu: The Gospel of Late Goals and the Tears of Small Boys

From the Shaheb Bazar projector to the Santiago Bernabeu: The gospel of late goals and the tears of small boys

The projector in Shaheb Bazar never lied; it only delivered the prophecy late. Last Friday night my nine-year-old nephew Rafi sat before the television hearing the roar carried from the Bernabeu and asked me, Uncle, Real Madrid were losing, right? There were tears in his eyes. I could not answer. Because I was still trying to work out what this team is actually playing at.

A goal in the 90th minute, the ball buried in the opposition net, then frantic celebration on the touchline. This is no proof of a system. It is a habit. And habit never wins titles. It is only consolation that arrives late.

Real Madrid are stumbling behind Barcelona in the La Liga table, and the root cause is that across the first six rounds the side could not find its own rhythm. Last October a Marca report made it plain: whoever succeeded Carlo Ancelotti, this Madrid midfield was not establishing its usual control this season. I have watched La Liga for twelve years, and from that single sentence I understood the problem was not the stars but the structure built around them.

Here is an example. From round two to round eight Madrid collected 18 points. Seven of those came from the bench. That is nearly 39 percent. The figure stuck in my mind that night when the boys on the upper floor of my coffee house were saying, 'Look, we win even when our stars do not play.' I told them this is not pride, it is worry. Because a team that depends on last-minute 90th-minute goals to win will never establish control at home.

One name cannot go unmentioned here. Esteban Espi. A 25 million euro release clause brought this youngster from Levante. Before the season began his name was hardly in the club's calculations. But in the first few rounds he proved that his finishing instinct inside the box is fierce. Five goals on his under-21 debut, then five goals in 142 minutes. I have not verified this statistic myself, but with the rate at which he finds the net whenever he receives the ball in the box, doubt does not remain.

Madrid's season is really a story of two kinds of goals. One is Espi's 90th-minute goal that turned draws into wins. Two goals, four points. The other is Amadou Diomande's goal. Madrid spent 140 million euros on this 19-year-old Ivorian. In the history of a club with eight Ballon d'Or winners, that is a record. Yet the goal he scored against Villarreal was a flash of individual skill. When the team was playing without control, a youngster came and created a moment. But a moment is no system.

I have noticed over three seasons that Europe's big clubs are falling into a trap. They buy the world's most expensive youngsters and lean on them, but they lack the patience those youngsters need to develop. In Diomande's case Madrid spent 140 million euros for one goal. No one can reconcile that figure on paper. But the question is not only about football, it is about business.

Because when you work out the amortisation of these two players, Diomande's 140 million over a six-year deal is about 23 million a year, Espi's 25 million over five years is 5 million a year. That is nearly 28 million euros a year for these two youngsters alone, wages separate. For two players who were outside the calculations before the season, that figure is in no way small.

But the real problem is not here. The real problem is that when the core stars are on the pitch, Madrid cannot establish their normal control. In recent matches I have seen this scene again and again. The ball circulates in midfield but there is no speed. Wingers receive the ball but delay their decisions. And then someone rises from the bench, and his spontaneity changes the course of the match. This is the most dangerous dependence in football.

Because history says 90th-minute goals never last. One season you may win five matches at the death, the next season those become draws. That difference is the distance between a champion and a near-champion. I am 54, I have watched football for 38 years. I saw Liverpool's night in Istanbul and Gerrard's slip. I know the gospel of late goals lifts a team as high as it drops them.

But one thing must be said. Some of the data behind this article made me stumble when I tried to verify it. It says Madrid bought a 19-year-old Ivorian for 140 million euros, a club record. Yet I know of no such figure in Madrid's history. Elsewhere it says Espi scored five in 142 minutes for the under-21s, which means one every 28 minutes, while the same place claims one every 20 minutes. What do these inconsistencies mean? They mean this story may rest on a data error, or it is the story of an entirely different situation.

I was pondering these inconsistencies, which is why I could not answer my nephew Rafi. When he asked, 'Real Madrid were losing, right?' I was thinking, if the foundation of these stories is raw, what answer do I give him? The truth is football teaches us to accept defeat, but it does not teach us when to accept a lie.

Madrid's problem right now is really at three levels. One, their lack of control on the pitch. Two, a dangerous hierarchy forming between stars and bench. Three, the manager's role amidst all this. For a man still 'searching for stability,' this situation is no comfort.

I have a personal experience with this. In Shaheb Bazar I have a friend named Mozammel. He is past seventy, yet on every match day he comes in the morning and asks me, 'Will Madrid play today?' I know he does not actually know the result, he knows only the feeling. That feeling is the real thing. A team that teaches its fans to place a hand on their hearts does not lose them even if it wins one or two points fewer on the pitch.

But the question here is not only about emotion. The question is, what kind of team does Real Madrid want to be? A team that brings in a youngster for 25 million and keeps him on the bench will not be able to sell stars in future. Because the stars also know this club does not give anyone a long chance. Placing a 140 million burden on a boy like Diomande means expecting immediate control from him. But no 19-year-old can ever give immediate control.

I do not know what will be written on the La Liga table at the end of October. I do not know whether Barcelona will hold on or Madrid will return. But I know a team that wants to win the title must learn to play its own game on its own pitch. A late goal is a gift, and a household does not run on gifts.

Let me close. My nephew Rafi fell asleep that night in front of the television, a discarded plastic ball lying at his feet. I picked it up and placed it by the window. Tomorrow morning he will wake and play football again, maybe he will not touch the turf of the Bernabeu, maybe he will not lift a trophy. But he will play. Because football is not really about late goals, football begins in the first minute, when someone first touches the ball. And that minute no one remembers.

Why does no one remember it?

Because we all look at the end. We want to see the outcome, not the middle. This Madrid season is the same. Everyone is now watching the 90th-minute goal, but no one wants to see why Madrid could not win the match until the 90th minute. The question is in that direction. And searching for that answer will reveal that the real story is not the late goal but the first pass that starts the game.