Getafe and Barcelona staged the worst of a Sunday afternoon with that feeling of having wasted the last hours of the weekend starring in a game, to call it somehow nauseating. It ended 0-0, obviously because, as happens on certain Sunday afternoons, nobody wants to get off the couch. Not even to go for a beer. It was one of those Sundays where you don’t even take off your pajamas. But look, everyone ended up happy, well those who endured it, no. The locals will continue one more year in the First Division and the Catalans are already second and will play the Super Cup. However, it would be fair if they were condemned to see the match repeated.
The match, given the needs of each of the contenders, seemed like a blind date between two recent divorcees who do not want to find a partner but who, given the media attention, must show some interest in continuing in competition. In other words, Getafe and Barcelona took to the field hoping that the afternoon would go by smoothly and at just the right time, each going home and sleeping.
Clinging to this spirit, Barça plagued by casualties went through the first half without approaching Soria’s goal. An offensive production as scarce as Getafe’s fouls. Quique Sánchez Flores’ team committed their first foul in the 40th minute of the game. That is to erase the historical memory and the rest, bosses.
More attentive to looking at the scoreboard to see what was happening in the rest of the fields, because there is no better job than what the others doboth teams kept their distance with remarkable chastity.
Ferran Torres kept running a lot and finishing little, Auba reserved himself for the final push, Riqui wanted to be seen without that being synonymous with success and Ter Stegen was the one who encouraged a Getafe who did not want to be too clever either, lest the provocation be misunderstood
Getafe’s best chances in the first half (who says chances, says mini scares at the level of the witch train) came from some indecision by the German goalkeeper. One of them especially bleeding when trying to catch a free ball in his area, which escaped him in an action that in a trial training in cadets would have sent him directly to his little house.
The beginning of the second part of the appointment, that is, of the second part, was even worse than the beginning of the evening. The protagonists only needed to look at the mobile during the game. The two wanted to go home as soon as possible and end the paripé, but a final incentive came. Desperate, Ansu arrived to play half an hour that could save the night.
But the succession of events did not give hope to any comeback. Perhaps the most exciting thing that was seen during the first half hour of the second part was a hydration break for some gentlemen who had spent the game at a dirty trot. From the stands, the unsuspecting partygoers appreciated the coverage of new technologies to see something more interesting from their mobile devices, including recovering the German performance in Eurovision.
As the end of the game approached, which by the way seemed never to come, the Coliseum audience began to celebrate the permanence of their team, which coincided with Sevilla’s goal at the Metropolitano. In other words, the game was only to languish and forget, except for Mika Mármol, a 20-year-old central defender who made his First Division debut in discount time. A Sunday thrown away, but a season saved.
