Colin Sheridan: Erling, I feel your pain, though Pep does not
Association football is a funny old game, especially when plucky underdogs Real Madrid are hailed as the saviours of a game perpetually held at gunpoint by oligarchs and state ownership.
Their eventual triumph over Manchester City on Wednesday at the Etihad had a touch of the David versus Goliath about it. An upset. The rebels infiltrated the Death Star and brought down the Evil Empire.
Their tactics at the end of extra-time resembled the good old days of Irish football when we could squeeze a result away in Moscow, Richard Dunne impersonating a spartan. Madrid revelled in their own insolence.
They hacked and shovelled their way out of hole after hole. Their star man, Jude Bellingham, put in a shift a coal miner would be proud of.
Their skipper, Nacho Fernández, gave a performance for the ages. Madrid’s stand-in keeper, the Ukrainian Andriy Lunin was shaky in the air but unpassable on the ground. Antonio Rüdiger’ display was worthy of a poem.
Yet, for all of the bravery of their endeavour, it was barely enough to draw with City, who - in this form - are playing football at a level beyond everybody else.
Had it been anybody else but Carlo Ancelloti’s Madrid, Pep Guardiola’s team would’ve breezed into a Champions League semi-final with a performance so rich in quality it almost defied description.
Kyle Walker was immense. Kevin de Bruyne should’ve had a hat-trick. Sub Jérémy Doku gave the type of cameo the late John Cazelle would’ve been proud of. The man he replaced - the embattled Jack Grealish - still did enough damage to almost score twice.
The only misfiring weapon in their arsenal was the hapless Erling Haaland, a man who last season looked like he’d dominate the sport for a decade. This season, despite scoring 26
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