Vs. Tottenham Hotspur - The Merciless 7-0 Massacre
Real Madrid showed no satisfaction even after slamming in two early goals in the first half. They kept up the intense high press, putting constant pressure on Tottenham's defenders. And their efforts paid off.
25th minute of the first half.
Michael Campbell, a Tottenham youth product who'd been showing his loyalty to the club and delighting Spurs fans, passed back toward the keeper under heavy pressure from Jesus Gonzalez. But the ball clipped his foot awkwardly and flew off in a direction that had nothing to do with the goalkeeper, earning Real Madrid a corner kick.
“Bloody hell!!”
Campbell couldn't hide his frustration at his own mistake. While the Tottenham players were thrown off by seeing their usually reliable and calm captain like this for the first time, Luis Garcia—who'd won his battle against Luka Savic in this match—shook out his poodle hair and charged toward the corner flag.
“Vamos!! Corner kick!! It's mine!!”
As Tottenham Hotspur's players were still out of it during Real Madrid's corner kick setup, Jesus slipped quietly into the penalty box like he owned the place. He just redirected Luis Garcia's corner into the net for the goal. Before Vladimir could even approach, he sprinted to the corner flag in front of the Tottenham home fans, struck a quick camera pose with a click, and shouted at the broadcast camera.
“You know what? We’re gonna win!!”
"You know what? We’re gonna win!" What a throwback line!
Yes—it's what Son Heung-min said to the camera after scoring against Tottenham Hotspur vs. Manchester City in the first leg of the 2018-19 Champions League quarterfinals! Looks like it's aimed at Tottenham's manager Joe Wright, who provoked Real Madrid players in the pre-match interview.
“No! No!!!”
Before the 30th minute of the first half, Tottenham's players—looking young and rattled after conceding three goals—were starting to lose their minds. Their average age was probably around 23? Normally, their mental anchor and veteran defender Michael Campbell would be barking at them to get it together. But even he was too tense in his first Champions League tournament knockout stage, unable to show his usual play.
Without anyone to steady the young players' mentality, Tottenham started creaking. Touchline coach Joe Wright tried desperately to grab hold of their spirits, but from outside the pitch? Good luck with that.
Another Tottenham pass mistake happened, and this time Roberto Fabian stole it and shoved it into the net. Seeing the score blow out and Tottenham losing motivation, Roberto Fabian skipped the celebration out of respect for the opponent.
Score: 4-0. With over 10 minutes left in the half, pity stirred as I watched the soulless Tottenham players.
Should I ease up a bit?
I really meant to go easy on them. But Real Madrid's other merciless teammates were grinding their teeth and running hard, so the ball came my way again. Tottenham's rough tackle sent me tumbling unavoidably—and right in the penalty box, perfectly in the ref's view. Penalty kick declared. Tottenham defenders protested it was Hollywood acting, but no dice.
“I'm shooting left!” I told the keeper with an expression overflowing with consideration for where I'd aim, then blasted it right as the ref blew the whistle.
Thwack-!
Tottenham's keeper Harrison, who'd dived the wrong way, stared at me with utter injustice.
“Left from your perspective, dumbass! I'm considerate—I think from the opponent's view!”
“Fuck! You bastard!”
Leaving the despairing Tottenham keeper behind, I sprinted full tilt to the corner flag for my celebration. Sure, skipping celebrations in blowouts is the unspoken rule of respect. But that was my
“Am I going soft?!”
Halftime ended. Real Madrid added one more from Jesus Gonzalez in stoppage time, putting six past Tottenham Hotspur in the first half alone and completely demolishing them.
At kickoff, the packed Tottenham Hotspur Stadium had been showering me with boos. Now, the home fans had cleared out.
In the empty stadium, only the cheers from the away Madridista fans who'd traveled to London echoed. I clapped gratefully to them before heading to the locker room.
Valverde, following the players into the away locker room, gave no tactical instructions—just ordered rest.
“Puta! Six in the first half, so let's show mercy with three more in the second and head back to Madrid!”
“Hala Madrid!!!”
Refreshed with halftime bananas, we scored right at the start of the second half. Luis Garcia, taking my pass, curled it in with his right foot, shaking the net for our seventh. He spun around instantly and roared toward the corner flag.
“Vaaaaaaamos!!”
Hmm... that guy's gonna stir up controversy.
After that goal, fearing injury from Tottenham's retaliatory tackles, Valverde pulled me and Luis Garcia to the bench. Bruno Iglesias came on for me, Henatu Sanchez for Luis Garcia. Roberto Fabian shifted from right wing-forward to striker, and Bruno Iglesias took the right wing-forward spot.
Post-subs, Real Madrid killed the tempo. Tottenham fans erupted in fury at their team's garbage performance at home. Final score: 7-0 Real Madrid win.
. . . Full time. Real Madrid 7 : 0 Tottenham Hotspur.
After the match, club brass worried about potential terrorist acts from enraged Tottenham fans after the shocking loss, so we headed straight back to Madrid.
Beating a team at soccer leading to terror? Sounds crazy, but Europe has a way of turning the unimaginable real.
Anyway, I made it safely home to Madrid. Yohan was thrilled Dad was back early and brought a soccer ball.
“Dada— soccer! Soccer!”
"...."
I was speechless.