Nothing happened on a placid Sunday afternoon, one of those almost spring walks, or I slept on the couch with a German movie on television. In Los Cármenes they were divided between those for a stroll and those for a siesta, because no one played soccer, no matter how much muscle some put on them and others wanted to make up for the imagination deficit with excess perspiration. Between them they had turned the party into a concrete mixer that did not stop making cement. From the second minute, when Domingos Duarte headed off a corner kick, until half an hour later, when Oyarzabal fired deflected from the edge of the area, the goalkeepers remained standing, and so they continued for another quarter of an hour.
Nothing happened, until it happened. It was the butterfly effect, which began with an injury, that of Foulquier, the side who was born on the island of Guadalupe, in the Antilles. He chased Oyarzabal in a run and suffered a pulled muscle. He forced his team to move the bench. Víctor Díaz came out to the field, a natural replacement, a non-disruptive replacement, more cement from the concrete mixer. Looked like.
Three minutes after the relay, Granada scratched a corner that rejected the Real defense towards the edge of the area. There was the newcomer, who took the courage to shoot without thinking. The shot was going wide, but it hit his teammate Germán, and then yes, he found his way to the goal, with Remiro defeated to the other side. The game did not deserve a glorious shot, so the ball bounced in. Finally something happened, but nothing else happened again. With a tired Granada after the European appointment with Malmoe, and a Real Sociedad out of place, which also lost its beacon, David Silva, before half an hour, the game turned into an inedible mush. Donostiarras pressed after the goal, but with no effectiveness in front of the goal. Their attacks crashed against the Granada breakwater. The dominance turned into harassment in the final minutes, but the Basques did not finish on goal, because Granada defended themselves with common sense.
Imanol activated all the attackers he had on the bench. He took Isak, who did not have his afternoon, and Januzaj, whose usual supply had been blocked by the band, and put Portu, to activate the band, and Bautista, an auctioneer, but the first only caused wars of guerrillas, and the second did not enjoy substantial auctions. Actually, they were playing what Granada wanted, satisfied after taking the lead after a week with double effort. To nothing.
The defeat cuts the good run from San Sebastian that propelled him towards the Champions zone. She was within range, but for the moment, Imanol’s men are watching her from the other side of the window. In Los Cármenes they did not have their afternoon. Those of Diego Martínez, who watched the game from the stands, yes. The little that happened was good for them.