The King is Dead, Long Live the King

No miracle could save Real Madrid this time, as they put more heart than head into the Santiago Bernabéu and ended up being ousted from their favourite competition by an Arsenal team that Mikel Arteta has equipped with the necessary composure to dream big. Resistant to the push of a merengue coliseum that did not see the ardour it put into play matched by the performance it expected from its gladiators, the 'Gunners' emerged unscathed from the visit to the merengue volcano and will be among Europe's top four once again, sixteen years later.

Buoyed by the comfortable lead they brought from London, the English side managed the game much better, barely suffering to dethrone a king who was not up to the task of defending the crown and will face PSG in the semi-finals.

Nervous, hasty, and most worryingly, enormously impotent, Carlo Ancelotti's side ended their participation in the tournament at the quarter-final stage, a competition they began with crooked lines and barely stayed afloat until this Wednesday's disgraceful elimination, which sounds like a death sentence for their strategist and calls for a deep renewal in a dressing room lacking the necessary footballing arguments to give credence to the mystique.

Real Madrid electrified the atmosphere with the wiring typical of the epics that have burnished their legend: high-voltage 'busiana' to receive the team, an enraptured crowd, and a regal tifo as a prelude. Ancelotti supported the starting gun by outlining a line-up with more edge than cover. All framed, of course, in a faith based on sacred texts written by apostles like Santillana, Juanito, Valdano, Cristiano, Benzema, or Joselu, who shaped a creed that has the comeback as a sacred word.

The goal was to provoke an emotional whirlwind that would short-circuit the soul and legs of Arsenal and propel a squad with the spirit of a mountaineer. There is no mountain the white climber has not tamed before, no matter how steep, as even the newest in the office have well internalised. Only the forms needed to accompany the substance. There, the liturgy failed.

Because Arsenal extinguished the ceremony that the Champions' high priest was about to officiate by pouring water on the fire. Arteta's side was labelled as inexperienced, but they took on the challenge with composure and humbled an overexcited champion. The excess of revolutions cost Ancelotti's side two early yellow cards and a penalty that could have sealed the tie for Arsenal. Saka wasted it, as Courtois read his intentions.

Following that penalty, which could have served as a 'Gunner' extinguisher, came another, this time in Arsenal's area, poorly awarded by a referee overwhelmed by the scenario and annulled after an interminable review by a slow-digesting VAR. The combination of blunders forged a timeout that hit Real Madrid like a bullet.

The Whites needed to sprint, but Arsenal kept the brakes on, with the referee's complacency. Amid whistles and flutes, the first half went down the drain, with no more punishment for Arsenal than a yellow card to Raya for delaying tactics. A small toll they paid gladly, as in return, they managed to put their opponent in formaldehyde.

Confused, Real Madrid mistook speed for bacon. They had the attitude, but lacked the football. That they put in 22 lateral crosses by halftime, with Joselu in Qatar and Mbappé as a pole vaulter in Chamartín, says much about the chaotic way of attacking of a block to which Ancelotti asked for control, but which fell into anarchy.

Carletto maintained the battle plan after the break, despite his troops' disorder. So did Arteta, who was pleased with a skirmish with so little blood. If anything, scratches from petty squabbles that frustrated Real Madrid and consumed energy, but above all, time. Time the locals did not have, increasingly rushed and disorganised.

Devoured by anxiety, Real Madrid stripped themselves bare at the back without covering up front, turning the pitch into an athletics track. They appealed to their sprinters, but neither Mbappé nor Vinicius had the necessary burst. Far from changing the bet, Ancelotti doubled down with the substitutions, and Arsenal delivered the coup de grâce. Merino assisted, and Saka executed.

The tie could only be overturned by another succession of paranormal phenomena. Those that are never missing at the Bernabéu. There was one, of course. Saliba animated the poltergeist by dozing off while Vinicius pressed him. The Brazilian, who interned alongside Benzema, picked up the gauntlet, sealed the draw, and revived his coliseum.

Back to square one, albeit with nuances. Half an hour remained, with all the lesser of evils, as Arsenal did not take the step back that condemned so many collateral victims, and on top of that, Ancelotti lost Mbappé in battle, who left with a sore ankle and the Copa del Rey final against Barça in the air. Hope was fading, and Martinelli drove the last stake into the Whites' coffin. This time the miracle was a chimera.