[Sport] De Jong gives a thread of life to a Sevilla attacked by a superb Haaland

[SougarLord]

 

Sevilla paled against Borussia Dortmund (2-3) in one of their worst games of the season. The Germans defeated those of Lopetegui, who accused the blows of Haaland, imperial and decisive. De Jong's goal in 85 lit up the second leg.

Borussia Dortmund barked and Sevilla bit. In minute 6, after a good visitor start, Suso feinted in the segment of the area. He first feigned the shot with the good one, with his left, then he settled it on the right and kicked predictably but with faith. Hummels, very soft, somewhat covered, poisoned the ball, lodging it in the net of his goalkeeper, a bewildered Hitz. A suicidal clearance. He played climbing. The local reverie ended up turning into a nightmare.

 

Jadon Sancho, with his dribbling, with his sharpness, kept his spirits on in his own. His teeth had barely dug into their flesh. The goal against them was not noticed, on the contrary, they had set their boots on fire. Haaland was pivoting, returning every ball he received, struggling with the centrals, softening the Germans' attack. Lopetegui's uncomfortable; light, very warm, unrecognizable. In the 20th minute, the Norwegian dropped to a band. He received the ball there, far away. He tamed her, cared for her and gifted her fluffy and soft to Dahoud, who prowled the rival area. The German-Syrian midfielder, with space, prepared the shot with culinary delicacy, to his love, placing the impossible ball for Bono, who flew in vain.

 

The goal collapsed Sevilla, who forgot the planned plan. Neither pressure, nor conquest on the sides, nor severity behind. Pure smoothness. Barely eight minutes later, Haaland seized the ball, ran towards the door without being blocked, regal, with Diego Carlos recoiling, averted, metus reverentialis; the forward leaned on Sancho, who returned it with precision, dodging the red-and-white rearguard, leaving him completely alone in front of Bono. He did not forgive. What a great handball player Norway lost. Parquet move, twenty by forty. If he had been knocked down by an opponent, they would have whistled seven meters.

 

One thing is superiority and another is tragedy. Sevilla was made of clay. Erin Terzic's men sniffed the bewilderment and pressed furiously. Papu Gómez lost a ball in the center of the field. The BVB mounted a fierce counter. Reus dragged the ball to Bono's area and yielded to Haaland who, oh surprise, was relentless again, beating the Moroccan with a cross and low shot. The game had gone to the Nervionenses before the exhibition of the other great European beast, which seemed to respond to Mbappé. The boy has 18 goals in 13 games in the Champions League. And he is 20 years old. Some numbers without possible comparison. The break was a towel shaken in front of his face, some air behind the blanket.

 

Rakitic handed over his position to Gudelj after the intermission. Lopetegui wanted to stop the bleeding, hold on to the game like the Coyote to the branch. Papu began very active, already used to the extreme, looking for a translucent En-Nesyri during the first half. But nothing worked. The jabbing of his team in the first minutes after the restart ended up unsettling Lopetegui, who was looking at the clock in confusion. Munir, De Jong and Óliver Torres entered the field, exchanging the Sevilla attacking point. Insubstantial and desperate against the defense of Dortmund, a priori, one of their weak points.

 

ÓSCAR'S ASSISTANCE

 

Borussia Dortmund waited patient, orderly, fatuous. A demolition of Akanji to De Jong in the area quickened the pulse of the sevillistas. Makkelie did not see a penalty. In the absence of twenty minutes, Sevilla was lost in the center of the field, in the labyrinth of their impotence, blunt, unable to disturb Hitz, a mere spectator, with the latex of his gloves still immaculate. Without ideas in the creation, Óscar Rodríguez entered to open a window to set pieces. Any search for light is honorable. And the midfielder almost succeeded in his first appearance, a free-kick that crashed into the right post of the Swiss goalkeeper of the Rhineland.

 

You could see the dull stands, the fatigue, the elaborate black-and-yellow closure. Terzic began giving oxygen to his team. Passlack and Brandt came out to contain the last arreón of Sevilla, that hopeful goal for a return that will be like dancing on glass. A goal that came, that did not remain in the limbo of the desired goals, in that invisible layer. There are no heroes without feats, and Sevilla had once again been involved in a miracle. Óscar assisted De Jong who, icy, crossed before the visiting goalkeeper. A goal that is iodine for a wound that seemed deep.