(no subject)
Even when half empty, Camp Nou is a cavern of sound. Whistles and jeers for Zaragoza, applause for good runs and near chances, and chants and anthems overlaid on the cadences of a solitary drummer down on the ground level. My seat was on the second tier near a corner flag, so my biggest fear was that the goals wouldn't be scored at my end. Of course, Aimar wasn't in action, having reinjured his ankle last weekend against Deportivo. He'll miss this Sunday's match at Espanyol, which throws a wrench into my plans.
The game was played underneath a fine mist that started earlier that evening, the sky unsure of its own sadness, enveloping everything in a canopy of cold air. Zaragoza were defending the near goal in the first half, and although a few shots did come our way, most of my time was spent puzzling over goalkeeper Cesar Sanchez's attempts at keeping himself amused. I got lucky twelve minutes before the end of the game, when Zaragoza broke the deadlock right in front of me after Diogo headed home a corner taken by D'Alessandro. The entire stadium went silent, except for the small gaggle of Zaragoza fans on the third tier, whose furious cheering had been swallowed up for most of the match by the Barcelona faithful. The drummer tried to rouse up support as the team pushed for an equalizer, but the fans' response was as halfhearted as that of the players.
I was excited, to say the least. Where Valencia aren't concerned, I tend to root for the team with the most Argentinians, and Zaragoza is wealthy in that regard. G Milito marshalled the backline expertly and kept Saviola in check for most of the match, D'Alessandro and D Milito provided crucial outlets for the counterattack in the first half, and Diogo -- Uruguayan, sí, but close enough for my liking -- not only neutralized Ronaldinho, but also put his team in good standing to reach the semifinal of the Copa for the second season in a row.
Zaragoza had been using set plays on corners up until the breakthrough, and rather unsuccessfully, but the corner that led to the goal was taken directly. Whether it was a conscious decision by the manager to try and lull the Barcelona defenders into a false sense of security or a circumstantial change of tactics that led to the goal, it worked, and nothing makes me happier than noticing the little details that change the course of a game.
The stadium emptied in mere minutes, the late kickoff stunting the excitement of the encounter, fans spilling out like ants and scurrying off to the Metro to catch the late train home. Mostly it was the old men who grumbled about the result, not having anything better to do, but most fans seemed unbothered; undoubtedly the Copa is a mickey-mouse tournament, the silverware not exactly sterling, but still worth an appreciative eye. Zaragoza are hungrier for this triumph anyway.
Film-grade condensation
Cesar the clown
Goal celebration