This Madrid has long made victory routine, a team that plays basketball and keeps up with the rival, which is already impatiently picking the daisy to find out how many titles it will win at the end of the course, undeniable in the league and in the Euroleague, now also in the Copa del Rey. That was explained in the semi-final against a Valencia who barely lasted two acts, an opponent who never quite believed it and lost his step – and got himself, astonishingly, tangled up with a failed checkmate from López-Arostegui that would have been enough to putt in the middle in the lead in the duel – he gave up. A challenge (or rather a joke) that in no way undermines or wears down Madrid for the final, which should confirm what his game and his numbers say: that there is no one better.
A strong smell of gunpowder greeted Martín Carpena two hours before the start of the semi-final, fireworks full of joy and encouragement from the Valencia fans, who were already shouting to the rhythm of the drumsticks. Another sign that the Cup is a party where fans fraternize and share tablecloths and nights on the town on duty, a full-fledged third half of rugby. But what's celebrated in the stands is played out on the hardwood. And there Madrid has neither echo nor shadow. Among other things, because it attacks on land, at sea and in the air, because then there is no one to attack it.
REAL MADRID, 97 – VALENCIA, 76
Real Madrid: Campazzo (10), Musa (18), Deck (9), Yabusele (14) and Tavares (7) – starting quintet –; Rudy (5), Hezonja (3), Llull (11), S. Rodríguez (8) and Poirier (10).
Valencia: Jones (9), Jovic (2), Puerto (0), Inglis (5) and Davies (18) – starting quintet –; Harper (7), Claver (0), Anderson (12), Pradilla (2), López-Arostegui (12), Ojeleye (9) and Pangos (0).
Partials: 23-17; 25-22; 32-16; and 15-21.
Referee: Carlos Peruga, Carlos Cortes and Luis Miguel Castillo. Eliminated for foul play, Davies.
The white team started the duel with the idea of using Tavares as a lever, moving the world, balls into the paint so that the copper could fight with Davies, who took command at the first exchange with two people. Huge defeat for Valencia because in seven minutes they only had the center's wrist, two threes and nothing else. The rest, water. Mostly because he was in a hurry to shoot, almost always made poor decisions, blocked shots that didn't touch the rim, blocked everywhere, and ultimately was a face of circumstance because basketball only went one way. A foretaste of Eden for Madrid, which went on a 16-0 run. Because Deck always manages to see the basket; because there are no cracks that can resist Musa; because Campazzo adds or multiplies; because Madrid is a lot of Madrid. Although Chris Jones, mouse as he is, tried to bring his team into the game, at least end the quarter with hope (23-17). The slap would come later, and in the most unlikely way…
It turns out that more of the same happened in the second act, the rope play every time Madrid stepped on the accelerator and went. Although now he did it with his wardrobe, with two old gold rockers like Sergio Rodríguez and Sergi Llull, who were scoring triples and layups like hotcakes. Tralla, who once again scored the double-digit difference and seemed to leave Valencia dazed, over-excited and failing again, especially in his choice of shot. But Davies once again took Tavares out of his sphere of influence and, as in the beginning, defined himself with three-point combinations that were pure gasoline for his team. And so, from the periphery, Valencia ended up causing problems for the white team, the sharpshooters Harper, Ojeleye and López-Arostegui. A coup because they managed to score 42:41; A shot with a rebound and a bruise, because at that point López-Arostegui was alone in front of the basket and put Valencia in the lead. It was a checkmate for the gallery, to be enjoyed… And tragedy struck when he suffered a trigger pull and his arm was caught, an incomprehensible mistake and a new sprint for Madrid to close the break with a lead of nine to reach. What was fought and won was lost in a flash.
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Rest and cooling down were of no use to Valencia. A madness that Davies showed by committing the fourth personal right at the beginning of the third part. The best Taronja with the ball in his hands chose in the worst possible way and left the team helpless. And if you give Madrid a small advantage, you give them too much. So Chu's Mateo's team pressed the hyperspace button with the speed of Campazzo's legs and head and blew up the duel (66-44).
A time of joy for the Madrid players who, while their rival simultaneously lowered his head, raised it gallantly and looked at the audience with challenging looks. [al vacÃo, en verdad] that their purpose is not to provoke, but to feed the ego and illustrate how good they are. And Campazzo, Musa, Yabusele and Co. are. So much so that in the semi-finals of the cup they did what they wanted, when they wanted. A basketball of tens of millions of carats and well above the rest that puts them back in their place as they have reached 10 of the last 11 finals played. It's white law; the king of cups
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