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ACB working day 28
Barça
When the speaker recited-thundered the Barcelona squad list before the match, the Madrid players stood on their side of the net, heads high, challengers, as if they were going to make a haka All Blacks style. But they limited themselves to forming a circle, to shaking hands for the umpteenth time, to meeting with the orange ball in between. It was the fifth time they met in the course, four white victories (Super Cup, Euroleague and League first round, in addition to the Cup final) and one for Barça, in the second round of the European competition, at the Palau. But it didn’t matter that it was a watched movie because the script always has twists on a classic. And this one took the cake, Show Barça driven by Laprovittola which shows that the team can handle whoever is in front of it if it maintains its pulse, its type and its concentration; fiasco for Madrid, which is in low times (three duels lost immediately) and which lost the leadership of the ACB at the hands of Unicaja with six games left to conclude the championship.
More passionate than cerebral, the classic started off hollywood, as if Tarantino or Guy Ritchie were shooting scenes from the parquet, because in the first quarter there was everything and more. He attacked Madrid first, distilling that lethal Campazzo-Tavares connection, from the small to the tall, from the builder to the tower. He was followed by Deck, who doesn’t know how to take a day off, and Yabusele with a triple. 3-7 for the whites, Tavares blocks Vesely and Barça puppeteers. Or not; It turned out to be an act because the comical profile gave way to the bloodthirsty, because Parker flew from Massachusetts to sink the hoop and Laprovittola combusted, once again a serial killer from the outskirts, again three triples from his house like the one that served to solve the messed up past against Maccabi. Added to that was the entry on the scene of Ricky Rubio, who said he still felt slow after a few months away from the ball, but who proved to be made for big occasions. deli and dance around the Palau: a triple, a two plus one and another basket to beat the best Barça of the course, 27-11 as an appetizer.
Between stumbles and brawls with the consequent tune of “This way, this way, this is how Madrid wins!”, Chus Mateo’s team tried to get back together with Poirier under the basket and with Llull, Campazzo and Hezonja on the outside, also with a Rudy who He will score triples for life, he hates Barça by definition. But Barça was not up for scabs, much less a sweet Abrines from the perimeter, nor a Vesely who once again took the lead. Czech Airlinesmates between flashes. The rhythm, the intensity, even the trust and communion with the stands, also with the football team, since Lewandowski, João Félix, Pedri and Gavi attended, resulted in the most polished and effective Barça, in the best version, in the kind face of his bipolarity of this course, capable of the best and the worst. Although Madrid, of course, the boss of Europe, the one that is set to win, the one that has made victory a routine, clarified that there were two teams on the pitch, that the drama was over, that their part was also for Oscar. Deck, Llull and Musa asked for their share of prominence, their main role, and shortened the distances. Insufficient, in any case, because Barça left with a smile at the interval (45-33), for once only Dr. Jekyll and nothing of Mr. Hyde. The game was left and Madrid was left…
That was explained by Yabusele, Musa and Campazzo from the line of three, loud slaps for a Barça that with only seven points ahead was beginning to look blurry. Or rather white because Campazzo had already put on his overalls, candy everywhere, also baskets, small but tough. Although that gave so much to Parker, who plays with a smile on his mouth, who does not tremble even if he wants to, who appeared to breathe energy back into his team, as did Laprovittola, a diamond head and a golden wrist. But the best news for the Blaugrana was that Tavares took down four personnel before the end of the episode. The worst, however, is that Poirier is always ready to take over – he cut off Hernangómez – and that Madrid’s snipers were still sharp. 64-58 and with everything to be decided, with the end of the movie to be discovered.
With Defcon 2 tension, there were angry protests from Poirier, Grimau, Vesely…No one was happy until Musa scored a triple and Deck a counterattack, 64-63, until Madrid, who had been groggy throughout the match, , I was knocking on the door again because otherwise what kind of movie would this be. But Barça did not open it, all character, encouraged by Hernangómez, who became great in the bottle, and by a Laprovittola who continued doing his thing, 25 points on the night. There were more action shots left. Like Campazzo throwing himself to the ground at the foot of the Barça bench in search of the lost ball; like Tavares once again vociferously criticizing the referee’s decisions until leaving the forum ahead of time; like Hernangómez playing the Hulk after a dunk; like Musa’s slalom alone against the world… And like Poirier getting excited because he wasn’t given a personal advantage, a technique to the delight of the Blaugrana, seven points away with three minutes left; jauja later when he was also sent off with the fifth. And Laprovittola went back to what he did, to score another triple and put an end to the intrigue: this classic was for Barça.
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