Liverpool surrenders to a suffering Madrid | Soccer | Sports

Liverpool finally gave up on Real Madrid after eight games and two Champions League finals of frustration. But this team revitalized by Arne Slot after Klopp's departure is now the boss of Europe, while Real is disintegrating night by night and at Anfield they also lost Camavinga, the best along with Brahim and Courtois. The goalkeeper once again prevented, with several lighting interventions, the impact of a Liverpool team that operates with a crushing roundness from becoming greater and was eroding Madrid's resistance until it collapsed and caused its third defeat in the Champions League, the first time that It happens in an initial phase. Your access to the crossings does not seem to be at risk, but it will have to be through the long path of the sixteenths. The course becomes even more difficult for Madrid, with more games, fewer troops and without Mbappé, who missed a penalty, emerging as the leader.

He came out even more shaken after another night that they knew was going to be one of gritting their teeth in Europe. A day to be very close together, like the one last year when they remained standing until the penalties in Manchester, just 50 kilometers from Liverpool. But with the team in the scrapes, from back to front. There is no better example than Raúl Asencio, whose growth spurt came suddenly: debut in the European Cup at Anfield, against the European leader, who also rules with authority in the Premier. In his third game with the first team, the awakening also came suddenly. Not even three minutes had passed when a ball that Courtois had taken bounced off him as he was retreating, and went for the goal. He reacted and took it over the line. The welcome was completed by a struggle with Darwin Núñez in the area that left him, like the striker, with yellow with 80 minutes still left. It didn't even melt.

He endured it and the entire team endured it. Because the beginning was that: resistance. The emergencies and Ancelotti managed to get the team together in the central zone while Liverpool looked for cracks to reach Courtois. The assault was progressive. Gravenberch was exploring from the axis, but nothing was yet visible. The biggest danger was Salah from the right, as Darwin's launcher, well watched by Asencio.

Madrid maintained its balance by watching the exit and tried to appease the fire of Slot's team by handling the ball between Modric, Camavinga, Güler, Brahim and Bellingham, once again brilliant. English always finds time, always creates space. The ball flew at them at the beginning and that kept Liverpool calm. But they hardly had any spice. And the English's respect for the champions evaporated.

Slot advanced lines. Bradley on the right and Robertson on the left stepped higher, and Valverde, a winger in circumstances, and Mendy began to suffer more. And with them all the equipment, which did not finish opening because it was held in place by Camavinga's glue. The Frenchman swept the entire center, covered any leaks and provided judgment at the start.

But Liverpool was already beating them like the rough winter sea. Batch of waves after batch of waves that eroded the resistance of the Real. They were still together, but not as much. They were supported, like so many desperate nights, by the Courtois pier. He saved one from point-blank range after a ruckus from Rüdiger, took another one with a punch and another one by reaching down with a header.

By then, Mac Allister and Gravenberch had already found a way to also unravel them in the center, where the Argentine entered the area to finally surpass Courtois. The floodgate opened and the downpour on Madrid increased. Liverpool insisted to finish taking him ahead. And it seemed like that was precisely what was going to happen, because at that point Camavinga was injured. Yes, him too.

But that's where Real rose a little. The Frenchman and Güler left and Ceballos and Lucas Vázquez entered, who as soon as he entered forced a penalty and put the team in a position that it had not even imagined a minute before. Kelleher guessed where Mbappé was going to shoot. The Frenchman's launch was like everything he did at Anfield, executions that vaguely recalled that dazzling and lethal footballer so desired at the Bernabéu. But that was it: a smudged sketch, more imprecise, less light, dull. Without Vinicius, injured, the night awaited Mbappé and Mbappé did not arrive.

Things got even a little more twisted. Mendy brought down Salah in the area, and there was the end. But the Egyptian missed the penalty and Madrid, although on the wire, continued walking. He stretched again, encouraged by the efforts of Brahim and Bellingham. He stepped into Kelleher's area again, but was unable to get anything out of those explorations, partly due to the lack of support from Mbappé, at a low time in his love affair with the ball.

Madrid refused to fall, but their rebellion caused them to continue opening up and Liverpool found a hole in the area with a cross in which Gakpo rose to head in under Modric's gaze. Real tried desperately, while continuing to suffer blows. And so, diminished and proud, Liverpool gave him up after so much, and left him with three defeats and two victories in this new Champions League.