Real Madrid culminates with a basket for the story of Llull the Eleventh of the impossible

The last of the impossible was in the hands of Sergio Llull, a guy who was born with a superhero cape. It could be the basket of a lifetime if I hadn't already signed handfuls of them. Perhaps none like the one in Kaunas, the one that defeated a perplexed Olympiacos, now remembered forever as the launch of the Eleventh, the European Cup of all miracles. The Euroleague of Llull. [78-79: Narration and Statistics]

Although before reaching that moment for eternity, prompted by another exercise of infinite faith, we must remember how Madrid managed to survive until it. Because not a month has passed since the deepest of its abysses, of a team defeated in sports and embarrassed in disciplinary matters, of that battle of WiZink that marked a before and after. Olympiacos succumbed at the Zalgirio Arena to the umpteenth outburst of this wild group that Chus Mateo's group suddenly became.

Since that 0-2 defeat by Obradovic, Real Madrid has been dodging all adversity in a gymkhana of astonishment that has been an ode to self-esteem, the spirit of improvement and collective effort. Against the impossible, sanctions, injuries and markers that rose up to seem like insurmountable walls. Mounted on the back of the giant Tavares and with a final magic trick by Llull, the whites completed in the city of their myth Sabonis a work that will take time to be forgotten and that enlarges their continental legend, 59 years after their first conquest.

No one had ever gone 0-2 in the playoffs, no winner of a classic in the semifinals had subsequently conquered the European title. But this Madrid has defied all the impossible until defeating the best team in the regular season, a proud Olympiacos that sold its skin dearly, that felt like a winner even though deep down in its thoughts it knew that you can never say that against a team that counts with Llull, with Rudy, with El Chacho…

bad start

Madrid has made suffering its way of advancing and neither was it going to haggle over the drawbacks in the grand final. As if the comebacks were the key that starts your engine, sailing against the current the motivation of your energy. As in the semifinal against Barça, it rained triples to begin with, the rivals aware that, with Tavares, the area is forbidden territory and venturing into it is crazy work. Canaan celebrated its 32nd birthday with three triples that threw Mateo's initial plan to the ground. And Vezenkov, like a Malaysian drop -this time the inclusion of youth squad Eli Ndiaye had no effect-, put an alarming distance with only nine minutes of play (24-12).

The good news is that Tavares eliminated rivals through fouls like someone who knocks down pawns on the board.. And that Rudy and El Chacho entered to bring order and meaning to the white attack. With them, the defensive zone of which Mateo has made a hallmark and the irruption of Hezonja's points, Madrid did not take long to turn the night around. Six triples in the second act and mastery of the rebound (especially the offensive one, he enjoyed up to nine second chances) were his livelihood, although the rest of Tavares meant that Olympiacos also found relief. The battle, at halftime, could not be more on the edge.

Vezenkov

But again the anguish around. Olympiacos without mental cracks, returned to the charge with the triples of the surprise guest: Canaan was a nightmare. And soon Mateo had to turn to Rudy and Chacho again so that the gap in the first quarter would not be repeated. Now the white problem was the attack, because Bartzokas had raised the level of intensity of his team, taking the duel to the terrain where he feels more comfortable. A triple by Rudy who played with the hoop and went off was the closing to a third act in which Madrid had left little signs of weakness.

And that they worsened at the beginning of the fourth when, in the sixth, Vezenkov hit with his first triple. He was being the only blur on an impeccable service sheet, 25 points already then. If Mirotic had not been able to take advantage of the enormous void of the absences of Deck and Yabusele in the four, the MVP of the season was putting on his boots.

Madrid, honoring its irredeemable character, survived cradled on the ropes, throwing desperate but effective blows, like two triples from Causeur and a two plus one from Chacho that were pure oxygen. Perhaps the key to what was to come later, the last of the geniuses of a team for which nothing is impossible. On the tightrope at the end, when Olympiacos led by six with three minutes to go, the Greek funk and the white heart appeared in equal parts. Especially that of Sergio Rodríguez, who grabbed the ball as if it were the last mission of his life. While everyone failed and rushed, the canary hit a triple with 45 seconds remaining that was gold.

Because the next, troubled play by an Olympiacos that already feared the worst, Fall had no choice but to try with a bad shot. Walkup drained the last Greek foul. And Madrid had 12 seconds left after a timeout by Mateo. The ball ended up in the hands of Llull, who was to score the basket of a lifetime in front of the French center’s 218 centimeters. Another one more in the account of a legendary player. Jordan-like, from four meters, he got up in suspension not to miss, like a hero of the most unusual movie. It was his first basket of the game. It doesn’t matter. There were 3.2 seconds left for the Piraeus team, but Sloukas is not Llull. Nobody is Llull.

It is the triumph of faith, of players of infinite competitiveness, of veterans once again vindicated as if they needed it. Also the victory that puts in value the work always under suspicion of Chus Mateo and the one that gives continuity to the historic Laso era.. And, of course, it is the Undécima of Llull’s basket.

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