ah, the morning after. time to soothe my hyperstimulated neurons and placate them into the drunken bliss of selective amnesia. 20 minutes into the first half, i already knew this wasn’t a match i’d want to relive. i remember a time when i used to enjoy clasicos, even when we were losing. but there’s just something so despicable about madrid’s present crop of players and coaches that i just want to get the matches over with and not look back.
so the night ended in a 1-1 draw. we have the tiniest of advantages going into the second leg, with an away goal and what i’m sure will be a noisy home crowd. and after the 90-minute adrenalin rush at the bernabeu, this is all i choose to (or can afford to) remember: