Atlético Madrid: The People’s Club

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Written by: Liam Madamba, Year 12

Some concluded the fairytale had ended when FC Barcelona scored, Alexis Sanchez driving in a volley of implausible precision and power. To add to their troubles, Atlético Madrid had two of their best players succumb to early injuries; both with tears in their eyes as they knew the magnitude of this penultimate game of the season. Now, they trailed at Camp Nou, where the greatest team of the past decade plied their trade. Now, the lack of inimitable experience of regularly winning trophies and the lustre of their more illustrious opponents had extinguished that hope. Now, they had lost two men and trailed by a goal that was a lightning bolt with no sign of the storm.

But as always, with their backs to the wall, Los Rojiblancos fought tenaciously, clawing their way back into contention, and scored in the second half. Godin rose highest, albeit unchallenged, and thumped a header into the bottom corner. 1-1. The draw was enough to secure the title for the first time in 18 years.
The congregation of fans arrived at the statue of Neptune, god of the sea, at around 11pm on April 30, a Wednesday night sixteen days before their title triumph. It is there that Atlético Madrid celebrated their triumphs. After overpowering the English club Chelsea FC in the Champions League semi-finals, the most prestigious club competition, they had every reason to; the unfancied Spanish side had made it to the finals in Lisbon and no one could doubt their place there. For the first time, two teams from the same city faced each other in a European Cup final, the world-famous Real Madrid.

But any misgivings of the possible defeat did not weigh down their cheers. The crowd grew steadily, the statue drowning in a sea of red and white, rocked by the gale of their song. Atlético's hymn was among the songs. It starts with the line: "I'm going to Manzanares." The Manzanares is the river that runs through Madrid, alongside the Vicente Calderón and into the Tagus River, heading west to Lisbon, where this team hopes to write their names in the stars.

The cheers may seem premature and defeat will be devastating for the loser in the final, yet no one could begrudge those who came out on to the streets in celebration. This may not be the ultimate success but it is a success, for Atlético Madrid. It was historic.



Exemplified by their only European Cup appearance which ended in a loss, Atlético had an uncanny knack for losing, and was aptly summed up in the nickname El Pupas or the “jinxed ones.” Over the years it intensified, in 1999 a first ever relegation only three years after winning a domestic double epitomized their struggle, but Simeone has changed this team from perennial losers to serial winners.

Diego Simeone has been known throughout his career for his intensity, resilience and will to win. A midfield destroyer, he would beleaguer opposing flair players with little shoves and tackles. He is perfectly summed up in the following words, taken after Atlético triumphed at Stamford Bridge, "Thank you to the mothers who gave birth to these Atléti players... their sons have massive balls." He has molded group of players laboring in mid-table into a team in every sense of the word, imbued with the same characteristics that made Simeone great. With the identical toughness and aggression during defending, but a ruthless riposte on the transitions.
                                                                               
Only Real Madrid stands between them and European glory.

The fundamental distinction between the two teams comes down to cold, hard cash, with Real Madrid's budget surpassing that of Atlético four or five times over. The temple of Real Madrid fans, the Santiago Bernabéu, sits alongside one of Madrid's main arteries, in the posh business district of Chamartín. When the economic crisis hit, this area was spared the brunt of the blow with housing values that continue to hover among Madrid's most expensive ones.

Where applause will suffice in the Bernabéu, only riotous roars bounce off the walls of Atlético's ragged Vicente Calderón stadium. Miles from Bernabéu, it sits in the poorer, industrial neighbourhood of Arganzuela.

The team found common ground with Spain's working class in their financial woes. The debt-ridden club was late in paying 37% of their bills to suppliers last season, according to recent disclosures. Countless clubs were neck-deep in debt, while Barcelona and Real Madrid racked up the bulk of the television rights, only exacerbating the fiscal gulf. According to Diego Torres, a football journalist with El País, "In this tough economic reality it's a message that there's still possibilities for the least favoured.”

However, this may be whitewashing Atlético’s recent financial history; the economic meltdown in Spain gave Atlético the opportunity to alleviate their own predicament via a lack of transparency and huge amounts of borrowing. By 2011 they owed a scarcely conceivable €517 million to creditors - including as much as €171m to the tax authorities alone, citing the economic recession as reason for laxity to prevail. Austerity looms and their success may have only been fleeting.

But football has been marred by recent transformation into unfettered playground for oligarchs, oil sheikhs and international kleptomaniacs. The key to success has been more or less whoever spends the most. When Atlético bulled their way into one the most unexpected victories in modern football, they shifted the footballing paradigm; La Liga is infamous for being a duopoly between Barcelona and Real Madrid and it most likely will continue to be so. Spanish football, perhaps football in general, is still what it is but Atlético have been given a voice, for the collective. Barcelona's supporters recognized the magnitude of what they had witnessed: when the final whistle blew, they immediately broke into applause.



Despite what has happened, and what still may or may not occur, Atlético Madrid have caught the public eye with their flamboyant swagger, lifted our collective footballing souls with their obdurate will to win and courage, and captured hearts with the undeniable charm of its manager. With the social and financial malaise stifling the beautiful game, this team allowed us to dream once more.
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