The Scene: The roar inside the Santiago Bernabéu was not one of triumph, but of relief mixed with desperation. When the ball finally struck the back of the net, ending a drought that felt geological in its duration, the scorer did not wheel away to the corner flag to bask in personal glory. Instead, Rodrygo turned and sprinted—with more purpose than he has shown on the wing all season—straight for the technical area. He buried his face in Xabi Alonso’s shoulder, a public embrace designed to scream "we are together" to the skeptics in the stands. It was a touching moment of human connection amidst the cold machinery of elite football. But ten minutes later, the stadium was silent, the lead was gone, and that warm embrace had turned cold. The scoreboard read 2-1 to Manchester City, and the gesture of unity suddenly looked less like a battle cry and more like a farewell.
Let’s cut through the sentimental noise. We are being sold a narrative of solidarity, a story of a dressing room that will run through brick walls for their manager. But at Real Madrid, running through a wall is the bare minimum requirement. The problem isn't the effort; it's that Xabi Alonso’s side keeps crashing into the wall and expecting applause for the bruise.
The Currency of “Good Vibes” is Worthless
Rodrygo’s post-match comments were predictable. "I wanted to show people that we are together with the coach," he said. It is a sentiment as noble as it is irrelevant. In the cutthroat ecosystem of the European elite, unity is often the last refuge of the failing. Winning teams don't need to perform public displays of affection to prove they are functional. Winning teams simply win.
Consider the stark reality of Rodrygo’s situation. Here is a forward playing for the most demanding club on earth, who had not scored in nine months. Let that sink in. Nine months. In that time, babies are born, seasons change, and managers usually get sacked. That he was starting only his fifth game of the season speaks volumes about the tactical confusion currently plaguing the Bernabéu. The goal against Gianluigi Donnarumma was a moment of release, yes, but one goal does not erase nearly a year of ghostly performances.
"Unity is the consolation prize of the loser. The Santiago Bernabéu is not a therapy center; it is a trophy factory. If the players love Alonso so much, they should try defending a lead rather than hugging him."
The optics of the hug suggest a squad that is aware their leader is on the scaffold. It was a protective gesture, shielding Alonso from the inevitability of the sack. But Florentino Pérez does not make decisions based on who hugs whom. He makes decisions based on the league table and the Champions League bracket, and right now, both are painting a grim picture.
The "Delicate" Trap
Perhaps the most alarming aspect of the defeat to Manchester City wasn't the scoreline, but Alonso's assessment of it. He described his team’s state as "delicate." He admitted that City turned the game around with "very little."
This is an admission of fragility that should send shivers down the spine of every Madridista. Real Madrid is built on a foundation of arrogance and invincibility. This is the club of Remontadas, the club that laughs in the face of logic to steal victories from the jaws of defeat. For the manager to describe the squad as fragile—to admit that a single gust of wind from Manchester City toppled their house of cards—is a damning indictment of the mental fortitude he has instilled.
A Crisis by the Numbers
- Two losses in four days: A statistic that usually precedes a "vote of confidence" from the board.
- Rodrygo's Drought: Nine months without a goal is unacceptable for a Real Madrid attacker, regardless of the system.
- Defensive Frailty: Conceding the lead almost immediately after taking it shows a lack of concentration and leadership.
When Alonso says City won with "very little," he is trying to suggest Madrid were unlucky. I see it differently. If an opponent can beat you without getting out of second gear, you aren't unlucky; you are inferior. You are soft. City smelled blood in the water. They realized that despite the noise and the intensity, this Madrid side lacks the steel to hold onto a winning position.
The Ghost of Expectations Past
We need to stop grading Alonso on a curve because he was a legendary player and a promising young coach at Leverkusen. The "Invincibles" season in Germany was historic, but the Bundesliga is not La Liga, and Leverkusen is not Real Madrid. The pressure here is not hydraulic; it is nuclear.
Two losses in four days is a full-blown crisis in the Spanish capital. The press doesn't care about "renewed intensity." Intensity is what you praise a mid-table team for when they lose 1-0 to the champions. Intensity is a participation trophy. Real Madrid requires dominance.
The thin line Alonso is walking is fraying rapidly. Dressing room backing is a notoriously fickle thing. Players back a manager right up until the moment they realize he can no longer protect them from the fans' ire. Once the white handkerchiefs start waving in the stands, Rodrygo’s hugs will cease, and the preservation of self-interest will take over.
The Verdict
How long can a "positive reaction" make up for negative results? The answer is simple: it can't. Not anymore. We are past the point of moral victories. The honeymoon period wasn't just short; it never really started. Alonso arrived with the weight of the world on his shoulders, and right now, his knees are buckling.
The narrative needs to shift from "look how united they are" to "why can't they defend a lead?" If Xabi Alonso wants to remain in the dugout, he needs to trade the emotional displays for tactical ruthlessness. He needs to stop being the nice guy the players want to hug and start being the ruthless winner the club demands. Because in Madrid, love doesn't keep you in a job. Silverware does. And right now, the only thing Alonso is collecting is sympathy.
The Scene: The roar inside the Santiago Bernabéu was not one of triumph, but of relief mixed with desperation. When the ball finally struck the back of the net, ending a drought that felt geological in its duration, the scorer did not wheel away to the corner flag to bask in personal glory. Instead, Rodrygo turned and sprinted—with more purpose than he has shown on the wing all season—straight for the technical area. He buried his face in Xabi Alonso’s shoulder, a public embrace designed to scream "we are together" to the skeptics in the stands. It was a touching moment of human connection amidst the cold machinery of elite football. But ten minutes later, the stadium was silent, the lead was gone, and that warm embrace had turned cold. The scoreboard read 2-1 to Manchester City, and the gesture of unity suddenly looked less like a battle cry and more like a farewell.
Let’s cut through the sentimental noise. We are being sold a narrative of solidarity, a story of a dressing room that will run through brick walls for their manager. But at Real Madrid, running through a wall is the bare minimum requirement. The problem isn't the effort; it's that Xabi Alonso’s side keeps crashing into the wall and expecting applause for the bruise.
The Currency of “Good Vibes” is Worthless
Rodrygo’s post-match comments were predictable. "I wanted to show people that we are together with the coach," he said. It is a sentiment as noble as it is irrelevant. In the cutthroat ecosystem of the European elite, unity is often the last refuge of the failing. Winning teams don't need to perform public displays of affection to prove they are functional. Winning teams simply win.
Consider the stark reality of Rodrygo’s situation. Here is a forward playing for the most demanding club on earth, who had not scored in nine months. Let that sink in. Nine months. In that time, babies are born, seasons change, and managers usually get sacked. That he was starting only his fifth game of the season speaks volumes about the tactical confusion currently plaguing the Bernabéu. The goal against Gianluigi Donnarumma was a moment of release, yes, but one goal does not erase nearly a year of ghostly performances.
"Unity is the consolation prize of the loser. The Santiago Bernabéu is not a therapy center; it is a trophy factory. If the players love Alonso so much, they should try defending a lead rather than hugging him."
The optics of the hug suggest a squad that is aware their leader is on the scaffold. It was a protective gesture, shielding Alonso from the inevitability of the sack. But Florentino Pérez does not make decisions based on who hugs whom. He makes decisions based on the league table and the Champions League bracket, and right now, both are painting a grim picture.
The "Delicate" Trap
Perhaps the most alarming aspect of the defeat to Manchester City wasn't the scoreline, but Alonso's assessment of it. He described his team’s state as "delicate." He admitted that City turned the game around with "very little."
This is an admission of fragility that should send shivers down the spine of every Madridista. Real Madrid is built on a foundation of arrogance and invincibility. This is the club of Remontadas, the club that laughs in the face of logic to steal victories from the jaws of defeat. For the manager to describe the squad as fragile—to admit that a single gust of wind from Manchester City toppled their house of cards—is a damning indictment of the mental fortitude he has instilled.
A Crisis by the Numbers
- Two losses in four days: A statistic that usually precedes a "vote of confidence" from the board.
- Rodrygo's Drought: Nine months without a goal is unacceptable for a Real Madrid attacker, regardless of the system.
- Defensive Frailty: Conceding the lead almost immediately after taking it shows a lack of concentration and leadership.
When Alonso says City won with "very little," he is trying to suggest Madrid were unlucky. I see it differently. If an opponent can beat you without getting out of second gear, you aren't unlucky; you are inferior. You are soft. City smelled blood in the water. They realized that despite the noise and the intensity, this Madrid side lacks the steel to hold onto a winning position.
The Ghost of Expectations Past
We need to stop grading Alonso on a curve because he was a legendary player and a promising young coach at Leverkusen. The "Invincibles" season in Germany was historic, but the Bundesliga is not La Liga, and Leverkusen is not Real Madrid. The pressure here is not hydraulic; it is nuclear.
Two losses in four days is a full-blown crisis in the Spanish capital. The press doesn't care about "renewed intensity." Intensity is what you praise a mid-table team for when they lose 1-0 to the champions. Intensity is a participation trophy. Real Madrid requires dominance.
The thin line Alonso is walking is fraying rapidly. Dressing room backing is a notoriously fickle thing. Players back a manager right up until the moment they realize he can no longer protect them from the fans' ire. Once the white handkerchiefs start waving in the stands, Rodrygo’s hugs will cease, and the preservation of self-interest will take over.
The Verdict
How long can a "positive reaction" make up for negative results? The answer is simple: it can't. Not anymore. We are past the point of moral victories. The honeymoon period wasn't just short; it never really started. Alonso arrived with the weight of the world on his shoulders, and right now, his knees are buckling.
The narrative needs to shift from "look how united they are" to "why can't they defend a lead?" If Xabi Alonso wants to remain in the dugout, he needs to trade the emotional displays for tactical ruthlessness. He needs to stop being the nice guy the players want to hug and start being the ruthless winner the club demands. Because in Madrid, love doesn't keep you in a job. Silverware does. And right now, the only thing Alonso is collecting is sympathy.