At one minute past midnight a self-declared madman sent the Santiago Bernabéu into a state of delirium and Real Madrid into the final of the Copa del Rey. El Loco leaped above the Real Sociedad defence and then into the stands at the north end of this stadium, where supporters had seen their team go and do it again, their way.
It had been long, it had been wild, and somehow they were the ones celebrating, which it seems they always are. Madrid did not win and were not always very good until they were irresistible, but it was enough.
Three times they had trailed but ultimately a draw, secured by the thumping forehead of Antonio Rüdiger in the 115th minute, was enough. A game that went from 0-1 to 1-1, 1-3 to 3-3, and then 3-4 finished 4-4.
Real Sociedad became the first team, beyond Barcelona, to come here and score four since they did so themselves en route to winning the cup four years ago; this time it is Real Madrid, 5-4 winners on aggregate, somehow surviving again, who will be in Seville, where Atlético Madrid or Barcelona will await.
This semi-final had the ending everyone expected, the Bernabéu bouncing about; it was just the journey there no one anticipated, nor how close Real Sociedad came.
Few truly thought that Real Sociedad had any chance of going through. Defeated in the first leg, they were eliminated at Old Trafford next, had a solitary win in five weeks – an unconvincing 2-1 victory against virtually relegated Real Valladolid – and were without the injured Brais Méndez.
The coach Imanol Alguacil, though, had said he could see it. Fifteen minutes into the game, suddenly others could too. What no one expected, even then, was for the feeling to last so long.
La Real had started well, keeping the ball out of reach of a passive Madrid and then, in a flash, releasing it into the space behind them to open the scoring. Martín Zubimendi provided the first telling pass, Madrid drawn in and then cut open. Pablo Marín nodded it on, aware of the run over his shoulder, and there was Ander Barrenetxea dashing into a familiar space, behind Lucas Vázquez. Cutting into the penalty area from the left, he guided his finish under Andriy Lunin and into the net.
For all that this was a Copa del Rey semi-final, there had been little sense of jeopardy or urgency, and now the tie was level. Maybe this was on after all or maybe Madrid would react now they had to, which tends to be the way. Instead, they kind of carried on. It is not that they hadn’t had half chances before – Endrick had tried an outrageous overhead kick after Igor Zubeldia had allowed the ball to bounce inside the area and Álex Remiro had pushed away a Vinícius Júnior effort – and nor was there a sudden acceleration either, that typical bugle call from the Bernabéu.
There was time, after all. Talent, too. A sharp turn led to Jude Bellingham escaping and shooting wide before Rodrygo’s effort flashed past the post, and they got the equaliser.
It was a wonderful goal, Vinícius bent a superb pass with the outside of his boot from inside his own half. The ball drew the perfect trajectory, just away from Zubeldia, and Endrick ran through to scoop it over Remiro. Real Sociedad’s lead had lasted 15 minutes. Normal service resumed?
That was kind of how it felt and therein perhaps lay the trap, a failure from Madrid to appreciate how close they were to the edge. Only they always find a way to escape that fate. Endrick opened the second half running at Real Sociedad on the left and almost setting up Rodrygo on the edge of the six-yard box.
From the corner, Bellingham headed wide from barely a yard and got a full goalkeeper glove in his face for it. The Englishman also had a 20-yard shot pushed away by Remiro just after the hour. At the other end, a dreadful error from Eduardo Camavinga almost gifted Real Sociedad a goal.
Otherwise, not very much was happening, a few frustrated whistles occasionally greeting Madrid’s more plodding passages of play and the looser passes, those moments when it seemed they were wilfully, almost sleepily, ambling into dangerous territory, offering the visitors an opportunity. As if sure that at some point they would score and it would be done.
That risk was underlined when, with 20 minutes to go, Lunin had to make a superb save from Zubimendi’s side-foot volley. From two yards and a tight angle, Mikel Oyarzabal put the shot over. Then, a moment later, it happened. Takefusa Kubo ran at Madrid, deep into the area, and although the ball was blocked it came to Marín who went at them again, delivering a low ball that went in off David Alaba.
Madrid had put on Kylian Mbappé by then – not a bad substitute to have – but they did not shake themselves out of this, not just yet. It was Real Sociedad that threatened more, far more, Zubimendi swiping at another volley from yet another corner, the numbers racking up swiftly. This time, he missed; the next time Real Sociedad advanced, they scored.
Kubo ran at them again, stepping away from Luka Modric and Raúl Asencio and laying the ball back to Oyarzabal, whose shot hit Alaba first, the post second, Lunin third and the net fourth. Real Sociedad were 3-1 up, 3-2 on aggregate and on their way through.
Now Madrid reacted, now this stadium stood, now they made a noise, and now what happens here happened. Barely a minute had passed by when Vinícius, for whom Carlo Ancelotti had had angry words before, raced up the left and delivered a perfect cross for Bellingham to guide in a volley.
It was level now but there were still eight minutes left and that is an eternity to them, Aurelién Tchouaméni rising to bring the final rumble of thunder and a place in the final, or so it seemed.
Instead it turned out that eight minutes really was an eternity, time enough for so much to happen, for football to do its magic again; for Madrid to experience, if only for a little while, what they so often inflict on others and seemed to have just inflicted on Sociedad. Again, it was Kubo, who had torn into them all night.
This time, Camavinga came across and wiped him out. But one last, violent service for the cause was not the salvation he had expected, because from the free kick Sergio Gómez’s wonderful inswinging delivery, just out of reach of Lunin’s right hand, was headed in by Oyarzabal.
Amazingly, there was still time for Bellingham’s diving header to be brilliantly saved by Remiro, but half an hour more awaited.
Exhausted now, Sociedad were hanging on, Madrid running at them, Vinícius seeming never to tire. If anything, he was getting faster, if only in comparison with those around him. He was also more determined, a one-man whirlwind. He struck the side-netting on one side and had another shot blocked as defenders backed off. Mbappé had two chances as well: the first flew over; for the second he lifted the ball over Zubeldia five yards out and tried to head past Remiro.
Still Madrid came, but there was no way through, penalties came closer, and you started to wonder if this time, maybe, just maybe, it would have a different end. And then, rising above them all, was just the right man to drive everyone wild.
