The race you don’t expect. We thought of a Cagliari unleashed after the three consecutive exploits against the “big” teams and we feared a Grifone emptied of stimuli and energy and instead the Marassino postponement turned into a health walk for the hosts or, to stay in sporting language, in a placid training session, not even at a high pace.
Frankly, discerning between the merits of the Grifo and the contingent limitations of the islanders is too sophisticated a matter. Let’s stop and talk about an absolute monologue from the hosts, from the first to the 93rd minute, as if there were three categories of difference between the two teams.
Genoa certainly couldn’t have celebrated the arithmetic salvation achieved better – combinations in hand – even before taking the field. The people demanded a dignified performance after the last home performances to forget and left the Ferraris intoxicated with joy and satisfied in every respect. Rarely, perhaps never, during the championship have we seen such an authoritarian and dominating Grifo even in midfield, the usually most critical area. Badelj and his teammates disposed of their opponents as they pleased, maneuvering without opposition, with admirable ease, but the defenders were also furious, in their area and in that of others.
This time, the working class went to heaven. The first seal is magnificent, thanks to Morten Thorsby, the usual reserve. His feet are plebeian, but the header is regal, preceded by incomparable elevations and completed with unique precision and effectiveness. On this occasion, following Sabelli’s cross, the Norwegian rose… to the third floor, full of power and precision, hitting the far corner: a ballistic feat.
Ten minutes later, here comes the toiling prince, the other Morten, whose surname is Frendrup, whose calibrated platter sent the leather right to the crossroads: more thunderous applause.
Yet another gem from the master playmaker was missing, arriving regularly late in the second half: who other than Gudmundsson could take advantage of a favorable rebound to nonchalantly wedge the ball to the root of the post to Scuffet’s left? The Icelandic is this: during the match he will have touched himself and not a dozen balls, but without wasting a single one.
On the other hand – and this is the only false note in this masterful Genoa symphony – Retegui, eagerly awaited at the gate, stumbled upon an evening of nightmares. An off-target attempt in the first half encapsulates his entire highly inadequate performance, marked by errors of all kinds in the clearance and zero or almost zero held balls. To what can we attribute this impasse to him? To poor form or to the stress of having to defend the blue shirt from Scamacca’s assault at all costs? Frankly, the center forward seemed unpresentable.
For the rest, very high marks not only for the scorers. Worth mentioning is the performance of De Winter, impeccable as a defender and twice very close to scoring, but Sabelli, Martin, the usual Vasquez and the controversial Vogliacco, this time diligent and concentrated, also stood out and Badelj, who perhaps doesn’t remember Having never enjoyed so much freedom, he distilled tactical sagacity in abundance.
Thus, without even struggling, the Ligurian rossoblù rose to 42, the seasonal goal set by Alberto Gilardino: it seemed like pure utopia and instead it was achieved four rounds early and deservedly so. And Monza is there, just two points away: there’s no shortage of time to grab it and put the arrow on it.
PIERLUIGI GAMBINO
