So when the standard post‑match interview began with the standard post‑match question, an enquiry as to his thoughts on another defeat, he decided that, actually, no, this wasn’t going to be standard any more. Instead, he shot back: “You want to talk about football?! Or shall we talk about the other thing? That’s more important than a loss, don’t you think?”
Maybe this time, at last, some will begin to think so. If the Madrid manager didn’t feel much like talking about football, it was because Vinícius Júnior, the kid in his care, the 22-year-old winger who is probably the most electric, most exciting player in the Spanish league, a genuine superstar for a new generation, didn’t feel much like playing it any more.
Why would he, why should he, when as he arrived at Mestalla a group of fans gathered outside had chanted: “Vinícius, you’re a monkey”? When from the south stand he had been told the same? When he had been told that he was an idiot, an imbecile. When he had heard the “oooh, ooohs”?
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