The great Cr7. The huge De Ligt. The progress of the Texan and Kulusevski. Morata’s sense of goal. Bentancur’s big party. Danilo’s confirmation. The safety of Alex Sandro. The longevity of Gigi Buffon. Pirlo’s mastery on the bench. All true in Juventus’ brilliant match in Parma. But also the confirmation of what had been understood for some time. There is a Juventus with Ramsey. And there is one without Ramsey. Welsh is the genie of the lamp. So: may the Goddess keep him from recurring muscle woes. The Welshman has no replacement for his role.
He didn’t play Dybala, at the Tardini. Some say it is a “case”. For me it is not. But it could become. If Pirlo is not convinced of a sunny truth: Dybala has no role. Midfielder? Bullshit. Attacking midfielder? Bullshit. Second striker? Bullshit. Dybala is an atypical center forward. If you rely on Dybala you must also take into account his anarchy. His indulging in inspiration. There is nothing tactical about the Dybala which skips a couple of them and then ends unstoppably. The talk about his temperament, his continuity, his registry, his irrelevance in the races that count, his contract to be renewed, are zero. Dybala you take it as it is. If you try to change it, you lose it. Now it is clear that Pirlo has developed a car that, with Morata, Ronaldo and a winger, is biting the road. A trident with the Iberian, the Portuguese and the Argentine does not seem sustainable from a midfield with the characteristics of that of Juventus. Then Dybala will enter the rotations, as an alternative to Morata. Then in June we will see. Of course – in the event of a separation – if Juve does not want to lose his capital, Dybala will have to let him play. Like it or not what Dybala sees as smoke in the eyes.
Warning to mariners: never get depressed when things turn wrong. Never get excited for a 0-4 in Parma. Enjoy it: then bend your back and pedal. When the same scoreboard can be shown against Milan or Inter or Napoli (when it will be played) then a prosecchino can be uncorked.
Little has changed in the standings. There are those who confirm (with merit) their thaumaturgical year by scoring at the whistle at the start of the match. And there are those who, despite playing badly, clinging to the canonical rigor of the day, continue in the victorious streak. This is how tournaments are won: earning penalties and believing them to the end. The championship is a cross-country race. And some coaches in the fund (understood without misunderstanding, mind you) are specialists.
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