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If the doubters could still explain away André's first goal as luck—right place, right time, fortunate deflection—then what happened in stoppage time erased any room for excuses.
André received a pass from Griezmann on the left side, just outside the penalty area. Chest control. A sharp turn. Then a volley struck with vicious precision, the ball bending through the air in an exaggerated arc before nestling into the narrow gap between the left post and the crossbar.
An absolute dead angle. Unsaveable.
After scoring, André stood in front of the Real Madrid goal and spread his arms wide. His face was completely blank. No emotion. No celebration. Just... presence.
The Real Madrid supporters fell silent.
On the touchline, Simeone mirrored the gesture exactly—arms spread, face expressionless. As if they'd rehearsed it. As if some invisible thread connected manager and player in that moment.
All doubts about André, about Simeone's substitution strategy, evaporated in an instant. What remained was pure admiration. For André's monstrous talent. For Simeone's eye for greatness.
High above the pitch, in one of the Wanda Metropolitano's private boxes, Real Madrid president Florentino Pérez watched the Atlético celebration with a stony expression.
Beside him sat Zinedine Zidane—the man who had recently stepped down as Real Madrid's head coach, departing on his own terms after delivering three consecutive Champions League titles.
"Come back."
Two words. Florentino's voice was flat, but the meaning was clear: Solari had lost his confidence.
Zidane neither accepted nor refused. Instead, he raised a different matter.
"That boy once belonged to Real Madrid. You know this. But somehow, a talent like that couldn't establish himself at Castilla."
Florentino's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
"You'll have full authority," he said. "The Bernabéu and Castilla—both. If you want the boy, I'll buy him back. But only if you return."
Zidane had used André's situation to highlight Real Madrid's deeper problems. Florentino understood immediately and made his offer without hesitation.
But he didn't wait for an answer. After speaking, the president stood and walked out of the box, leaving the stadium entirely. For a man like Florentino, an away league match—even one hyped as the Madrid Derby—wasn't worth watching to the final whistle. The result didn't matter that much to him. If it weren't for Zidane, he wouldn't have come at all.
Watching Florentino's retreating figure, Zidane shook his head slowly. Then he turned his attention back to the pitch.
2-2.
In the dying moments of the first half, André had blasted a world-class strike from just outside the penalty area to drag Atlético level.
Seconds after the restart, the referee blew for halftime.
The scoreline defied all expectations. At kick-off, everyone had anticipated a fierce, closely contested match. What they'd witnessed was a rollercoaster.
First, Atlético had inexplicably fallen two goals behind with a man sent off. At that point, conventional wisdom said they were finished. But Simeone had used his substitution to send a message: I refuse to accept this. I'd rather die on my feet than live on my knees.
Then came the doubts about trusting a seventeen-year-old with the team's hopes. And amidst those doubts, André had scored twice in less than ten minutes, single-handedly dragging ten-man Atlético back into the match.
Drama. Pure, unadulterated drama.
The halftime break ended. Both teams returned to the pitch.
On the Real Madrid side, Solari had made a change: Gareth Bale replaced Vinícius Júnior. A like-for-like swap on paper, but the message was clear—Solari was unhappy with the team's attacking output in the final phase of the first half.
Simeone made no personnel changes. But his tactical adjustments were obvious from the moment the second half began.
Atlético's shape compressed dramatically. Only Griezmann and André remained positioned high during counter-attacks. Lemar, nominally on the right wing, spent most of his time dropping deep to help in midfield. The plan was clear: rely on the individual brilliance of Griezmann and André for attacking moments, while everyone else focused on defence.
The tactic crystallised further in the sixty-eighth minute when Atlético made another substitution: Rodri replaced Lemar.
Rodri appeared in a right midfield position on paper, but in practice, he functioned as a third defensive midfielder. Simeone was locking down the game.
The adjustment left André and Griezmann increasingly isolated up front. Following André's consecutive goals, Real Madrid had tightened their marking significantly. Whenever André received the ball, at least two defenders swarmed him. If he wasn't in a dangerous area, they fouled him immediately rather than let him settle.
The second half felt subdued compared to the first. Both teams prioritised solidity over ambition. The match remained intense—but it lacked the first half's brilliance.
Ninety minutes elapsed. Three minutes of stoppage time ticked away.
The referee blew the final whistle.
2-2.
The second league meeting between these rivals had ended in a draw.
Neither manager could hide his frustration. Splitting the points ultimately benefited Barcelona, who sat top of the table and would extend their advantage regardless of today's result.
But minutes later, news arrived from the Camp Nou: Barcelona had been held to a goalless draw away at Athletic Bilbao.
Suddenly, the result felt far more acceptable.
At the post-match press conference, a Marca reporter fired the first question at Simeone before he'd even settled into his seat.
"When Atlético were down to ten men in the first half, why did you choose to push André to the very front? Weren't you worried? He's only seventeen."
Simeone leaned into the microphone.
"He's my player. I understand him better than anyone." His voice was calm, certain. "He has an extraordinary mentality. Immense talent. I've seen his form in training, his dedication to the game. I know exactly what he's capable of." A pause. "That's why I chose to trust him."
The questions kept coming, but Simeone had already said everything that mattered.
Trust.
Sometimes that was all it took.
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