When the final whistle went on Mallorca's match against Espanyol on Saturday night, Real Mallorca were fourth and in the Champions League having just won 2-0 and with Sevilla drawing 2-2 in Almería. Sevilla were a man down having had Alvaro Negredo sent off for the third time this season but rather than send on Luis Fabiano, the Brazilian striker who had scored 15 league goals in just 18 starts, coach Antonio Álvarez sent on a 19-year-old kid called Rodri who had played just four minutes. Four minutes had been added on, but the game was already well into the 93rd; the season was drawing to a close. It was nearly midnight and up in the presidential box, Sevilla's sporting director Monchi was silently, desperately saying a prayer.
Sevilla, in short, were doomed. Mallorca's players and staff gathered in the centre circle at the Son Moix, giant bottles of champagne at their feet, ready to be popped, and together with their fans watched the final 45 seconds on the scoreboard high in the stands, hastily switched to TV channel La Sexta. Even the club's cuddly devil mascot Dimoni – the real star of their campaign this season – was there with his squidgy pitchfork, forked tail and cheesy grin, sitting, oversized hands covering his great big googly foam eyes, heart in his gaping mouth, all ready to start celebrating in style.
And then, through the pixels, it happened. Jesús Navas's cross was knocked down and bounced up. High. Ten yards out. Rodri leapt vertically, flipped himself sideways and somehow volleyed it in; 3-2, 93rd minute, fourth place! Crisis averted. A 19-year-old whom no one had ever heard of had just sent Sevilla into the Champions League with 45 seconds left. And sent Mallorca out. Cameras caught Monchi launching himself across the directors' box and into the arms of a colleague, practically humping him in delight. Back at the Son Moix, Mallorca's players slumped, like Striker's co-pilot with the valve removed. They just lay flat, motionless against the turf, tears in their eyes, unpopped bottles at their side. They say there's nothing worse than seeing a grown man cry but there is. Seeing a grown man in an acrylic devil costume cry. Seeing 35 grown men cry. In front of 20,000 fans. And live on television.
