Rivalries aren’t defined by how clubs live together despite their differences; they’re defined precisely by those differences, by that very essence that sets them apart. Real Madrid and Atletico de Madrid signify these differences perhaps like no other rivals.
On the night of May 10, 2017, the second leg of a Champions League semi-final balanced nervously at 4-4 on aggregate, Real Madrid holding a slender but decisive advantage on away goals, when suddenly the sky opened and rain came crashing down upon everyone packed inside the Vicente Calderón—a stadium counting down its final days, hosting its last-ever European Derby.
Real Madrid arrived at the Calderón holding a seemingly comfortable 3-0 lead from the Bernabéu, but comfort doesn’t survive long in games like this. By the 16th minute, Atlético had torn two goals back, threatening to vaporise Madrid’s advantage in a frenzy of noise and emotion. And then it happened: Karim Benzema, trapped by the touchline, conjured something extraordinary—twisting, turning, leaving Atlético’s defenders dizzy, confused, and collapsed helplessly on the sodden grass—before slipping free. From there, Isco delivered the fatal blow, hammering home the away goal that would finally, inevitably, carry Real Madrid back to yet another European final.
As the rain hammered down relentlessly, the two sets of supporters, drenched yet defiant, captured precisely what made this rivalry special. On one side, Atlético fans stood shoulder to shoulder, arms interlocked, defiantly celebrating a victory that would only exist in the fine print, a bittersweet triumph of a second-leg win with no trophy to follow. Opposite them, far fewer in number but no less passionate, the Real Madrid faithful sang their hearts out—celebrating another passage to the Champions League final.
A huge part of Atlético’s identity—perhaps the very foundation of it—is built on opposition. They define themselves by what they are not, and, more pointedly, by whom they are not. Not Madrid. Not privileged. Not spoiled by success, nor burdened by expectation. Yet, in football, the game that binds these two together in perpetual opposition, success is what directly separates them. To embrace the identity of not being Real Madrid is implicitly to accept being less successful. Atlético may find pride—even meaning—in being unlike Madrid, but the reality is, Madrid would never object to that distinction. Real Madrid likes that distinction.
Real Madrid eliminated Atletico Madrid out of the Champions League in four consecutive seasons between 2014 and 2017. The fateful night at the Calderon in question—was the closest Atletico got to landing the ultimate blow to Real Madrid—however, they fell short. Being really great but falling just short of greatness has also defined Atletico over decades, perhaps their will to not be like Real Madrid actually goes uncomfortably too far.
Real Madrid will play their first-ever European derby at the Metropolitano today—but the stadium’s brief derby history has rarely delivered football worth celebrating. Recent meetings at Atletico’s new home have been defined less by football and more by racist abuse targeting Vinicius Jr from sections of Atletico’s support, thrown objects interrupting play etc.
Which derby awaits tonight—one defined by football itself, or another overshadowed by senselessness off the pitch?