Simeone has turned Atletico into one big Simeone.

The only thing that was missing was an iguana on his shoulder. Besides that last Wednesday during the game Atletico Madrid – Barcelona, Diego Simeone looked like the head of a Colombian drugs cartel from a James Bond movie. His suit was black, his shirt was black and his tie was black. He had combed his sticky black hair backwards. The skin of his face was so pockmarked that it looked as if was covered with scars. En every time he laughed somewhere else on the world a hundred downy chicks died.

The entire match I looked at him with open mouth. How he played with the crowd. How he secretly got in the way of a Barcelona player trying to make a throw in. How he asked for a card whenever a tackle was made on one of his players. How he killed the fourth referee (who complained about him leaving his coaching square) with his stare. What an asshole. What a delightfully disgusting face. What a charisma. Don Diego Simeone is the classic bad guy from a movie, but disguised as the manager of a Spanish football club.

In the past as a football Simeone was already a bad guy. He kicked his opponents across the ad boards, tackles players with two legs stretched out and whenever possible he tried to lure his opponents into getting a red card. But as a manager Simeone fits his role even better. He has made his team into one big Diego Simeone: his players rush across the field with rage in their eyes, they walk straight through opponents, they hunt the ball as a pack of hungry wolves on a deer – and oh yes, they can play great football as well. The crowd cried of happiness at every counter. At last the ideal sons, the boring Catalans, the ballerinas of Barcelona were mercilessly crushed. Atletico played so intense that I at home on my couch was out of breath. The only one who didn’t show a hint of emotion was Don Diego himself.

Simeone is the improved version of Jose Mourinho. He is scarier. He did not cultivate his ugly face for nothing with brylcreem coupe and undertaker suit. I suspect him of letting his players do their running sessions by letting a bunch of Rottweilers loose on them. Contract negotiations he does by hanging players at their ankles above a sharktank. ‘Tell my boy. Do you sign your contract, or would you rather take a bad with my sweethearts?’ And the first journalist who tries to ask a critical question will wake up the next morning with a horsehead in his bed.

Simeone doesn’t do patience. He doesn’t wait on success. He takes what he wants. In one and a half month when his team stands in the finale of the Champions League. Which he will win, because in real life the bad guys always win. When he gets the cup with the big ears in his hands, he will see his own reflection in its metal. And he will see that something is missing.

The next morning he will buy an iguana.