The Spiderman and the mutant turtle were in town for the first time but someone else had to save the day. So along came the little bird, the little prince, the great big cucumber, Brahim, the boy Bobby and sweet potato. Then there was the Resurrección. Madrid is hot and empty in August, or it’s supposed to be, metal shutters down and scribbled signs up saying see you in September, but there were 140,744 people combined at the Santiago Bernabéu, Butarque and the Metropolitano this Sunday, excitement building as the capital’s teams came home for another season, kicking off at 5pm, 7pm and 9.30pm, from one end of the metro to the other and back again. They had come to see Leganés return to primera, a 2-1 win over Las Palmas set up by a belting shot from Juan Cruz, who is now running at a goal and a hair style a game, the latest like some comedy 70s wig in two tones, AS’s headline declaring: “Cruz is a cucumber”. And the night before, another 9,529 were at the Coliseum for Getafe against Rayo Vallecano, but they didn’t see anything: for the first time this century, a La Liga match went by without a single shot on target. Mostly, though, they came to watch those two, world cup winners and new heroes for a new era, cartoon characters capturing everyone’s attention. Sunday was their day, all set up that way, everyone at it. It had taken seven years for Kylian Mbappé to arrive at Real Madrid and €75m for Julián Álvarez to turn up at Atlético Madrid. They had been presented, 110,000 there just for that, a bit of waving and a word or three; now, they would actually play. Mbappé, the man they call the turtle, with the features of Donatello and his mask too, and Álvarez, the striker whose brother Rafael called him the spider when he was four because he seemed to have a lot of legs, a nickname which has caught on, wearer of a mask of his own. At the Bernabéu, where some sinister bad guy has swept away all the stalls selling sweets and sunflower seeds, there were Mbappé shirts everywhere. At the Metropolitano, the new shirt with the old badge back on it, a rare victory for popular pressure, accompanied Spiderman gear. In the south stand, one kid came in an entire costume, so much the better for being so clearly homemade. “Mbappé arrives home”; “Mbappé, this is your home,” cheered the front of the national sports dailies. When it came to Atlético, Marca went for “the spider takes the stage” and AS called it “Spider time”, quoting the Cure. On candy stripe legs the spiderman comes, the most exciting signing for years, up there with Paulo Futre in 1987. That was Sunday morning. By the end of the night, Atlético’s players finally leaving the Metropolitano way after midnight, each of them with a pizza and a washbag under their arm, there were other things on everyone’s minds, if only for a little while. Mbappé had taken four shots, among them a smart volley, a flick inside the six yard box and a shot well wide as he raced clear, but didn’t score on his first home game as a Madrid player. Twenty minutes away by moped, east and out towards the airport from the Castellana, kicking off four and a half hours later, Álvarez was lively, the kind of player Diego Simeone will love, but had just one shot after seven minutes and didn’t score either. Instead, there was a reminder of the rest, a demonstration of strength in depth, a hint perhaps of battles to come: not least internally. At the Bernabéu, where the fans whistled off their team after a first half that even the mad Madridista Tomás Roncero called “flat, dull, anodyne, boring and predictable” it took a deflected free kick from Fede Valverde, el pajarito, the little bird, on 50 minutes for Madrid to find a way through against Valladolid. Then, on 88 and 96, with Rodrygo withdrawn and Vinícius and Mbappé eventually going too with a few minutes left, Brahim Díaz and that other new striker, the Brazilian Endrick, added two more. At the Metropolitano, another deflected free kick, this time from Griezmann – el principito or little prince – gave Atlético the lead against Girona late in a difficult first half. Then Marcos Llorente, the health food obsessive once known as Lettuce like his dad but whose teammates now call him Boniato, Sweet Potato, smashed in at the start of the second half. With Álvarez making way after 80 minutes, Koke Resurreción added a third on 94. This wasn’t what it was built up to be, which doesn’t mean it was bad. There is time and talent, alternatives too. Simeone has made much of trying to create competition among his players while Carlo Ancelotti’s message over the last two weeks has been all about the collective. After the Mallorca game, he said they had lacked attitude; here he talked about responsibility, an awareness of the delicate nature of building a team, every substitution pawed over. “It would be nice,” he said, “if players raised their hands and said they were tired. In 40 years it has never happened, so I have to decide who is tired. Choosing a team is complicated but it’s my responsibility. They could have a bit of responsibility in that sense. I am telling you because I have told them.” Not least because the subs can play too. For Atlético, Koke had come on a sub – “I have no commitment to anyone,” Simeone said – as had Reinildo, Ángel Correa, last season’s second top scorer Alex Sørloth, and, at the same time as his captain, Conor Gallagher. Cheered when he entered and cheered even louder when he took out Yangel Herrera, they’re going to like the former Chelsea man. “He has incredible intensity; he gave us oxygen,” defender José María Giménez said. “I was looking at the names of the players we have today and it is incredible. Any team in the world would want to have these players.” Madrid, meanwhile, turned to Luka Modric (who most expected to start ahead of Arda Guler in the absence of Jude Bellingham and Eduardo Camavinga), Dani Ceballos, Brahim and Endrick. The Brazilian with the hint of Tomas Brolin about him is 18 years and 36 days old, for some reason that baffles everyone says his idol was Bobby Charlton, hence the nickname, and had only been on the pitch for nine minutes when he received on the edge of the area, turned and hit a hard, flat shot in at the near post. Overwhelmed, he kissed the badge and prayed. He had just become Madrid’s youngest league goalscorer this century. “He looks very good,” Ancelotti said. And yet there was another glimpse here that the most important player this season might prove to be Valverde, the little bird they’re trying to rebrand the hawk. Not for the goal that saved the day, although that too, but for everything. Not least the kilometres he covers, which will be huge this season: endlessly running, bridging the gap between the four at the back and the four at the front, everywhere and all things to everyone, an example above all. Last year, Ancelotti said he was the key player, making it all work; this year that appears even more likely. If balance is needed as Madrid lean high and to the left, as they try to make the talent fit – and balance was the word the coach used – then Valverde is most likely to provide it. Not doing what Toni Kroos did – no one can – but helping the rest do what they do. The only person who doesn’t always benefit from Valverde, it sometimes seems, is Valverde, a victim of his responsibility and versatility. At times it can feel like he needs encouraging to make it about him, needs telling that he can do it, a bit of everything. “He’s a team player, that’s key to me always picking him,” Ancelotti said last season. “I think he can improve when he has more personality, more character. He’s humble. That’s a good thing, up to a point. I prefer a humble player to an arrogant one. But sometimes a bit of arrogance makes you a stronger character.” A couple of years ago, the Italian said that if Valverde didn’t score at least 10 goals he should tear up his coaching badge. The year before, the Uruguayan had scored one; that year he got 12. When Madrid won the crucial free kick on Sunday, it was 30 yards out, but the coach told him to take it, hard and low. As the ball skidded and flew into the net, Ancelotti stood on the touchline shrugging: I told you so. “He tells me a lot to practice with different teammates; sometimes there’s that shyness of not wanting to take the ball,” Valverde said. “It was his help, his encouragement; the goal is his.” Well, someone had to score it. It took a deflection, sure, but it was the first free kick Madrid had scored at the Bernabéu in six years; it was also the breakthrough. As Madrid celebrated at the fountain of Cibeles in May, the retiring Toni Kroos told the crowd “the No 8 is for this kid”, and turned to Valverde, who had admired the German but hadn’t dared tell him until then. “When Kroos left the club he chose the perfect player – not in quality but in mentality – to replace him,” Ancelotti said after the little bird had saved they day, 70,178 supporters setting out into the sunshine as, across the city, 60,414 made their way to the Metropolitano, and to the south Juan Cruz was battering one in at Butarque. “If there’s an irreplaceable, unsubstitutable player in this squad, it’s [Valverde], for his quality, strength, intelligence … we’re lucky to have him.”