Thrylos 7 International
·9 février 2026
A Derby Defeat on a Day That Isn’t Just “Another Derby”

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Yahoo sportsThrylos 7 International
·9 février 2026


There are losses that hurt because of the table. And there are losses that cut deeper because of the date on the calendar. This was the latter. Olympiacos vs Panathinaikos is always loaded: history, rivalry, pressure, ego. But this one came wrapped in something heavier. The Gate 7 anniversary isn’t a “moment” in the pre-match build-up. It’s part of the club’s identity. Forty-five years on, the names still land like a punch. The tribute, the atmosphere, the sense of responsibility… it amplifies everything.
Which is why the question that echoed around Karaiskakis and everywhere else in Greece and the red-and-white diaspora was brutally simple: How do you lose that game today?
Not to a Panathinaikos side flying. Not to a rival at its peak. But to a Panathinaikos that looks like it’s in one of the worst situations we’ve seen in years and still walked out with three points. And that’s where the night turns from mourning into football accountability.
The tribute created a stadium-level emotional charge. Goosebumps, tears, pride. It should have been oxygen.
Instead, it became either:
Either explanation is damning. Because the performance didn’t match the moment. Not even close. And what made it worse is that Panathinaikos didn’t come to play a derby in the traditional sense. They came to park the bus: deep block, three compact lines, force us wide, live off transitions. Respectable as a plan. Frustrating that it worked… again.
This is the kind of decision that doesn’t just lose a match; it creates a crisis of logic. Olympiacos signed a winger on a potential record fee. A player who, by our own assessment, has looked useful every minute so far. A derby at home. A day of remembrance. A low block opponent you need to destabilise. Major head scratcher.
The 4-4-2 / two striker setup hasn’t worked in Greece in the big games. When the plan becomes “cross, recycle, cross, recycle,” you’re not using two strikers; you’re just stacking bodies waiting for deliveries that don’t come in the right quality. And worse: it squeezes out the players who actually make Mendilibar-ball function.
If there’s one “Mendi profile” that matches pressing, intensity, second balls, and glue play, it’s Chiquinho. You don’t need him to be a luxury 10. You need him to be the guy who drags the team up the pitch by force of effort.
Not starting him in a match like this felt like choosing rigidity over logic.
Olympiacos had around 70% possession. Yet the lineup leaned conservative: two defensive midfielders together, two right backs on the wing and a general structure that naturally pushes you into wide play and crossing. That’s the problem: Mendilibar’s Greece opponents know exactly where the ball is going.
This might be the most revealing part of the discussion: the team looks like it has two personalities.
Even when we don’t “play amazing,” the effort level is there.
In Europe you can run. In Greece you have to create. Right now, the team looks far more comfortable doing the first than the second. And that’s why the most memorable “good football” examples fans cite this season are PSV, Arsenal in terms of effort, Leverkusen in terms of intensity intensity; not league performances. It’s not coincidence. It’s profile and approach and opponent behaviour colliding.
Even with the tactical complaints, Olympiacos still had the game in its hands. But football punishes waste.
Without a midfielder who consistently receives on the half-turn and plays forward, the ball naturally goes:
It’s a loop. Panathinaikos were happy to live inside it.
Taremi is basically the only consistent end-product source lately: 7 goal contributions in 8 matches before this. Yet he’s used in ways that dilute his strengths. Then you get the moment that will haunt everyone: Gelson Martins missing from under the bar at point blank range. You can talk tactics all night, but derbies are often decided by one action, one touch, one finish. That miss didn’t just cost an equaliser; it poured gasoline on every criticism: lack of composure, lack of ruthlessness, lack of “today matters.” And Panathinaikos’ goal? Early, fortunate, chaotic.
Your show basically laid out the opposition manual:
It worked for others. It worked again here. And the scary part isn’t this one match, it’s the trend: derby results have not matched squad quality. That matters because the playoffs are basically six derbies with a title attached.
Not winning the league with this squad would be a travesty. But wanting it doesn’t win it. Adjustments do.
One striker. More connectors. More movement behind him. More pressing balance.
Fans can handle a bad day. What drains them is feeling like the team is constantly being re-invented in matches where clarity is needed most.
Even if he’s not starting, a winger with that profile is exactly how you break monotony late: fresh legs, direct running, disruption.
Whether it’s Chiquinho deeper, a different midfield pairing, or a structural tweak; something has to change so the team can create through the middle sometimes, not as an accident. Will we ever see Yusuf Yazici play as a ten?
If the confidence has been rocked following that miss in the final of AFCON, you don’t solve it by pretending it doesn’t exist. You solve it by protecting him from being the automatic answer until he looks like himself again.
Levadiakos away is exactly the kind of match where a wounded Olympiacos either responds like champions… or spirals into the same sterile domination without incision. Then Europe arrives, where intensity usually returns but you can’t live as a “two-mode” team if you want trophies.
This defeat wasn’t “just a bad night.” It was a reminder that:
On a day of remembrance, the club reminded everyone what Olympiacos means. Now the team has to show it.
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