Living in the United States hasn’t always been easy for football fans, the ones of the world’s version that is. The typical ethnocentric American sports fan endlessly preaches and complains about the lack of action in “soccer,” and by action he or she almost always means scoring. “How can you end in a tie?” and “What’s the point if no one even scores?” are some of the proverbial questions that eccentrics of the beautiful game encounter States side. And as heinous as those inquiries may seem to the rest of the world, they aren’t always the easiest to answer let alone explain to some narrow-minded audiences. Because as much resolving as you choose to submit to through fatiguing arguments, the doubting Thomases partial to the suction of Monday Night Football and the folk tunes of baseball’s Take Me Out to the Ballgame will make little effort to understand your points. They are set in their ways.

These were thoughts that flashed across my skull, sitting quietly in my living room this past Saturday, as the triple tweet from referee Mateu Lahoz terminated the final actions from Madrid, a scoreless draw between Atlético de Madrid and Barcelona. It was one of the more fascinating nil-nil score lines that I’d watched in quite some time. It had atmosphere, chances, a meeting of different styles and philosophies, and above all else a spider web of interwoven anecdotes and subplots fused together like welded steal. I flashed back to the school playground when I was boy, which happened to just be the vacant spaces in an asphalt faculty parking lot. If only the eleven year old me, a scuffed and peeling ball under my arm had access to the footage I’d just seen. An example for the masses it could have been in my quest to persuade the other boys to choose my round football over the coarse brown egg-shaped one that was being hurled around ubiquitously. I was beginning to think that I was the only one that saw the sports world differently, only to grow into the me that discovered I was actually the sane one living amongst the Earth’s minority.

In the build-up, Atlético v Barca at the Calderon was being talked about as the most anticipated La Liga fixture of season and to the shock of those with little interest, this was a Madrid against Barcelona game that doesn’t form an El Clasico. But an understandable degree of amnesty could very easily be permitted because if someone asked you a year ago what the biggest date on the La Liga calendar would be for the 2013-14 season, without hesitation you’d gruffly reply Real Madrid – Barcelona. Based on the last half decade of Spanish domestic football it’s what we’ve come to expect but with the Blaugrana and Atlético tied on 49 points before match kicked off, the ‘Real’ Madrid was wading in the shallow water five points behind.

The atmosphere in the stadium whistled like a kettle at Barcelona as the two teams trotted out on to the pitch by the Manzanares river, Atleti in their traditional colchonero stripes while Barca’s regionalistic Senyera (the flag of several autonomous regions in Eastern Spain, including Catalonia) gown gave you the impression that Grimace and the Hamburgler were somewhere nearby. A tifo was on show in a stuffy Vincente Calderon that depicted not only Atlético’s but also Spanish colors to represent the capital. Front and center was an illustration of four scowling aficionados partnered by a message to their team – Aplasta Atleti, essentially “Crush them, Atleti.”

While thumbing through Twitter to read the world’s thoughts on the game at hand seconds until kickoff, an established Brazilian football account seemed repelled that the Atleti crowd had booed Barcelona midfielder, Xavi, a decorated veteran of the national side. But before I could offer a friendly explanation, the swift world of instant communication more hastily came to the call of confusion. The responses were unanimous – Welcome to Spain.

Real Madrid, who undoubtedly tuned into televisions of there own, didn’t play until Sunday, a scheduled away match against another Barcelona based side, RCD Espanyol. Though the fixture would be a sticky affair as it always seems to be away from the Bernabéu, Ancelotti and company knew that if they could manage a win there, then they’d pick up whatever points were dropped by the respective rivals battling on the south side of town.

Battling is exactly the word to describe it all. Atlético Madrid started the match as madly animated as their fans and manager. Diego Simeone appeared a few questionable neck tattoos short of a stylish Hell’s Angel, clad in black head to toe with his slicked back hair petrified in place. His bark and his style is the face of Atlético Madrid today, a team working the studs off their boots and up for the odd scuffle should you brave enough to try. He’s organized the platoon into a disciplined 4-4-2 set up, a blockade defensively. As Barcelona attempted to sever their ranks, you could simply pick out Atleti’s two banks of four compact and stubborn with the remaining two strikers, Villa and Diego Costa lurking nearby for scraps like ravenous hyenas. The whole systematic personality of the Simeone’s outfit is intimidating even to the likes of Barca’s stars who weren’t quite a complete constellation with both Neymar and Messi starting next to Tito Vilanova in dugout, or bunker more likely.

Although Barcelona finally settled the match in part by assuring their nerves that it was just another game of football with a quarter hour played, the opening stages weren’t so secure. Simeone’s tactics were worrisome for the Catalans on account of Atlético Madrid’s directness and suffocating pressure. All and all the end result of a draw was fair, Atlético created several opportunities on the break but kept Barcelona’s possession at bay with gridlocked defending and the occasional wallop, conceding almost double the fouls.

A draw compromises the thin air at La Liga’s summit drawing the heavy weights closer together and keeping Barcelona top by goal differential. Spain, unlike other leagues, decides its tiebreaker by head-to-head meetings and the 0-0 draw did nothing to alter the standings in hardly any of the stats columns apart from games played. In lieu of the entertainment that the tense match provided, it marked the end of three statistical points – it was the first time Atlético failed to win at home this season, the first time Diego Costa had not scored at home this season, and the last match both Barcelona and Atleti would play in the first half of the campaign. The next time they meet up in the league? The last day of the season on the Mediterranean. Buckle up.

However, it was an ideal result for Madridistas that could peg both adversaries back to three points with a win of their own the following evening at the Cornellà-El Prat. The stable doors for this season’s dark horse could still yet spring open with half the matches still to play, inevitably one against each enemy. Nothing short of a win would suffice for Ronaldo and company on Sunday. A strong attendance conjured together with Real Madrid in town, as it is a safer venue for centralist ex-pats to cheer on los blancos than FC Barcelona’s Nou Camp. RCD Espanyol was even founded on the principle of being the more “Spanish” footballing club in the city where some are all too proud of it’s unique identity and often frown on being considered just another part of the idea that is Spain. Even some traditional Spanish flags were being waved in the farthest corners from the broadcast angle camera, opposed to the aforementioned Senyeras you’d expect in Barcelona. Seems confusing but again, welcome to Spain.

Madrid took their places before kickoff glowing in a stinging orange sunburst kit usually reserved for the away fixtures of this year’s Champions League but since the famous white and alternate blue clashed with Espanyol’s traditional stripes, it was a logical yet vibrant choice. Ancelotti’s side certainly didn’t start off the match as bright as their uniforms boldly suggested. The hosts began bravely with high pressure and a few quick corners that worried Real Madrid supporters into contemplating the shame of not being able to take advantage of the previous day’s events.

Ultimately, Madrid’s class proved too much though, and midway through the first half, Espanyol’s press was beginning to fade from increased unrewarded ball-chasing. A key face or two were missing from their preferred XI but it was Javier Aguirre’s colorful personality whose absence was most evident in los periquitos' technical area. The Mexican manager is serving a four-match ban for using equally colorful language, which he himself considers routine. Several banners around the ground played on the issue, surely aggravating the Spanish Footballing Federation.

Several warning shots in the first half went unrewarded with a scoreless opening 45, but before long a certain Portuguese broke the deadlock after the restart, though it may not be the Portuguese you expected. Pepe converted a firm a header from a set piece to score the match’s only goal. The outing was a bit closer than Ancelotti would have liked having crammed Ronaldo, Bale, Benzema, and Di María all in to the starting line up but for those who saw the game, know Ronaldo missed one or two sitters. I wouldn’t kick up too much dust about him not scoring in the last two matches. To do so would be the same to mock the sun for lack of shine; in a matter of days you’ll see it happening again. Perhaps CR7 had half an aiming eye on Monday’s Balon d’Or gala in Zurich. The majority has tipped comandante to finally strip the award from four-time winner Leo Messi.

Nonetheless, the laso is tightening around La Liga’s top three teams in what looks like a race too close to call. It’s a matter of noses and which one can sniff its way to the finish line first. Real still need to go the Vincente Calderon, Barcelona still need to go to the Bernabéu, and sure enough Atlético still need to go to the Camp Nou. The whole enigmatic equation is like a chemistry experiment with an expected controlled explosion at its finale that might just go wrong. For whom? I don’t quite know nor dare predict. What I do know is, the latest scoreless draw between Barcelona and Atlético Madrid just made things a whole lot more spicy. So there’s your answer to “How can you end in a tie?” and “What’s the point if no one even scores?” Because of the magic like this, the chaotic magic La Liga can produce. So give it a try, trade in to your Saturday afternoon bowl games and tune into a story unfolding abroad. Welcome to Spain.