Real Madrid v Juventus: David Beckham craved the spotlight at Real Madrid, but he cannot have wanted everyone else to blend so completely into the shadows. All eyes were on him at the weekend. The Englishman was lean, his play was sharp and he supplied the emotion. The camera loved him in his rage at not quite getting a free-kick right.

His side, unfortunately, were out of alignment by a far greater margin. Apart from gusto at the start and desperation at the end, they shuffled aimlessly to a 2-0 home defeat by Athletic Bilbao. Real will sigh that a bad night was bound to come their way.

Wanderley Luxemburgo, the club's third coach of the season, had won all seven of his matches since taking over and it is no fault of his that the Primera division title looks bound for Barcelona. Saturday's defeat would have been written off had it not highlighted everything that is still wrong with Real.

A refresher course in the flaws was unfortunate before their tie with Juventus in Madrid tonight. Real flinch at the sight of pragmatic Italians who can expose the self-satisfaction that characterises them at their worst.

Two years ago they romped through a jolly exchange of goals with Manchester United in the Champions League quarter-final. Given their scepticism about Premiership defences, Real were full of faith that they would score plentifully and, indeed, were never behind in that tie.

Doubts and inhibitions then possessed them as soon as the semi-final against Juventus began at the Bernabeu. An anxious Real had tightened up, hitting some passes with ponderous deliberation and losing the ball entirely when they wanted to be spontaneous. The reigning champions were knocked out of the competition.

The best of Real in this era was coming to a close just before Beckham arrived in Madrid. The remaining traces of pragmatism were being wiped away. Chelsea's offer for Claude Makelele may have been too good to resist, but the power brokers at the Bernabéu could never admit how much they needed the wise industriousness that he represents.

No effort has been made to replace him properly. Thomas Gravesen has lately been brought in from Everton, perhaps because he has the skinhead image of a tough nut who will get his own way in midfield.

In fact, he does not play like that at all and already seems grumpy about being confined to a holding role with Real that is unsuitable for him.

The club occasionally wants to be soberly adult, but the inclination towards responsibility does not run deep. They count on magic to ensure conquest and, in fairness, they have had the leading wizards of the age.

The trouble is that Zinédine Zidane, Roberto Carlos and Luis Figo cannot cast their spells for long enough as age saps them. Ronaldo is younger, but readily distracted; Luxemburgo will not have been entranced by either the lavish prenuptial shindig in Paris last Monday or the dilatory attitude to training.

José Camacho, the coach at the start of this campaign, subjected Ronaldo to the indignity of a fitness regime. There were immediate benefits, but the Brazilian, even then, was not speaking wholly in jest when he warned that he would go back to being tubby if the goals dried up.

Professional as Luxemburgo is, he cannot sideline a man who is always liable to be on target even when he is out of condition. Michael Owen was preferred on Saturday, but that may merely have been a means of chastising Ronaldo before restoring him to the starting line-up.

It is, though, not quite time to write off the supreme talents. They may be able to resurrect themselves to challenge in the Champions League.