He had gone from Celta Vigo to Hoffenheim, to Frankfurt and Hannover, from Stoke City to a club now in the Spanish third division. He stopped at middling Newcastle, then Alavés. He spent last season at Espanyol, unsuccessfully fighting relegation. Joselu, at this time last year, was a 33-year-old journeyman on a path toward anonymity — until Real Madrid called.
Now, he’s a Champions League hero.
For most of his winding career, you’d probably never heard of him. But on Wednesday night, under the Santiago Bernabeu’s beaming lights, he stunned Bayern Munich with two last-gasp goals in a Champions League semifinal. He rescued the kings of Europe from a 1-0 deficit. He sent Real Madrid, a club steeped in mystique and talent, to yet another Champions League final.
And when he heard the final whistle, he fell to the ground, his body outstretched, his face in his hands and in the grass. Teammates piled on top of him.
Moments later, he looked around the palatial stadium, almost in disbelief — just like anybody who’s followed his journey.
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