He is under fire, but Davinson is still Davinson. The numbers say one thing, the noise around him says another.
In the current Champions League campaign, Galatasaray’s Davinson Sánchez ranks among the central defenders with the highest number of clearances. That is not a subjective opinion, it is a hard metric: the Colombian is consistently one of the first names in Europe when it comes to taking danger out of the box. Yet in recent weeks he has become one of the main targets of criticism among Galatasaray supporters and commentators.
Why this clash between perception and reality?
The paradox of Davinson Sánchez
Sánchez is a very particular profile of centre-back. He is aggressive, proactive and never afraid to step toward the ball. This naturally produces a high volume of defensive actions: tackles, interceptions, blocks and, especially, clearances. In a competition as fast and chaotic as the Champions League, this kind of defender can be a blessing. Opponents press with intensity, attack with numbers and punish the smallest hesitation. A defender who reads danger early and simply clears the ball can be the difference between survival and collapse.
However, this same style makes him vulnerable to another kind of judgment. When Davinson makes a mistake, it is often spectacular. A missed tackle, a mistimed slide, a positional error that opens a highway to goal – these actions stay in the memory far more than the dozens of “invisible” interventions he performs correctly over 90 minutes. The result is a skewed image: people remember the error, forget the ten successful duels that came before it.
Why high clearances matter
In modern analysis, clearances are sometimes dismissed as “old‑school” defending. But in reality they still tell a lot about a team’s structure and the pressure its back line is under. A centre-back placed in a passive block, always defending his own area, will naturally register more clearances. For Galatasaray, who often oscillate between pressing high and dropping deep, Sánchez’s figures show two things at once:
1. The team allows more crosses and final-third entries than their coaching staff would like.
2. When the storm hits, the Colombian is one of the players who stand between danger and the goalkeeper.
Blaming only him for conceded goals, while ignoring the broken pressing chain ahead of him or the lack of support on the flanks, is a simplification that does not help. Responsibility in defending is collective.
Why he is being criticized anyway
Football culture rarely forgives big‑club defenders. One slip, one misjudged step, and a player can be marked for weeks. Sánchez’s recent dips in form have coincided with high‑stakes games and costly errors, which naturally amplified the anger. Add to this the expectations that come with his name and salary, and you get the perfect storm.
The narrative is seductive: “He is among the most cleared-ball defenders in the Champions League, but look at those two mistakes in the league.” What this misses is context. A central defender is not a machine. Confidence, match rhythm, partner chemistry and tactical stability all matter. A back line that changes every other week will always make an aggressive defender look more chaotic.
Okan Buruk’s role and the bigger Galatasaray picture
Head coach Okan Buruk knew what he was getting when he brought Sánchez in. He did not recruit a calm, low‑risk, ball‑playing metronome. He went for a dynamic stopper with European experience who could live with the pace of Champions League football. Buruk has built many of his defensive plans around the Colombian’s ability to cover space and attack the ball early.
At the same time, the squad’s internal competition and the pressure of European registration deadlines add tension. Questions about when Galatasaray must submit their Champions League list, which players can be added or sacrificed, and how to keep balance between domestic league and Europe, all create a background noise around every performance. Whenever the registration window approaches, every mistake by a foreign player is seen as a potential argument to drop him from the list. Sánchez feels this scrutiny more than most.
The transfer carousel around them
The Turkish top flight lives in a constant state of transfer drama, and that also shapes how players are judged. When people hear that Çağlar Söyüncü has received a new offer but national team coach Domenico Tedesco vetoed a move, they instantly compare. “Why not he instead of Davinson?” is an easy, but again superficial, question.
At the same time, other stories fill the headlines: salary disputes like Duran’s situation at Al‑Nassr and the uncertainty about what the Saudi club will decide; reports that Okan Buruk “discovered” a certain player while rivals such as Fenerbahçe are ready to close the deal; the agent of Yuri Alberto publicly clarifying Fenerbahçe rumors. In an environment where every day there is a supposed “new star coming,” the current squad is always under attack from the fantasy of the next big signing.
Semih Kılıçsoy’s situation, with discussions about terms and even emotional factors such as childhood club preferences, only reinforces how emotionally charged these debates are. When passion replaces analysis, objectivity around players like Sánchez quickly disappears.
The Istanbul rivals and the pressure cooker
Across the city, Beşiktaş are living through their own turbulence. A newly signed player is set to arrive in Istanbul, while another deal – the move for Asllani – collapsed at the last moment. Such aborted transfers fuel frustration among supporters and increase the desire to see instant results from every existing player. A bad half from a defender suddenly becomes “proof” that a new centre-back should have been signed instead.
Fenerbahçe are in a similar marathon. Linked repeatedly with attacking names, dealing with situations such as Ademola Lookman’s “second act” in transfer rumours, and constantly being placed near high‑profile Strikers like En‑Nesyri – who continues to perform in his usual, reliable fashion – they also project a certain narrative: perfection is only one transfer away. Against this backdrop, Galatasaray’s defensive errors are magnified. If your rival seems to hit on every signing, your own players’ mistakes look unbearable.
European benchmarks: Sané, Ederson and the Champions League lens
The Champions League is a distorted mirror. A winger like Leroy Sané can sit on top of the competition with mind‑blowing attacking numbers, and that instantly becomes the standard in people’s minds. Meanwhile, the goalkeeper Ederson calmly builds attacks from the back and makes crucial saves, to the point where players who face him might “kiss his hand” out of respect for his class. These extreme examples of excellence colour how local fans see their own team.
When you compare Sánchez to the very best defenders in Europe, his imperfections stand out. But that comparison is unfair if you ignore the reality: Galatasaray’s wage structure, the league’s financial constraints and the need to juggle multiple competitions. Within that framework, a centre-back who ranks among the top in Champions League clearances is not a problem to be discarded lightly; he is a key asset to be improved and protected.
Other moving pieces: Duran, Kante and long‑term planning
Beyond individual criticism, there are structural questions. The ongoing “salary headache” of players like Duran abroad, and the warnings from experienced names – for example, a former Adana player cautioning about the physical limits and usage of someone like N’Golo Kanté – remind clubs that building a squad is not just about names, but sustainability. Big salaries, injuries, and adaptation problems can turn any “guaranteed” star into a burden.
This again reframes the Sánchez debate. Here is a defender in his prime years, fully adapted to high‑tempo European football, not yet at the age where physical decline is a concern. To treat him as disposable in a market where stable, experienced centre‑backs are becoming more expensive each year is strategically short‑sighted.
Domestic stage: Antalyaspor–Trabzonspor and the tactical echo
If you watch league matches such as Antalyaspor–Trabzonspor, you see another layer of the story. Many Turkish Super Lig games are decided by set pieces, second balls, and how well central defenders manage aerial duels. In that type of environment, someone like Sánchez is gold. His reading of long balls, his ability to win headers and clear dangerous rebounds reduces the chaos that often defines these fixtures.
The problem is that neutralising chaos is rarely glamorous. Nobody cuts a highlight reel of “routine” clearances. But every coach in the league will tell you: without a defender who does that dirty work, no system survives.
Lookman, Vermeeren, Gomes: the shiny alternative vs the imperfect reality
Talk of fresh attacking talents – Ademola Lookman’s potential “second act” in the league, or the traps set for Galatasaray in the race for young names like Vermeeren and Gomes – fuels the idea that the future lies in spectacular attacking signings. This is a natural instinct for fans; goals are remembered more warmly than blocks.
Yet any modern sporting director knows the spine of the team is built from the back: goalkeeper, centre-backs, defensive midfielder. Once that axis is secure, you add the fireworks. Throwing away a proven Champions League-level centre-back for the illusion of a flawless replacement is not planning, it is gambling.
So what should be done with Davinson?
None of this means Sánchez is beyond criticism. His positioning can be refined, his risk management improved, his communication with full‑backs and the second centre-back sharpened. These are coaching tasks. The solution is not to deny his mistakes, but to balance them against his contribution.
For Galatasaray, the intelligent path is clear:
– Keep trusting him in big matches, especially in Europe, where his intensity and experience matter most.
– Stabilise his defensive partners so that communication and automatisms can develop.
– Adjust the team’s pressing structure to reduce the number of desperate last‑ditch situations he faces.
– Use data – including those Champions League clearance numbers – to explain internally why he remains a core piece rather than a scapegoat.
Because at the end of the day, Davinson is exactly what his numbers show: a high‑impact, high‑responsibility defender who lives on the edge. You do not ask such a player to become something he is not. You build a system that maximises his strengths and covers his weaknesses.
He is criticized, yes. But Davinson is still Davinson – and for a club with Galatasaray’s ambitions, that is far more of an asset than a problem.