Barcelona 5-0 Real Madrid
The footballing world gasped in amazement last night as Barcelona confirmed the self-belief that they are the best team in the world by a very large margin. Up until kick-off in Camp Nou, Real Madrid could almost have pretended that they were, after their unbeaten start to the season, on the same planet as their most hated rivals. No more. Real can be the Galacticos if they like, but here on earth at present Barcelona ply the most pure brand of the beautiful game.
How frustrating it must be for Real Madrid. How helpless they must feel. As much as Jose Mourinho tethers and tenders to his fallow hotbed of talent, he can only gaze enviously at Pep Guardiola and his lush garden of red and blue, the seeds of which were sown long before he arrived. Having proved his worth on many a foreign field, Mourinho’s ultimate challenge is now the very club with which his skills were first honed.
Never can I recall footballers of such quality being humiliated in such a manner. The best goalkeeper in the world was helpless as five goals were slotted past him. What a different figure Iker Casillas cut from the last time the eyes of the world were on him, as he bawled his way to victory in the World Cup final. This time the tears were shed for a very different reason. At least Casillas could, for most of the match at least, escape the spotlight. For the ten outfield players there was no place to hide as Barca’s peerless tici taca left Real Madrid chasing shadows, so precise were the one-touch triangles played in and around the white shirts of Madrid.
Comparisons to bulls and matadors are inevitable but very much deserved. While Madrid chased and charged, fuming with heads down, their ever-growing red mist was fuelled by the inability to ignore the thousands of fans goading them all around. They eventually snapped out, leading to several 20-man handbag sessions. Cristiano Ronaldo, eclipsed by Lionel Messi and chums on his big day, was booked for pushing Pep Guardiola; Messi was booked for apparently simulating contact between his face and the elbow of Ricardo Carvalho. The passion and petulance was there for both sides as expected, but only one team was allowed to play. It was Barca’s ball, Barca’s playground and Real Madrid was the tearful slow kid in the middle, sniffling red-faced as the ball was forever kept just out of his reach.
Barca can buy as many Ozils and Khediras as they like but they will never have a midfield partnership like Xavi and Andres Iniesta. With all eyes on the strikers in a furious opening exchange it was the two little Catalans who kept their heads; Iniesta bisecting Real’s defence with a typically pinpoint pass, and Xavi calmly following the path of the deflected ball over his shoulder before nonchalantly lifting it past Casillas on nine minutes, to open a wound that was to be relentlessly lanced until Real Madrid eventually collapsed.
Xavi then resumed his more natural role of creator, finding David Villa with an angled, lofted pass to the inside-left channel. Spain’s leading scorer ghosted outside Sergio Ramos before finding Pedro, who gratefully slotted his cut-back in for 2-0 inside 20 minutes. Spain’s showcase fixture had been a very Spanish affair so far. With their work done Barca now dropped the intensity but cranked up the swagger, giving an exhibition of passing and movement and never really allowing Real Madrid a chance to impose themselves on the game for the rest of the first half.
Jose Mourinho acknowledged Barca’s dominance in possession by replacing Mesut Ozil with Lassana Diarra at half-time; before they could even think of attacking his team would first have to win the ball. Barcelona were unmoved and unaffected: Leo Messi slipped in David Villa who showed his class by beating the offside trap and then Casillas with equal precision on 55 minutes. With Madrid on the ropes Messi slotted another perfect pass through a crowd of white shirts to find Villa again, with the outcome inevitable: a devastating quick-fire double in just three minutes to finish Real off.
What could Mourinho do? Rarely had the Portuguese ever found himself in such a position of futility. For once it was he who had to sit and endure torment from a younger, more stylish manager in the opposing dugout. Now Pep Guardiola was the Special One. On the pitch Madrid were beginning to display the anger that boiled inside Mourinho as they realised the game was up, and that it was now about damage limitation. Eight Madrid players were booked and Ramos was sent off on 90 minutes. By that time Jeffren had added yet more insult to injury by converting a low cross from fellow substitute Bojan for 5-0.
So while Guardiola won his sixth consecutive Clasico, a humbled Mourinho, who always knew that his tenure at Real Madrid would only be judged on his ability to beat Barcelona, now realises the enormity of that task. If this match was important for Madrid’s chances of wrestling the La Liga crown from Barcelona, the return fixture at the Bernabeu on the 16th of April next year is monumental.
Both teams had scored an impressive 27 goals in their last seven league games before last night, but Barcelona proved able to continue this rate against Madrid to show them that however good they become under Mourinho, their Catalan enemies will always be one, or even five, steps ahead. Special might not cut it this time around.
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