Prior to this weekend, the words had been lightly etched on the wall for everyone to contemplate.
Barcelona, one of the best teams ever?
By 22:00 GMT, UEFA’s engraver was busy confirming what Pep and the boys had just illustrated on the pitch. Yes, Barcelona – one of the best teams ever. No question mark, non-eraserable and written in bold. And to put truth into words, London’s Museum of Natural History played host to the celebratory party.
But despite the emphatic result, the start was as nervous as any ol’ cup final. For all of their talent and telepathic, intuitive footballing prowess, Barcelona still know how to suffer. And suffer they did, as the ball seemed to wobble and players appeared fresh off an all-nighter bender.
2nd rate? No, hardly. The first 10 minutes of the 2009 final were more labored and panic-stricken, but if it wasn’t for Victor Valdes, it might have been more difficult proposition. His self-propelled launches in the 7th and 9th minute typifies the kind of influence required to give the forward-minded Messi, Iniesta and others a chance. Total passive concentration for minutes on end and impeccable intervention in a blink of an eye. The modern keeper-sweeper defined and in contrast to the dissenters, a big game player.
Puyol’s absence mounted fears and worries amongst the traditional pessimists. Barcelona’s selection of single digit losses this season never featured Puyol from the start. Coupled with the arrhythmic opening and Pedro’s initial miss, it appeared to be one of those matches. But even the most stubborn of pessimists in our troupe (cough Ade cough) weren’t feeling too perturbed by the 20th minute. Traditional horizontal passes, decoy runs, triangles, Messi shuffles and the occasional Villa shot were succinct appetizers to the tour-de-flavor main course meal served in the second half.
Masterclass. A fitting description as short as Pep’s hair – whatever’s left of it. No more and no less. Once Barcelona had stopped limiting themselves, it was easy to tag the likes of Iniesta, Xavi and Messi for those ever dangerous movements between United’s midfield and defensive lines. In contrast with the suffocating and tactically shackled semi-final matches, Villa and Pedro were given a refreshing reprieve. Never static, Pedro moved from wing to wing and influenced the play enough to extract a step ahead of Vidic for the opening goal. Villa was much the same. Functionally relevant, harrying down the flanks to cover, keeping the defensive line abreast and offering a nightcap that was dazzling enough to make Messi fall to his knees in joy.
But it wasn’t just the headlining sparkle-eyed stars basking in the limelight. Ultimate case in point: Interim captain, Eric Abidal. From tumor-removing operation patient to Champions League trophy weightlifter in 72 days. A month ago, everyone was pleased to simply see the in-form defender back in training. Although, his tumor conquering episode has rightfully resulted in many a congratulations, let’s not forget that his season-wide performance as an un-flinching left and center back should be duly noted and commended.
A similar notion of righteousness for Mascherano. The wrong transfer, the wrong midfielder, the wrong midfielder-turn defender, the wrong height, the wrong technique and it all turned out to be right as rain. Meanwhile, Pique managed to maintain 90 minutes worth of concentration without depending on Headmaster Puyol’s intermittent verbal volleys.
The sum of the parts was a proper performance. A head scratching “how does one match this?” caliber display delivered without any ifs, buts or grating dramatic anecdotes. A million articles and five-centers hypothesizing ways to beat Barcelona saturated football media outlets before the Wembley final. Now Pep and company are tasked with making sure it stays that way for another season.
But not before celebrating.
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