Of all the chants resounding round the Barca section of Wembley last night, few proved as popular as ‘ Porque,Porque, Porque’.
Why does Barca win was the question’s football’s agent provocateur Jose Mourinho asked, insinuating-as only he would-that the answer may lie in diving and deranged referees.
Well Mourinho eat your hat. The answer, as Alex Ferguson recognised, was blowing in the sweet air of a team’s collective genius which made an opponent of the quality of Manchester United struggle to keep in the game for much of the match.
It was only fitting that in a week that saw at least some of the alleged dirty washing of football’s governing body hung out to dry, a global audience of fans was treated by the world’s two great clubs to a display of sportsmanship in which one side excelled in its skill on and off the ball.
I can’t remember a match in which my natural instinct as a fan to jump and chant struggled with the wish to follow every detail of Barca’s performance, such was the mesmerising impact of the players’ movement around the pitch once Pep Guardiola’s team got into its stride.
That said, my nerves were on edge for most of the first half, as were those of my cule friends in Wembley’s Block H, with Man U dominating the first ten minutes or so, and then equalising thanks to Rooney. I was haunted by the prediction that some Man U fans had come to the stadium with: a 3-1 victory to them.
That they were proved wrong was in part down to the undisputed brilliance of an on form Lionel Messi and the constant threat he posed whether as an instigator, decoy, or executioner. Personally I cannot remember a match in which Messi celebrated a goal with such –almost Maradona-like- frenzied abandon. And one can’t blame him for that. This was the site of Rattin’s humiliating red card before Argentina’s defeat by England in the 1966 World Cup. And this was the site where Barca won its first ever European Cup in 1992.
But in the new Wembley, Messi not only conquered history but made a bold statement about a style of football that has already marked an era in the 21st century-to that extent he personified a collective achievement.
For last night’s victory was arguably the culmination of a process that was set in motion by Cruyff, and finessed by Guardiola during one of the most bruising seasons in Spanish club football. One dream team has metamorphosed into another.
My enduring moments at Wembley last night: the way the chants of the cules echoed globally; Abidal’s heroism; Pujol’s nobility (handing Abidal the captain’s badge); Pedro’s goal; Messi’s goal; Villa’s goal; Ferguson arguing with Rooney about tactics; Pep Guardiola being thrown in the air by his team; the circle of friendship that was created in the middle of the team before and after the match; Danny Alves leading fellow Brazilians on a merry celebratory dance; sharing the moment with fans who had travelled by coach all the way from Andalucia; the cules celebrating with tears and laughter; hearing Ferguson describe Barca as the best team he had ever played again. Amen to that.
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