Of the several images of a memorable El Clasico last Sunday few will endure with such iconographic intensity as that of Lionel Messi, holding up his number 10 Barca shirt to the Bernabeu stadium after scoring the defining goal against Real Madrid in the last minute of extra time.
Real Madrid fans who occupied the bulk of the stadium are an exacting crowd. They expect and demand the best from their star players as they do in the city’s nearby bullring of the country’s best matadors, not least in the encounter with its historic rival. They are excitable, polarised, visceral, tribally obsessive, and yet capable of showing respect when it is due, even to the enemy- like the bullfight crowd can rise to applaud a brave bull.
Not even Messi knows what really moved him to that act. A man not known for his articulation of feelings said afterwards he had done is a tribute to the few hundred Barca fans who had endured up in the Gods. But it was a cathartic moment with a whole range of feelings detonated consciously and unconsciously across time and space.
Conjured up in the moment were the heroic ghosts of Real Madrid legends past, who had worn the Number 10- Puskas, Gento, Juanito, Butrageño, Sanchez, Santillana, -and one in particular who had previously worn it for Barca- Diego Armando Maradona.
But it was a clear statement of the present, personified in the genius of Messi, the unrivalled main protagonist and man of the match, of one of the most exciting El Clasicos in many years. For it was Messi who had waved his magic wand amidst his lackluster team mates and cast a similar spell on his overwhelmed opponents.
Hi first goal had him swerving in and out of the Real Madrid defence, ball perfectly controlled, small frame almost brushing the ground, before finding the net with a perfectly timed and positioned strike with the inside of his left foot. Later, just when Real Madrid thought it was game over with a 2-2 draw, he clinched the fifth.
Just before the start of the game, Cristiano Ronaldo followed his team out, bouncing like a pogo stick, as if to remind the world of his ability like Muhamad Ali to fly like a butterfly and sting like a bee, such his self-belief and pronounced athleticism.
By contrast Messi, came out as he usually head bowed, shoulders hunched, only briefly looking up and surveying the crowd expressionless, giving nothing away behind a black eye and beard after a week of speculation he was reaching the end of the season battered worn out by Barca’s game against Juventus and unable to lift a Barca in urgent need of regeneration.
It was Cristiano who had got off to the most dynamic start, within two minutes of the opening whistle claiming theatrically a penalty (without success) after being tackled by Umiti in front of the Barca then following it up ten minutes later with a failed strike at goal which was comfortably received by Ter Stegen. It went from bad to worse after that, five attempts at goal-all easily stopped or way off target, and a largely anonymous second half.
The match ended with Cristiano grimacing and lifting his arms to the sky with a look that was balanced between frustration and disillusion, and Messi holding his shirt like a standard, unique in victory and the manner of achieving it.
His magic, and willpower prevailed in a declared war zone where he was the enemy’s main target. His runs interrupted six times by deliberate fouls, one a red card offence by Ramos. He emerged from a collision with Marcelo with a torrent of blood flowing from his cut lip. Despite it all he went on to score 100th goal for Barca-the first scored against Albacete in May2005, off a pass from Ronaldinho, when the Brazilian was at his prime- and was then the one that wore the Number 10 shirt, like that other Brazilian Pele.
