12.14.2008

The Rain and the Argentine

El Clasico, it's fair to say, did not disappoint. Real Madrid are a wounded animal with a new shot of brains and they were vicious, cruel and muy peligroso. They played like savages, brutally hacking at Lionel Messi's feet and legs with no regard for fair play. Sergio Ramos, always and forever a two-bit thug masquerading as a pretty-boy, wasted no time putting the sadistic strategy on display, taking a cheap shot no more than two minutes into the game. Other than a bit of beautiful retribution from Rafa Marquez (the go-to man when it comes to demonstrating that just because we play beautiful football, cabron, doesn't mean we don't hit back!) the blaugrana didn't let it get to them.

The rain set the pace for most of the match and came down ever harder. There is something about an achievement happening in the rain that, for no obvious reason outside the aesthetic, makes it so much more glorious. You don't have to think back far (I'd say the 2006 Champions League final) to see how much added character and attractiveness there is to a win in the rain. It is the great equalizer. Yes, everyone is freezing and trudging around in wet socks, kicking a slippery ball and sprinting delicately across a soggy pitch. Both clubs, both benches, both sets of fans are committed to the same misery and the one that wins is the one that has enough huevos to keep fighting, at one point fighting against the rain as though they were up against two opponents and then mercilessly teaming up with the rain against their foes when the time is right. Sorry, Royston Drenthe, but it got to you and it didn't get to Victor Valdes and that may be the only reason you lost. But what a glorious reason.

Iker Casillas is an indecent rogue but in spite of this, it is very hard to hate him, the charming bastard, and I couldn't do it even after he shoved away the penalty from Samuel Eto'o with the type of skill and precision that is at once terrifying and deeply intriguing. Hats off, Iker. I'm not too proud for that. I might have been, had it not been for the eventual showdown of wills that was won by Carlos Puyol (who, in a just world, would be credited with at least 80% of the first goal.) Lionel Messi, of course, finished everything off in a rare display of Total Justice. Hack at his feet and knees all match, send him crashing onto the cold, wet earth time and again. And the most brutal collision of the entire match was Fabio Cannavaro smashing into the post in a vain attempt to stop Leo's pitch-perfect chip in extra time. Yes, sometimes life can be so fair.

12.09.2008

On El Clasico, Mixed Feelings and An Era of Cautious Optimism

Barcelona are three-minutes from kick-off in their last group game in the Champions League this year, a technically meaningless match against Nery Castillo's employers. All you need to know about them is that they've never had any use for Nery Castillo, the bastards, and they think the win Barcelona grabbed from them in Ukraine was unfair. It's nonsense, of course, but they seem serious about it. 

Of course, the blaugrana have been the best club in Europe this year and that's something that only the most starry-eyed optimists could have imagined before it all started. Even those comparatively dark days of losing at Numancia and drawing Racing in the first two weeks of the season are distant. I, like Pep, have never come to expect victory, though, because that's what assholes like Real Madrid do and it is beneath everybody. Juande Ramos is going to lead his boys into action at the Nou Camp with the clinical ferocity that makes him such a perfect match for, and he'll have a point to make in this Saturday's dreaded/anxiously awaited El Clasico. They may be racked with injuries, and languishing in fifth place in La Liga and unable to make a dent in Juventus either home or away but they're still Real Madrid, and it's still El Clasico. Get your game faces on, my friends, because there is sure to be a good deal of bloodshed.

One thing that's been a little bit unsettling for me is just how thoroughly Barca have been demolishing their opposition. 4-0, 5-0, 6-1. 0-3 at Sevilla and 4-0 at home against Valencia. Those aren't bad teams, man, and there's nothing to do but step aside and admire the refusal for Pep and the boys to give them any extra leverage simply because they're Top 4. The thing is, well, it's entertaining soccer I suppose, but I've long thought that people who don't like soccer because there aren't enough goals are the same sorts of people who must think the best part of sex is the orgasm, and that's a dreary way to go about life and a sure sign that someone has values that I will never relate to. So, I love the technical brilliance of a well-fought 1-0 draw where the goal comes from a late Xavi freekick (speaking of Xavi, as I am, I said some nasty things about him in this space last year and, while pride dictates I not take any of them back, I will say he's done what I always doubted he would and I would be sadly remiss not to salute him for it) or even a match where the team is down 2-0 at the half and comes back for a 2-2 draw. There's something greatly satisfying about precision and winning a fair fight. So, I relish the uncharacteristic lack of tension from watching matches this season, but at the same time hold out hope that I'll spend some amount of El Clasico thinking Barca are doomed to lose.

Well, it seems a little too good to be true that Barcelona are putting together this magic on the heels of Barack Obama's election. Yes, sure, the governor or Illinois is being strung up on corruption charges and the Rapids and Rockies continue to prove that the worst teams to support are the ones you're tied to geographically because they can count on you and so they don't have anything to prove. Sure, nothing is overwhelmingly rosy and there's, as ever, plenty of evil and corruption to contend with (Madrid, Juve and Chelsea are all through to the knockout stages, though even here we have the constantly thrilling reminder that AC Milan didn't even qualify this year) but it just seems like the good guys are winning more often than usual. I highly suggest tempering your enthusiasm, though, friends, because when things get ugly, they do it quick and without any kind of warning, and we must be on our toes. Remember El Pipila? Well, don't forget him. He's got a lot to say about times like these.