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.