Barcelona 1 - Mallorca 0: Barcelona Swagger Seven Points Clear with Dani Olmo’s Tidy Finish

 

Image: Screenshot from FC Barcelona YouTube 

Imagine if Barcelona’s La Masia ever produced a centre forward? Like a proper centre forward, not the La Liga mid-table or Belgian league type of forward? Like a true genius number 9 in the grain of genius midfielders like Xavi, Iniesta or Busquets. They would wipe the floor with everybody - again.

How Mallorca escaped that first half unscathed is the true head scratcher in a first half that saw Barcelona rough up their visitors and march them to a footballing clinic.

Barca swung Mallorca from side to side like a loose pendulum, pulled them wide like a slack elastic and stretched them like casual wear fabric.

This was Barcelona at its finest – sleek and slippery, taunting the bright yellow jerseys with neat keep-away in tight spaces - all in their own half!

This was just *chef’s kiss*. The boisterous Culers certainly made the air happy and perfect for such luxurious football, football that isn’t gold-edged, but gold itself, football that sparkles, not just one that has a sparkling facsimile.

Yet still, Mallorca went into the half unbreached.

To be fair, they defended for their lives, at least for a few minutes in the first half. In one sequence, they blocked three of four goal-bound shots from Barca players in the same move. They didn’t just pack the box with bodies, they stacked them on the goal-line like tyres at a dealer's shop. They showed some serious defensive merit.

I would imagine that many Culers were fearing another frustrating draw or Mallorca robbing it because we know the hideous siblings of the Mallorca, Getafe and Rayo Vallecano type love stealing the chain from Barcelona. Such results get them some serious street cred so they come to Barca like the gang from John Carpenter's Assault on Precinct 13 - apocalyptic and ready to smash and grub at whatever the cost.

Heading into the first half, this was a possibility. Erudite Barcelona football, magnificent and resplendent, football the right way, knotted with the Barcelona ‘DNA’, repaid with a last-minute steal - a Mallorca dagger in the 92^nd plus minute from a Barcelona corner - I have seen this script before, as have many Culers.

But that was not to be.

One-Minute Man

Early in the second half, 60 seconds after the restart, Dani Olmo, that luxury football player whose body plays the sport in short, five-game bursts, feinted and dummied his way into the Mallorca right side of the box. He needn’t beat his two markers. He never needs to. Instead, all he has to do is shift right, dummy left, then knock the ball in the space that opens up.

That was what he did here. An arrowed finish to the far post after shifting left, feinting right and firing a low ball past the outstretched arms of Leo Roman, whom I  must say was rather impressive, put Barca 1-0 up.

And oh, man Leo Roman.

In that first half, he seemed a man on a mission to prove that he had bigger balls than Barcelona’s front line that packs a sharp edge, a prick capable of deflating any well-formed defense.

Barcelona peppered 24 shots at Mallorca’s goal in that first half alone! Roman was up to task with those that were on target, throwing his limbs, head, torso, crotch, back, heart, red blood cells and even Golgi bodies onto everything Barca threw his way. One would imagine, if he had the kitchen sink with him, or perhaps even his worn-down cleats from earlier in his career, he would have thrown those too. Such was his high level of goalkeeping.

And that’s something I don’t get. A goalkeeper could come into a game against Barcelona playing like a man who would rather gate-keep than goal-keep, but then, in the 90 minutes against Barca, turn into prime Oliver Kahn. But once again, much of it could also be put down to Barcelona's scattered finishing.

Still, Roman looked like the man to stop Barcelona from pulling seven points ahead of Real Madrid, who visit football's greatest villain, Getafe, on Wednesday.

But Olmo’s strike, coupled with a brick-headed, ground-stomping, hands-on backline, ensured that would not happen.

Aura All Across the Pitch

Really, though, on a cool Tuesday night in Barcelona, this could easily have been a four or five-goal game for Barcelona, such was their dominance.

Fati, in his first start of the season, had a few chances in the first half. He looked lively and busy, albeit a little skittish - a rabbit caught in headlights but still having his wits about him to do something, be busy, be a nuisance.

Following his reaction after not coming on against CeltaVigo, he needed a big kahuna performance tonight to repay Flick's trust.

He tried. He reeally tried. You have to feel for him. He runs towards football, but football seems to be teasingly, tantalisingly, just out of reach for him at this moment. But that's unkind of me. He linked well with his teammates, had excellent movements and looked very sharp for a player who hasn't been part of Flick's plan for much of the season. Surely, Flick would be happy with this performance and give him more chances to catch up with football. I think he can.

Fort was also good, displaying more than enough quality to, at the very least, be in conversation to be Kounde’s deputy for when the fashion-loving, marathon-running Frenchman needs his rest. Fort played on the left tonight, though, but he still held his own in defense and attack. Sterner tests required, though, but he passed this one.

In midfield, Pedri remained volcanic, bending the game to his wafty, deceptively long legs’ will. Lamine Yamal, the boy dripping gold dust, was his usual menacing self, putting Mojica on the ropes in that first half and creating many chances for his teammates while also being a goal threat himself - kinda. He had a chance to put Barca 2-0 up midway through the second half after a truly outrageous through pass from Pedri that cut through Mallorca like they were made of paper mache. But the kid overthought the finish, and Romeo took another chance to shine with a neat save. That decision belies his inexperience, which is dwarfed by his extremely galactic talent, a talent that stands taller than the highest peaks on earth.

Gavi was sublime, filling the hole with competence and courage. In defense, Araujo had his hands in Larin’s pockets and never took them out for the entire match. Inigo swept what was left, while Eric Garcia, deputizing at right back, was sufficient.

This was a masterclass in positional rotations, close combination and quick passing; this was Barcelona at their evasive, naughty best, combining the directness of modern football with the rustic, laid-back, arrogant elegance of the Pep and Tito Villanova era. This team is an Infinity Gauntlet with all the infinity stones in place. You'd best come prepared with the Avengers to stand any chance of beating them!

That just a single goal won the game is much down to the frustrating finishing from Barca players than any defensive resilience from Mallorca, save for the opening minutes of the first half.

Seven points clear at the top for the next 24 hours. Let’s savour this win under the starry stars and chilly breeze.

Onto the next!

Visca Barca!