Copa Del Rey: Flick Delivers His Best Win Yet In Real Madrid Execution

 Matches define seasons. Sometimes they define a lifetime. Oftentimes, though, it is just a football game.

For El Clasico with a lot riding on it though, the first two statements hold true, permanently etched into the fans of the respective teams.

It is not just that El Clásicos are the biggest games in the world, spectacles that grind many activities to a halt. It is that many of the best Classicos often happen on the backdrop of some off-field drama, a kind of side serving of bitter salad and some strong wine and confectionery.

In this Clasico, the side serving was about referees. More importantly, Real Madrid had threatened to throw their toys out of their pram because they didn't like the referee.

Much ado. Much nothing. They denied the 'rumours' that they wouldn't play. But that was such a diabolical play, a sleight of hand.

On the field, though, the first half went as one would expect. It was Barcelona that played the ball. Real Madrid were much better defensively here than they have been in the rest of the season, to be fair. They suddenly found that air to fill up their balls and breathe some life into their midfield. 

But this Barcelona team is one overflowing with precocious talent, boundless energy, and unencumbered self-belief. If Real Madrid are the villains, Barcelona are their executioners - always. Cold-blooded and efficient.

Lamine Yamal turned up, debuting a new hair color - blonde. He made himself felt in his backyard on that right side. After Mendy went down and Fran Garcia came on, Lamine picked up his controller once again and played the game to his tune.

Pedri had one of his worst matches, but it is to be expected. The kid has delivered awe-inspiring masterclasses after another. He deserved a game off. Too bad his day off came against Madrid, who indeed, set diabolical traps for him in midfield, excellent traps that bordered on evil genius, traps that saw Bellingham stretch those long limbs and put them to good use, robbing Pedri of the ball one too many times. Uncharacteristic of Pedri to lose that many balls, but oh well, even the greats fart sometimes.

But, for the one moment that Barcelona needed him, Pedri delivered gloriously, curling a shot into the top left after a neat cutback from Laine Yamal.

Before the game, both sets of fans arrived in Sevilla in two separate batches. Real fans were on one side while Barcelona fans were across the pond, the two factions of the Infinity War. Culers had brought with them that boisterous energy that has marked their insolent confidence levels this season. Real Madrid fans, in contrast, were quieter, filing away from the railway hushed and trying not to draw attention to themselves, as if heading into a wake, rather than a cup final against their biggest rivals. It was a picture reminiscent of the 'small brain, much noise, big brain, no talk' meme.

Or perhaps, they knew they had their backs on the ropes. Maybe it hadn't been silent confidence but a weariness, a solemn fear of a lashing, a silent prayer for all of this to just be over so they can get to church on Sunday.

At the end, Madrid came into this match with the fight of a wounded animal and led 2-1 until the 84th minute. In my language, there is a saying 'Walitufeel'. This translates to 'They felt us.' It means turning up and putting up a fight and leaving a mark on your opponents. Real Madrid certainly did, both literally, football-wise, and of course, physically, because, of course, they had to kick and bite - after all, it's what spoiled children do.

At the end of the day though, Flick and his coaching staff have pulled these players from prisons without cages and unleashed them into the open fields. 

This win perfectly captured Barcelona's 2024/25 season - Excellent, vulnerable, frustrating, dreamy, naive, arrogant, but when it matters most, diabolically exciting and unbeatably resilient.

Visca Barcelona!