El Clasico - Barcelona 4 - Real Madrid 3: They Can Dread it, Run From it, But Blancos Cannot Escape Flickball

 

Image - FC Barcelona

You know, the way Flick’s Barcelona plays is perfectly made for Mbappe - a high line, which means a lot of space in behind and defenders who are exceptionally good but have the top speed of an injured tortoise, so Mbappe can trust himself to outrun them, and a goalkeeper who couldn’t get any worse when coming off his line if he tried.

So, him grabbing a hat-trick in this turbulent ElClasico clash is perhaps not surprising. (A bit of a side tangent here, but Mbappe is building quite a reputation for scoring hat-tricks and still ending up on the losing side, isn’t he?)

What’s surprising, though, is that Barcelona did not score more in this match.

Real Madrid began the game well, racing to a 2-0 lead following a defensive disaster from Barcelona. The thing is, though, it's not the high line that is killing Barcelona; it's that the Barca defenders, 8 times out of 10, won’t recover in time to put out the flames of an attack, especially when coming up against a speed demon and true superstar finisher like Kylian Mbappe.

Yet, for all of Mbappe’s exhilarating exploits in front of Barca’s goal, this match could easily have ended 5/6-3 to Barca.

I am growing old and experiencing physical decay, so my body truly can’t handle the front-to-back, back-to-front, foot-to-the-pedal, heavy-metal adjacent football that Flick is hell bent on playing with religious devotion.

But you know who else can’t handle this kind of football? Carlo Ancelotti’s Real Madrid. I mean, these lot have conceded 16 goals (16!) in just four games against the Blaugrana. At this point they should just go home because they don’t have what it takes to get past Flick's tricky Blaugrana.

This wasn’t quite a run downhill for Barca as the first league ElClasico earlier in the season had been, but it needn’t be. Sometimes, it’s not possible to always be razor sharp. You need to clench your fists and go blow for blow with the opponent and that’s what Barca did.

After losing three in a row against Barcelona, Real Madrid were fired up and ready to serve, turning up as a much tougher prospect than even in the Copa Del Rey final.

Real 2 Barca 0

A simple ball over the top surprisingly caused the mercurial Cubarsi some issues, opening the highway for Mbappe to race into the box. Szczesny raced out of his box to try and get to the ball before Mbappe, but as you know by now if you are a Culer, the perpetually underwhelmed ex-retiree doesn’t know how to time coming off his line. He bumped into Mbappe and Mbappe scored the consequent penalty, which Szczesny almost got a fingertip to. Almost. A hairs breath too short, the Polish keeper.

Before long, it was 2-0, Mbappe racing to meet Vinicius Junior’s outfoot pass from the left and slotting it past Szczesny. He did his calma celebration, shushing the lively Montjuic crowd booing his ears out.

Who was gonna tell him?

“It doesn’t matter whether they are 1-0 or 2-0 up. We always know we are going to win” Lamine Yamal, 2025, in the build-up to the Copa Del Revi win against Real Madrid. Hold on as I print out this quote and hang it in the fucking louvre!

That quote kept playing in my mind after Mbappe made it 2-0, which is why I wasn’t worried.

And before long, at the 18^th minute, just five minutes after Mbappe had made it 2-0, Eric Garcia pulled one back for Barcelona after Torres had flicked (see, we can’t escape Flick!) the ball into his path for 2-1.

La Remontada

Then, came the boy with magic in his boots, Barcelona’s answer to 'what happened to La Masia?' queries, the cherry on top of Flick’s sugary cake, the floating butterfly who stings like a bee. After a neat team move, Lamine Yamal curled a sweet, sweet strike past Courtois following Ferran Torres lay-off.

Lamine Yamal is inevitable, especially against Real Madrid, and he made sure to reply to Mbappe’s calma with his own calma celebration, his urging the Barcelona faithful to "relax! We got it!”

Call it aura or aura farming, but the inescapable reality is that this kid has the charisma and presence of a bona fide superstar. He belongs here and the owns this place.

Comeback is on! 

Another tangent, but it has been an interesting few weeks in Madrid. First, their supposed remontada against Arsenal failed to materialize, only for Barcelona to pull off the actual remontada a few days later against Celta Vigo. Then, Barcelona pulled a remontada against these supposed remontada kings in the Copa Del Rey and now this. How do you suffer two back-to-back remontada against your biggest opp? Have you no self-respect? Have you no shame?

What a wicked sense of humor life has, eh?

They can dread it, run from it, hide from it, but Real Madrid cannot escape the choking presence of Flick’s machine, the swashbuckling pirates to their defenseless sailing warship.

After a lively start from Madrid, Barcelona forced them deep into their half with wave after wave of swarming attack, like hornets descending upon a pesky intruder that had stirred up their nest.

Raphinha should have had his moment on Tuesday. His sweet strike past the wall that was Yan Sommer would have made him a folkier hero in Sunny Catalonia. Folkier hero because he already is a folk hero. But it’s okay. His third goal here would do!

Barcelona robbed Real Madrid in midfield before Pedri fed a lovely pass to Raphinha to slot across Courtois for 3-2, a finish that Courtois would be feeling déjà vu about.

Comeback complete!

Then, for his second of the night and Barca’s fourth, Raphinha robbed Lucas Vasquez after the Real right back's controller momentarily disconnected and, after a neat 1-2 with Ferran Torres, he fired a sweet strike past Courtois for 4-2.

Comeback sealed and delivered!

Say what you want about Real Madrid mentality, but I was certain that it was more likely for Barcelona to score a fifth than Real Madrid to grab a third of their own. Yeah, I was cocky like that. The only way for Real Madrid to come back would only if Barcelona let them.

And oh boy, did they try.

'What is Defense?' Asks Flick

This Flick high line makes for some exhilarating football, some edge of the seat stuff, some souls-awakening beauty and awe-inspiring intricacies not seen around the Barcelona streets since Pep’s days. But man, does it also induce a heart attack!

Barca had the ball in the back of the net for the fifth, Raphinha racing into the area after a lay-off from Ferran and squaring it to Lamine to slot home a simple finish. Unfortunately, though, Raphinha had been marginally offside.

Remember that point I made about the only way for Real to get back into the game would be if Barcelona allowed them? Well you will never guess what happened.

Inigo Martinez, who has actually been very good for Barcelona this season, unfortunately had one of his least good moments when he cleared the ball straight into a Luka Modric’s foot, who played in Vinicus Junior who squared it to Mbappe for 4-3.

And for the rest of the match, that Flick high line tried to kill me several times. First, Victor Munoz almost became the hero in Madrid when he latched onto a Brahim Diaz through pass but fired wide. He had a lot of space to run into, Munoz, because apparently, to Barcelona, what happened in Milan is a concept not reality. What is defending if not cowardice persevering – Flick probably and Flick is no coward so a high line it remains.

Then, another chance for Mbappe, who raced onto a ball over the top and had swaths of green space behind Barca’s high line. Luckily for Barca, Szczesny was on his top game this time, parrying the ball away to preserve Barca’s lead.

Barcelona under Flick plays football as if the opponent's attackers are cones, not reality, as if they are the only team on the pitch. It is the mind of a predator upon seeing a prey – nothing else matters. And you know what? For all of the near-heart attack it gives us each game, it also repays with scintillating brilliance, cascading beauty that leaps from the screen and straight into our eyeballs, right into our beating hearts, becoming one with the blood inside us.

It is a dopamine rush like nothing else, a shot of something pure and first grade.

I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t have it any other way except this way, the Barca way – beautiful, brilliant, impudent, inspiring, addictive, euphoria-inducing, a true high line, if you catch my drift.

With Espanyol coming up next, Barcelona now has a chance to wrap up the title at the home of their close-town rivals in what would certainly be a normal match with no problems at all.

Onto the next!

Visca Barca!