El Clasico win was a statement, Barcelona and Lionel Messi are far from done

Out with the fast and furious English game, out with tactical werewolf Antonio Conte. On Sunday, El Clasico, the all-consuming global supershow – yes, the beautiful game is increasingly ‘sportainment’ – between Real Madrid, the Galactic club and FC Barcelona, the grandest of Catalonian institutions, took center stage with a conveyor belt of superheroes as the cast.

After two minutes, Samuel Umtiti brought down Cristiano Ronaldo, who wailed and demanded a penalty. Referee Alejandro Hernandez ignored him. For a snap moment the cosmos and the referee contrived against the kid from Madeira. Indeed, for a long time, the universe has been Messia-anic, with the diminutive Argentinean moulding football, shaping and sculpting the beautiful game, ennobling all the talents of a contemporary superlative athlete, playing the game the modern way – with pace at precision, both breathtaking and breezy.

Many of Lionel Messi’s fine traits apply to Cristiano Ronaldo, but it was Casemiro, and not the Portuguese, who scored Real Madrid’s opening goal in the 27th minute – a mundane strike befitting the Brazilian, who has given Madrid’s midfield much needed balance. This was the goal Madrid craved, a prosaic statement in the squabble for La Liga. This was to be Luis Enrique’s great downfall and Messi’s defenestration, a pair on the wane in a disappointing season for the Catalan club.

But Messi responded in impeccable fashion, doing what he does best, bewildering opponents with his beguiling movement and gossamer touches. He scored a quintessential Leo goal, almost with a bandage between his teeth after the ever-cheeky Marcelo had applied a bullhammer elbow on Barcelona’s number ten, with blood gushing from Messi’s mouth.

The horrid image of a footballing Dracula reminded one of the lurid criticism at the address of Messi this season: the Argentinean was beginning to fade; no longer could he offer his perpetual movement and that cruel but beautiful swiftness that deceives defenders and other mortals. Indeed, the accusation was that as the magical Messi neared his landmark 30th birthday, he had just become a normal player, one who languished in the subterranean realm of other La Liga players, one who could no longer rightfully claim to be a sporting deity.

Messi, the magician

Messi’s goal was beautifully audacious and yet so ‘normal’, textbook in his repertoire – an exquisite equaliser in a delightful equation of body-swerves, step-overs and left and right touches. Ivan Rakitic had cushioned a pass inside to Messi, who accelerated and scored with great balance.

Ronaldo shrugged in disgust, his nemesis was again the bane of his existence, the vicious cause of his runner-up status in the global football hierarchy, so at odds with the Portuguese’s manic compulsion to be the best. At times, Ronaldo looked cartoonish with his full-circle, blondish hair locks and his other ‘M’as-tu-vu’ eccentricities, with a wildly ambitious scissor kick midway the second half. Ronaldo wasn’t clinical when offered chances.

But this game was not about CR7, who remained peripheral throughout the game. The whole razz-dazzle was enchanting, because it was so disorderly, so overly chaotic, a little fiefdom in the Spanish capital where imprecision and imbalance prevailed, a beautifully bad 90 minutes, a hysterical evening of exhilarating, breathless and pulsating football – or in millennial vernacular this El Classico was a great time to be alive.

The second stanza was a decadent 45 minutes of exploits and mis-ploits, a magical night of infectious football, with ‘San’ Keylor’s saves, Ramos’ rashness, Pique’s bullet header, Alcacer’s opportunity, Rakitic’s ‘golazo’ and James’ redemption.

And then came Messi, again - the magician, the game’s alchemist, the ultimate thaumaturge. With the last attack of the game, as all that was once sacred had been forsaken and as the reliable Marcelo, who had so battered and bruised Messi, together with an army of rotating hatchet men, had failed to track Sergi Roberto’s run, Messi delivered another superlative finish, his 500th Barcelona goal.

In a thoughtful and provoking celebration Messi took of his shirt and almost implored the home fans to read his name slowly. It was a statement: Messi and Barcelona are back in the title race, but on a remarkable night that was perhaps of secondary consideration. Messi and ‘Lucho’ haven’t been consigned to antiquity just yet, but rather, when the day of their fond farewell comes, this match is how they will want to be remembered.