So many of us have done it. You break up with someone on good terms, and you decide to have a meal in the aftermath of the event, because how bad could it be, right? And it’s brilliant. You laugh, you joke, you remember the good times, you remember everything about the relationship except the parts that made you want to set the bed on fire, with that charming, wonderful person sitting across from you, in it. Then you remember, and you wish you could be someplace, anyplace else.

And so it was today, in a demolition of a brave, plucky, misguided Rayo side that conceded early, then opened the floodgates. But the cameras before the match were all following Pep Guardiola, the now lame-duck coach of FC Barcelona, a man who spent the entire match looking as if he wanted to be anywhere except there. The team scored, he looked glum. They scored again, he looked even more glum, as did the newly announced coach, Tito Vilanova. The reasons for that, only they know. But for me, it was a fascinating match for so many reasons, that I will just throw up in bullet points, since my ability to string coherent sentences together has been disarmed by the weirdness.
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Today we face Rayo Vallecano. The last time we played was a 4-0 drubbing with Alexis, Messi, and a certain David Villa all finding the net. That was the last match in which Villa scored before he broke his leg. He is not in the starting lineup to find the net again on his return, unfortunately, but Ibrahim Afellay is on the bench! Yay!

Lineups:

Barça: Pinto, Montoya, Puyol, Mascherano, Adriano, Busquets, Keita, Thiago, Messi, Alexis Sánchez, Pedro

Rayo: Cobeño, Tito, Arribas, Pulido, Rober, Movilla, Trashorras, Michu, Lass, Tamudo, Diego Costa

And with that, Pep ruins my plans for Fantasy league domination. Valdes and Cuenca will take no part and Cesc and Tello start on the bench. At least Messi will play…

Once upon a time, years ago, I was a newbie bicycle racer who was just getting his legs underneath him. I finished a race in third place, and I was thrilled. My coach, however, said “That just means that you’re second among the losers.”

Charles Barkley never won a title in the National Basketball Association. Neither did Patrick Ewing. Fran Tarkenton, one of the greatest quarterbacks to ever play American football, went 0-for-3 in Super Bowls. And then there’s Joop Zoetemelk. Old Joe Sweetmilk finished second in the Tour de France six times. When he won one, in 1980, the mind boggles at how he must have felt, paralleling as he did, the careers of three of the greatest racing cyclists to ever turn pedals, Greg LeMond, Eddy Merckx and Bernard Hinault. Every time one would go away, another one would pop up.

“Son of a bitch,” Old Joe must have thought. “What the hell do I have to do to catch a break?”
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It may be an abbreviated version of it thanks to the Champions League semifinal, but it is still EL CLASICO WEEK, an insane combination of high-volume, low-thought, short-fused absurdity. Mourinho accusing Guardiola of having won 2 tainted Champions Leagues, never mind Porto or Inter’s own debt to refereeing decisions of course, Pepe sharpening his studs, Messi playing video games, Alexis maybe getting injured, and everyone and their mother cursing up a storm about tactical formations, the end of the world, and (in my special case) whether the bar will run out of beer before the game even starts.

This is the league. This is the whole season.

If we lose (or draw) here, it’s over. A win is the only thing of value in the quest for a 4th consecutive title. The team has to put the defeat to Chelsea behind them and focus squarely on the titanic match waiting on Saturday. It’s not about the pathetic whining of someone who was passed over for a job with FCB because he made the board uncomfortable with his totalitarian style; it’s not about whether the last time the two teams met a ref blew the whistle at the wrong time; it’s not about cycles or self-styled best teams in the world. It’s about Barça-Madrid. It is about El Clasico. It is about 98,000 screaming fans in the Camp Nou.

All of that, though, all the tension, all the drama, all the bickering and whining, can be summed up in this:

Manita, baby! For Eric, for Catalunya, for children everywhere!

Bring it.

VALENCIA (AFP) — Real Madrid kept its title hopes alive Saturday with a dramatic, 1-2 win over Valencia after a late-match penalty was converted by Cristiano Ronaldo, after the referee judged that Mesut Ozil was impeded in the penalty box.

The team had to stage a comeback, after an hand ball penalty gave its opponents an early lead. The victory keeps them within 4 points of league leaders FC Barcelona, with a pivotal match coming next weekend, at the Camp Nou.

Fade to a Barcelona football blog, in a galaxy far away …

COMMENTS
BILL CULE

Hmph! Just once I’d like to see them win without getting a late gift. Why don’t we get those calls? And Penaldo does it again. I hope we kill them at home this weekend.

Pretty interesting, isn’t it? I got to thinking about this as I was coming down from the giddy aftermath of a match that I just didn’t think that we were going to win, and being lambasted over my assertion that both penalties were soft.
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Just keep winning, just keep winning…

Starting XI: Valdes, Puyol, Mascherano, Adriano, Busquets, Xavi, Thiago, Fabregas, Pedro, Messi, Sanchez

Bench: Pinto, Alves, Pique, Montoya, Iniesta, Cuenca, Tello

Join me shortly after the Madrid match, 4:00 PM EST