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Zlatan Ibrahimovic

Sid Lowe on the Meaning of Barca’s Loss

by Bob Lalasz on February 16, 2010

in Barca, Football

I could just rerun my last post — but hell, he gets paid to say the same thing, so maybe you’ll believe it this time. From today’s Guardian:

Trouble is, while it would be unfair to attack Barcelona – a team so consistently excellent, so adept at making the extraordinary routine, that they hardly warrant writing about until they eventually lose – that’s not the whole story. Because if everyone knew this day would come and some even knew when, the way it came is troubling. Who, what and where is one thing, how and why another. Because last night Barcelona did not just lose; last night Barcelona played badly.

Because Atlético were startlingly comfortable. Because when Barcelona had to react in the second half, they couldn’t – creating just two chances. “We weren’t right with the ball,” Guardiola admitted. “Normally we make a lot of chances; tonight we didn’t.” Because, unusually, Xavi lost possession 15 times. Because seven muscle injuries in nine days is worrying and the threat of more lingers, Iniesta admitting: “I’m not doctor but it can’t be chance.” Because Guardiola’s concern over tiredness was palpable. Because much as Ibrahimovic, in Juanma Lillo’s words, “performs footballing mouth-to-mouth, resuscitating dying moves”, his inclination to hold, wait and turn back nullifies the through ball. Because Barcelona have a small squad and, conceived and constructed upside down, defending from the front and playing from the back, they really miss key players – without Piqué, Abidal and, particularly Alves, they don’t construct or surprise as well. And because, as one journalist, smelling blood, was quick to inform Guardiola, Madrid’s destiny is now in their own hands.

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Second halves are rarely at the midpoint of anything. You know they are upon you not by a calendar, but by a set of unseen cracks in your very fiber and standing that seem to widen all at once — for a man, for instance, it’s the pretty girl who now looks right through you, the sudden back spasm, the name of that childhood sports hero suddenly no longer on the tip of your tongue. You can survive a second half for a while, even thrive, but there is nothing to prepare you for that first gust of chilly wind, the blow to your confidence delivered by the quick loss of things you took for granted.

For Barça 2009-10, we can now declare the real first half of the season over — the unbeaten one, the largely injury-free one, the one in which we were serene about the smallish gap between ourselves and our perpetually fretful archrival. (You would thought that 5 points was 50, so unconcerned did everyone — except Madrid — seem about the rest of the season.) Players are now going down like Columbus has brought smallpox upon them: Now Xavi is out for 15 days and Keita a month — throw those logs on the pyre along with the bodies of Yaya Toure, Dani Alves, Abidal and Chygrynskyi. The lead is down to 2 points after yesterday’s universally foreseen loss to Atletico — a 6-6-9 team that shockingly dominated Barca in midfield and made Carles Puyol look about 75 years old on their counterattacks. Phil Ball says neither Barca nor Real would be “suicidal” if they lost La Liga, so long as they won the Champions League…but if you thought Messi cried after failing to defend the Copa del Rey, they’re going to have to build an ark to navigate the sea of tears if Real’s smash-and-grab spree is vindicated in the end over the patient tutelage of La Masia. Death Star is in our rear-view mirror again, and gaining fast.

So one defeat can turn a major chord minor; yes, it can. Which is not to say that Barça shouldn’t have won the match — they should have, handily. The one difference between last year and this year hides in plain sight: goal scoring. 68 after 22 matches last year; 53 after 22 this year. Goals came in swarms last year, in Everlasting Gobstoppers. The chances are there again this year, not quite as many…but the strikers are now missing; Pedro blew about four yesterday, and Ibra fumbled his customary two or three. As the old saying goes, strikers are paid to miss; but not this much, and not over the course of a season. We’ll have to wait for a new second half for that to change.

(Image credit: piterart/Flickr through a Creative Commons license.)

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Barcelona 1-0 Espanyol: No Ambien Required

by Bob Lalasz on December 13, 2009

in Barca, Football

Votes for Catalan independence. The Club World Cup. The Champions League. A Spanish conspiracy to keep Barca exhausted by forcing their flight to Abu Dhabi to stop in Turkey, meaning they’ll be on the plane for 11 straight hours. Amidst all that melodrama, who has time for a little derby (which, Joan LaPorta said earlier this week, isn’t even a derby anymore, since Espanyol moved outside the Barcelona city limits)?

Pep says the team is shattered, and no wonder — 7 games in 21 days. Yesterday was the worst game they’ve played in over a year, as flabby as your average NFL game. Espanyol didn’t get a sniff, but then again, they didn’t have any real strikers, and neither should have Ibra — maybe the best thing you can say about the dive by “Little Bit of a Naughty Boy” Xavi to win the PK (see video) is that he was too tired to keep running. Yes, winning in Abu Dhabi would complete the best year in club soccer history. But at the expense of what’s ahead?

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As a Barca fan, of course I adore this animated pass-shot-goal graphic feature from ESPN Soccernet of Xavi's equalizing goal last night, a mesmerizing hymn to the innate superiority of the Barca way (and also something of an analog to the bullfight) — the chronic, monk-patient triangles; the fluttery, midfield prestidigitation, with increasingly close-in passes of the cape; the Catalan dedication to ornate figuration at the expense of almost everything else; and finally the estocada, the sudden sword-thrust through the aorta, in this case from Messi to Xavi via a gorgeous one-time by Abidal, whom I underestimated as a crosser. (What would a Drogba goal look like in this feature? Would the screen shatter?)

Too bad this was really the only good combo in an otherwise pretty mediocre and occasionally utterly dangerous display by our heroes, who probably should have lost, given a couple of blown bunnies by Kiev and an outrageous handball by Pique in the first half that stopped a breakaway and definitely should have been a red and was one of many big wanking red flags.

Group F was, if not the group of death Sir Alex thought, certainly the Group of Numb Extremities and Slightly Blue Lips. (Let's hope the first knockout isn't CSKA Moscow, given the way the boys play in cold weather.) The good news: Barca is through and top-seeded, despite Pique and Ibrahimovic being awful, Iniesta and Puyol and Keita being spectral, and Messi being, once again despite the goals and assist, pretty subpar. (He's in doubt for this weekend.) The bad news? All the above minus the first clause, plus Victor Valdez up to his old shaky tricks again. Just another night at the opera, as this year is turning out. Ibrahimovic did almost break the goalie's jaw on a free kick, which was fun.

Chelsea and Barca have been made 7/2 co-favorites to win the Champions League. You'll have to get behind Tony Cascarino if you want a piece of that action, I'm sure. Draw is December 18.

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Deportivo la Coruna 1-3 Barcelona: The Last Pass

by Bob Lalasz on December 6, 2009

in Barca, Football

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Has Leo Messi plateaued? Everyone is thinking and almost writing that, while also protesting that it's almost churlish to think and write that, as they pull up short and blame Maradona's mind games. Messi's second in La Liga in goals scored — despite Maradona, despite exhaustion…isn't that everything? He scored twice yesterday and brilliantly dummied a pass that went to Ibrahimovic for the third. Case closed.

But he's no longer the king of the team, and his play speaks of insecurity over that (relative) fall. When he doesn't pass — which is even more frequent than last year, when he flagrantly ignored Samuel Eto'o so many times it looked like one of those unspeaking marriages where the parties use a son (probably Bojan) as a communication go-between for 30 years; when he dribbles into six defenders like a crazy gyroscope, wobbling through hits until someone finally steps in and steals his lunch…he looks no longer artistic but desperate, the boy at the adult party who doesn't understand why playing the same magic trick over and over isn't still charming everyone. When he does pass, it can be brilliant, and it can also be a buffoonish turnover, especially in midfield. The Barca fan keeps waiting for everything to click back into place, for the stars to rotate back half an inch and his crazy runs to once again yield their impossible and yet inevitable magic. Time passes for everyone — but even a 21-year-old Messi? Still, see the first goal yesterday in the video above — a thing of impossible, whirling, deadly beauty…

But it's Ibrahimovic's team now — yes, because of the El Clasico goal, but also because the game is so clearly on his boot when he has the ball. As Brian Phillips has pointed out, he stops better than anyone in the game. He stops, considers, calculates…then passes — almost always passes, and it is always the most creative, the most expressive, and the best possible pass, the mathematician an artist in the way that he solves the proof, the Way suddenly opening itself with extreme simplicity, his previous flamboyance at Inter now elegant, unadorned necessity. Our mouths agape. Who wouldn't be insecure around this? (Thierry Henry is practically invisible.) When Ibra did score yesterday, he smiled sheepishly, almost embarrassed at the largesse. He looks happy. Which, should it continue, means Barca always has a chance.

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