The Strange Death of Barça

For a second time this season, Lionel Messi stood, hands on his hips: exasperated, incredulous and confronted, perhaps, by his own humanity. For a second time this season, Ernesto Valverde slouched, hands in his pockets: morose, unsmiling and seemingly out of his depth. Barça had just lost the Copa del Rey final to Valencia, another bizarrely meek display in a match of supreme importance. On the final whistle you could already hear a hum of contempt from the Barça faithful who, fat on years of consistent bounty, do not enjoy the prospect of a summer with cupboards bare.

Barça’s 2-1 loss to Valencia on May 25 was a game it had to win, more for the statement than the trophy. But there was no point made by Barça here, there wasn’t much of anything—the only thing that sticks in the memory is the commentator’s repeated “we nearly witnessed a moment of Messi magic.” This was one of those nights when Messi cuts a careless figure, his shuffling amble looking less like poised nonchalance, and more like an overly-casual assumption he would at some point do something exquisite to win the game.

By any normal standards, this has actually been a very successful season for Barça. Retaining La Liga, reaching the semi-final of the Champions League and the final of the Copa is nothing to be sniffed at.

But Valencia, to its credit, deserved victory, a fine end to an odd season that had no right to end on such a high. And for Barça, well, this is football—inexplicable losses are not uncommon, and such a defeat might even have been permissible if it weren’t for the ignominy of a few weeks previous, if a European Cup final still lay ahead of them.

Messi and co. went into the second leg of their Champions League semi-final against Liverpool on May 7 with a three goal lead, the kind of scoreline that justifies a little complacency: score one away goal and the tie is dead. But complacency doesn’t come close to explaining what happened. In a pathetic, cringing imitation of Barcelona teams past, the midfield trio of Busquets, Rakitic and Vidal allowed Liverpool to control the game from the off, giving them the one thing they needed: momentum. After one, two, and then three goals conceded without reply, Divok Origi’s fourth seemed inevitable, and while Liverpool gained all the plaudits for a terrific comeback, Barça’s spineless no-show should really have been the story of the night.

But, as I said, this is football—freak scorelines happen—especially, it seems, this season. Maybe, just maybe, if the Liverpool loss were Barça’s first such disaster in recent times then it too could have been glossed over, a small stain on white of the Creu de Sant Jordi emblazoned on the club’s crest. But you don’t have to go back far to find another similarly wretched display on Europe’s biggest stage—only 12 months, in fact. In 2018, Roma, having lost 4-1 at Camp Nou, beat Barça 3-0 in the Champions League quarter-final second leg to go through on away goals. Yes, Roma played well, with last minute heroics from Kostas “The Greek God in Rome” Manolas taking it through. But Barça let this happen, prostrating itself at the feet of a team who only the most melodramatic of pundits would dare to compare with the divine (ahem, Mr. Drury).

Barça’s recent footballing identity has been characterized, in the main, by possession, but this alone is no longer the way to win at the highest level.

The Roma loss defined this campaign for Barça; Messi’s inadvisable comment at the start of the season that he desired the Champions League above all else proving as much. If defeat in Italy was a stain, then defeat at Anfield marks a crest beginning to rot. The remnants of the last truly great Barça team—Busquets, Messi, Pique, Alba—are growing old, tired legs starting to creak under the pressure of holding this team together.

One look at Twitter, that seething echo-chamber which apparently functions as a barometer of fan satisfaction these days, confirms this growing discontent. Barça fans, be they real or Russian bots, have been screaming into the ether since the Liverpool loss, calling for Valverde’s head, players out and worse. Whether you believe such an insurrection is warranted or not, there are clearly a worrying amount of issues with this Barcelona side.

The criticism has been threefold: big signings under-performing (Coutinho), a squad unable to cover for missing players (Suarez was conspicuous in his absence during the Copa final), and an absolute reliance on Messi, who at 31 years old and reaching the end of his career scored over a third of Barça’s La Liga goals this season. The imminent influx of marquee signings might go some way to filling this gap—Dutch hot property Frenkie de Jong is already on his way to Camp Nou—but is plugging holes really enough? After all, the signings made before the start of this season seemed shrewd enough at the time.

Another option has been to blame Valverde, whose lack of tactical nous and uninspiring leadership have seen him offered up as a scapegoat, and given he has been at the helm on all three aforementioned humiliations, it’s not entirely unjustified. However, other suggestions that Barça’s recent failures point to something deeper, something more pernicious, actually carry more weight.

While it looks like a new home of European footballing hegemony is appearing, only time will tell whether this is a blip or a real changing of the guard. If the latter is true, then Barça’s loss to Liverpool could prove to be a symbolic turning point.

Barça’s recent footballing identity has been characterized, in the main, by possession, but this alone is no longer the way to win at the highest level. As Carles Rexach writes in El Mundo Deportivo, “Tener la pelota está muy bien, pero debe servir para algo”—to have the ball is fine, but it must serve for something. Pep Guardiola’s 2008-12 Barça team revolutionized the modern game with a possession based, short passing game, but he has long since moved on from both from the club and pure tiki-taka. Pep’s Manchester City side still dominates possession, but plays with rampant wingers, a relentless press in defense and a ruthlessness that Barça’s meandering midfield completely lacks. He has evolved, while Barça remains stagnant, playing a dull, pragmatic kind of tiki-taka-lite, beating La Liga’s whipping boys but failing to succeed when the pressure is on.

Barça’s recent frailties represent a larger trend too. That they are coinciding with crises at both Madrid sides is a signal, perhaps, that Iberian dominance is nearing its close. 2019 will be the first time in five years without a Spanish Champions League winner, and only the fourth time in the last ten years that no Spanish team will feature in the final. Instead, an all English Champions League decider awaits, and likewise in the Europa League, making this the first time that the four finalists of Europe’s top two competitions will be from one nation.

However, the extent to which this should be viewed as a credit to the teams involved is debatable. This new Anglo-dominance is more readily explained by the absurd wealth of the Premier League. English football has become bloated on the riches of unfathomably lucrative TV deals (and in one particular case the unlimited resources of an autocratic petro-state), meaning the world’s finest talents are increasingly attracted to its wetter climes. While it looks like a new home of European footballing hegemony is appearing, only time will tell whether this is a blip or a real changing of the guard. If the latter is true, then Barça’s loss to Liverpool could prove to be a symbolic turning point.

I’ll end with a caveat: by any normal standards, this has actually been a very successful season for Barça. Retaining La Liga, reaching the semi-final of the Champions League and the final of the Copa is nothing to be sniffed at, and doing so while basking in Real Madrid’s calamitous failures should have been cause for celebration in itself. But it is the manner in which Barça has whimpered its way through the season’s climax that is surely a cause for concern. One sole win in the final five games means those questions about identity will fester over the summer. Forecasts of the end of an era, a club in decline, new European usurpers… after Saturday’s loss, these all suddenly seem a little more plausible.

Harry Stott is a regular contributor to the Barcelona Metropolitan covering Brexit, local political and social issues as well as the music scene. He recently received a B.A. in music from the University of Leeds, and now writes and produces radio content for a number of organizations in Barcelona and beyond. You can read more of Harry's articles here.