Brilliant Barcelona destroy lame Blues

Well so much for the bad pitch and the lack of an extra fifteen minutes training this afternoon eh? Barcelona came to town and everybody expected a serious contest for the Catalans. By the end it was but an exhibition match, a charity game. Barcelona looked more like the Harlem Globetrotters and by full time Chelsea looked like the bums that endured ritual humiliation at the hands of the Globetrotters every night. Barca were that good. It wasn’t that Chelsea were bad as such, it was more a case of their playing philosophy, and their manager’s, being finally found out.

Chelsea have been hanging on for the last two months. They have been relying on an outstanding defence and a top class holding midfielder in the form of Claude Makelele or Michael Essien. They have struggled for goals for a long time and you can’t expect to lose to the likes of Middlesborough and expect to live with the best of Europe. Having said that though, it looked, briefly, that they might pull it off. Again. When Motta turned Lampard’s free kick into his own net it looked like Jose Mourinho and his pragmatic (some would say boring?) philosophy might get away with it. Fortunately, it served only as a delay before Barcelona, displaying a level of skill and confidence in their abilities singularly lacking in Mourinho’s side, proceeded to tear apart the Premiership Champions with a display that drew immediate comparison with the great Real Madrid teams of the 1950s and 60s.

This column was intended to be a critique of Chelsea and their manager and about chickens coming home to roost with the Asier del Horno sending off. Instead, I find myself completely preoccupied with the brilliance of Barcelona.

Time after time the Spanish orchestra, with Ronaldinho as composer-in-chief, entranced the Stamford Bridge crowd, the millions watching around the world, and most importantly the Chelsea defenders, with a symphony that dazzled for the remaining twenty-six minutes of this tie.

Chelsea surrounded Ronaldinho with three defenders but still could not get the ball off him. The eighteen year old Argentinean Messi, only signed in January, tormented first Asier Del Horno, then Paulo Ferreira. Deco, after a quiet first half, came into his own in the second half while Samuel Eto’o, possibly the best striker in the competition, found himself stuck out on the left wing but still cropped up to cap a wonderful move for the second goal.

Wave after wave of Barcelona players poured through the no man’s land of the midfield as Jose called back his troops to defend the fortress. Every time the Spanish side looked to be on the verge of breaching the defences, John Terry appeared like a blue knight. Twice he cleared off the line and cleared any number of crosses with his head. Perhaps it was inevitable that it would be he who would give the equaliser away with his own goal. Really though, it was just a matter of time. In the end Chelsea were lucky to get away with just a 2-1 defeat.

Next week they travel to the Nou Camp, needing to score at least twice and, somehow, not concede. Quite how they are going to manage that, and without Del Horno, rightly sent off for a sickening tackle on the brilliant Messi, well, if I was in the Nou Camp next Tuesday, I would be wearing red and blue.