Terrible victory of the Barça

In any case, and so that it is not said that the other communities are not in solidarity with Catalonia, Celta helped the most ruined club in Europe, and which has spent the most this season, not to make a fool of itself also from the provinces, and gave it the first to Pedri, in an attempt to reject that ended up being a wonderful center. With the can open, or half open, Barça did not improve but the night turned out to be propitious, although not too much. Celta did not lower his arms and tried to do his thing, which was very little. But Barça was so sad and so lost that a 2-0 draw seemed just as likely. Well, not as likely either, but the simple fact that it was a possibility indicated the seriousness of the Barça moment.

Like some wives from a certain age – we husbands don’t know what we do because I’ve never had one – Barça talked a lot to say nothing. Words and more words said without any information or any meaning, that noise so annoying and so sterile: the same Barça with touches and more touches that did not lead anywhere, nor did they mean anything, they had no destination that could be taken even moderately I laughed. First part frustrating, unsightly, frightening. Victory did not seem in danger but it was not assured either.

The second part began with Jordi Alba failing like a limping old woman, who now only talks to her cats, and Celta wasting what, when wasted at the Camp Nou, condemns you to defeat. But the Galicians were commendable, despite the mistakes they tried again and Barça seemed even more disoriented than in the first half. Ter Stegen hurt himself going out for grapes, the German was grotesque, and he made the comedy of being treated by the masseurs to hide the shame of his disastrous intervention: in the repetition of the play the sung was appreciated, but not the moment in which could be injured. Barça didn’t get the ball and Celta didn’t know what to do with it when they had it.

What little Xavi’s men had, Ferran was in charge of breaking it up. It is no longer that he failed, that he failed, but that in 1950 a new way of making a fool of himself was invented, the most humiliating, which consisted of rejecting the shots of his companions who entered, as was the case of one of Mr. de Chía . It is now official that Ferran Torres is a denial of a player, an attack on football, more jinxed than Artur Mas. Like everything that Guardiola has sold us, he is a Trojan horse for Barça.

Celta took over the match but did not know how to transform the gifts that were given to them, which were diverse and of great generosity. De Jong, Ansu and Dembélé came on for Pedri, Ferran, and Raphinha. Foreseeable changes, and expected, piece by piece, without taking into account the game. Pedri was the only one who could light up the night and the decision was to remove the light bulb. The danger of being shipwrecked in Europe is that you get depressed and end up shipwrecked in Spain as well. As Felipe González says, someone who is only good enough to be the mayor of his town probably won’t even be good enough to be the mayor of his town. It was so absurd to think that Celta could equalize that not even the Galicians seemed to believe it, and timidly finished off their good attacks. In minute 69 they scored but offside. It was a first warning, but even so it was hard to believe that the second would come.

Sergi Roberto came on for Balde. Lewandowski, missing in action. Nothing nothing. Ter Stegen redeemed himself by saving a sung goal from Aspas.

Barça returned to depression, to the denial of any euphoria, to the feeling that in addition to having no money we have been left without a team. Ignoble suffering, from a minor and lost club, without a certain direction. Celta did not tie because Ter Stegen and God did not want it.