None of this is normal.
To repeat: None of this is normal.
In the wake of Barça having a wild week in which they exorcised European demons by putting four goals past Bayern, then four past Real Madrid, as we celebrate the feats of this team it is worth, again, saying, that none of this is normal.
The replays of the stupendous Lamine Yamal golazo against RM were accompanied by that goal probability stat, which rated his goal at 15 percent, a number that seemed a bit high.
He took the pass, controlled and unleashed a perfectly placed shot into the top corner so quickly, from an angle so acute that we could all be forgiven for thinking he was going to reset, that he had drifted too far to be able to do anything with that moment. We were all stunned when the ball made the top corner of the net bulge with a force that made you wonder if it would have kept going, far into the crowd, had the net not been there.
It was not a normal goal, from not a normal player, on not a normal night, on not a normal team. That 15 percent probability stat, in many ways, also speaks to the kind of season that we are witnessing, even in its nascent state.
When Hansi Flick was announced, people had doubts. When reports emerged that he was super excited about coming to manage this team, we wondered why. And it was fair to wonder that. This group was a mess under Xavi, seemingly punching above its weight in getting close to the Liga title and the Champions League semis. What manager in his right mind would be excited about that?
There are managers who are man managers, who aren’t that amazing tactically but know how to create situations for their players to give of their best. There are also managers who are coaches, who work tactics, structure, who improve players and teams but don’t quite have that next level of man management that allows their disciplined teams to reach any kind of pinnacle.
The rare manager embodies both. Pep Guardiola obviously does, so does Hansi Flick, who did at Bayern exactly what he is doing at Barça, but only a fool would have expected that to happen, just as only a fool would assert that anything about what we are seeing is normal.
The undroppable nucleus of a team, if they wanted to take a vacation to, say, the U.S. to have a drinking party, some of them would need fake IDs. Balde, Casado and Fermin Lopez are 21. Lamine Yamal, who spoke in a recent interview about “when he was young,” is 17. At that tender age, he is the best winger in world football. The back line is anchored not by a wily veteran in Inigo Martinez, but by another 17-year-old in Pau Cubarsi. Pedri is 21. Gavi is 20. Marc Bernal, who was looking like a pivote to the manner born before his knee injury, is 17.
Players that young are usually still figuring out what to do, how to play, clamoring for playing time but understanding that they need to wait their turn. Flick came to Barça at a unique time, when almost every position on the pitch was open. Xavi handed debuts to Lamine Yamal and Cubarsi, and they quickly stamped their authority on their newfound roles. So did Bernal, who people thought was one for the future, and Casado, who people thought was one for the future when the other one who was one for the future became one for the more distant future.
None of this is normal.
We all do it, minimizing a bumper victory by saying, “Well, the other team played like crap.” The other extreme is the people who act like this is normal, like a bunch of kids whomping two of the best teams in the world, including one that last year won both Liga and Champions League is in any way normal.
Like that Lamine Yamal goal, or the way Cubarsi manages to, match after match, split lines to create opportunities for the mids, who no longer have to work like dogs to get into position to do their jobs, the way Casado now plays like he has already watched video of the match, is extraordinary.
Barça has done extraordinary things before, obviously. The treble wasn’t a part of the footballing lexicon until Guardiola, then Luis Enrique, crafted teams that won everything. Club academies weren’t celebrated like La Masia, which was even featured on the U.S. television show “60 Minutes.” Academies don’t usually turn out a passel of icons — Messi, Xavi, Iniesta, Puyol, Pique, Valdes. FC Barcelona has done extraordinary things, but with those things comes danger in both expectation and normalization.
Barça railed AlavesSevilla, then came the international break. Post-break Barça teams have traditionally been clunky on the return. We curse the break because it disrupts rhythm and form. Flick’s team returned from both breaks rampant. This week was thought of as a week that would define his team, define anticipations, define how we were supposed to think of them.
Bayern was an eternal bete noire, a harbinger of doom leavened only by MSN thrashing the Guardiola Bayern team. Lopsided scorelines and domination were the word of the day. That match was on a Wednesday. Then Real Madrid was on that Saturday. Holy hell.
Both opponents were dispatched with an ease that you only understood when you watched replays in the calmness of an assured result. Both matches made you think that Barça was on a precipice of collapse, that they could easily have been blowouts if only this or that, or then. Bayern had precisely no good scoring chances. Real Madrid had precisely zero shots on target after what seemed like a first half from hell.
“Flick would be crazy to play his usual high line and offside trap against Bayern, with those fast players.”
Nah.
“Well, but Flick would be crazy to play his usual high line and offside trap against Real Madrid, with Mbappe and Vinicius. It only takes one time getting it wrong … “
Nah.
RM was caught offside 12 times in the Classic, nullifying two goals, both by Mbappe. Twelve. Times. That, too, isn’t normal.
As a former manager, one of the things you learn very quickly is that your job is to make your workers happy. Happy workers will move the building to the left for you, while singing a happy tune. A boss asked me once how a reporter, previously sullen and unproductive, became buoyant and ravenous to be published under my care.
“Nobody ever trusted and had confidence in them before.”
Sometimes, it really is that simple. Flick has a system. The players change, but the system doesn’t. Inaki Pena, much maligned, had a fantastic match against both Bayern and Real Madrid. If the real value of the Szczesny signing was to allow Flick to say to Pena, “I know what people are saying, but you are my guy,” it seems to have worked.
But everybody is playing better. Lewandowski is pichici, knocking in goals with metronomic regularity. The captain’s armband and responsibility has instilled Raphinha with super powers. Martinez has recovered the form that one made him one of the best CBs in La Liga. Balde has improved, Casado plays with a deep understanding, Pedri is now, suddenly, the best midfielder in football.
Some of us were grumbling about Balde this season, and rightly so. In the last three matches we have seen a different, calmer and more effective Balde. Frenkie De Jong came on against Bayern, and was good. He came on against RM and was even better than he was against Bayern.
Managing is about empowering, coaching is about teaching. Flick has built a structure and a system, then empowered his players to excel. Lamine Yamal, after the Classic, said something like, “We are a team who believes in ourselves.” They aren’t playing with a chip on their shoulder. Far from it. They are, however, playing with belief. They don’t get down, don’t get flustered. They have lost this season to Monaco and Osasuna, both surprises for different reasons, and seem to have learned from those defeats.
That a team still coming into its own is this good isn’t normal.
The Bayern match left me speechless. It has been a very long time since culers have been able to anticipate good things from their team, been able to turn on matches with the thought that “Today is going to be a good day.” And we didn’t really realize how long that fallow period has been — at least not for me — until watching the Bayern match almost in stunned silence, anticipating the worst because that is what we have come to expect. “Sure they’re playing well now, but … “
The Classic was breathless, and they got to halftime and we took a breath, like execution had been somehow staved off, and there were another 45 minutes of misery. When Lewandowski notched a ridiculous brace in just a couple of minutes, there were about 30 minutes left, and the DAZN team quipped, “30 minutes or 30 years,” because Real Madrid have a mentality, a match isn’t over, they always come back.
What was so weird about both matches is that the better team won in both instances. Real Madrid in particular, plays in a swashbuckling way. Vinicius creates havoc, other players capitalize, it’s individual excellence that works because normally, a team doesn’t have enough minutes of shutting them down to keep it from happening. Barça under Flick, did.
It is impossible to know what is going to happen with the rest of this season, even as signs are as bright as they have been in a very long time. But this week of absolute delight has been special. Culers haven’t felt this way about the team we love in a very long time, and it’s hard to know what to do with that feeling.
What we do know, and should never forget is that this isn’t normal. Which doesn’t mean that it isn’t wonderful. So let’s just go with that.