Kids.
In trying to figure out why Hansi Flick’s Barça is like it is, maybe that’s the answer. Kids.
In an interview, Dani Olmo said that the young Barça players make the locker room like a party. Because what else would kids do? Being sensible is for grownups, and there is plenty of time for that.
Late in the Inter match, during that momentous minute, Pedri passed the ball to Lamine Yamal, a pass that came with instructions. Do this. We need time to go away. Pedri, all of 22 years old, gave the ball to a 17-year-old, a kid who was and is, fearless.
So many asked, “Why would you take that shot?” Lamine Yamal would likely answer, “Why wouldn’t you?” PlayStation, social media, fun and bad decisions, kids always seem surprised when things go badly because one of the beautiful things about youth is nothing is ever going to go badly. It never occurs to them.
Flick’s Barça went down 2-0 to Inter at the San Siro, were 2-3 up when things unraveled in a minute. The same team went down 0-2 to Real Madrid, essentially with the league on the line, and in a relatively wee hunk of time, were suddenly up 4-2.
Of course they were.
The second goal was an audacious strike from Lamine Yamal (who else?), a curler hit from an oblique angle, a challenge to the best keeper in the game. “Stop this one, smart guy.” He didn’t. Couldn’t. The shot wasn’t struck with venom, hit just hard enough. The main thing was the curl, off the first touch because controlling a ball is for mortals, people unsure of where they are in life.
Kids make bad decisions, because they’re kids. Lamine Yamal was going to take that shot against Inter because … well … what could happen? A goal. Let’s do this.
Do something. Nothing might be something to grownups, taking the ball into the corner, standing over it, letting time elapse, but where’s the fun in that? It never occurred to him that he wouldn’t score, that the rest of the match would collapse, that it would go into extra time where his team would lose. And maybe, just maybe, it isn’t supposed to, is wonderful that it doesn’t?
Flick essentially handed the reins of the team to kids — Lamine Yamal up front, Pau Cubarsi at the back. They are two of the best players on the team, and also the youngest. When kids are leaders, their senses infuse a team, permeate the room with the scent of impossibility. “Why can’t we come back? There aren’t any rules.”
One of the most audacious things Lamine Yamal did in that Inter match was a snap shot, taken in a single motion that had him act like he was turning away from the Inter goal only to unleash a rocket. Sommer dove and just saved it. It was an astonishing strike.
Aging builds common sense, builds logic, builds fear, limits possibilities. “We tried that once and it didn’t work.” Kids are like, “Well I haven’t tried it. It didn’t work for you, but you’re old.”
Athletics, particularly team sport at the topmost levels, talks about belief. Believing you can do it. What if there is also a quality of not really believing that you can’t, not interested in being told that you shouldn’t, so you act like you can. And you do, often enough to win a domestic triple, to be one minute away from being in the Champions League final, to go undefeated against your club’s historic rival.
When Lamine Yamal scored the goal that curled past Courtois as though on a track, he hit it and started running to the corner to celebrate. He hit it and knew. Could Courtois have done something incredible and somehow saved it? Sure. But he wasn’t going to, because kids also have confidence.
Grownups so often ask kids, “Why would you do that?” The kid invariably replies, “I dunno. I didn’t think anything bad would happen.”
Flick’s Barcelona team has no template for failure. Those kids weren’t around when Valverde’s teams gave up big leads in Europe, weren’t around for any of the Champions League failures except the one under Xavi and even then, it wasn’t their team yet. They were lauded debutantes, given a shot by a manager who needed to do so.
This team is theirs and maybe, just maybe, it does what it does because why wouldn’t it? Two goals down? “So what. We’ll just score three.” “But we’ve never done that before.” “YOU have never done that before. I just got here.”
Kids roll through life with joy. They run, leap, scream, do everything to the maximum because they haven’t learned how to be grownups, how to be tempered by failure. Flick has instilled his team with belief. We talk a lot about the mentality of this team, how it just doesn’t even think it’s done, how it seems surprised when time runs out and they haven’t done it, like, “How did that happen?”
A friend of mine had a daughter, a new driver, who knocked over a post at a restaurant drive-through. She got her food, misjudged the turn and nosed into the post. So she hit the throttle. Seemed easier than backing up, and what could happen? Down went the post. Problem solved. Sure, there was damage, but we can fix that, right? So what’s the problem?
At some point, Lamine Yamal is going to grow up, Pau Cubarsi is going to grow up. They won’t become lesser players, will likely become better players. But you’re only a kid once, only one shot to approach the world as this vast palette of possibilities. As a team leader, you infect and influence. You keep running, and working, and shooting, and pressing, and trying to score. And you score the goal that equalizes and just stand there with your arms folded, like, “Well, what else was going to happen?”
What is difficult for us is to not think, “Well what are they doing that for? You don’t do that.” You don’t come back from multiple goals down, don’t win trophies with a team of kids, geezers and freebies, don’t sweep the season series against your club’s eternal rival, a rival just off winning the league and who added the alleged best forward in football to the roster.
Everything Barça does is slathered in audacity. The high line, the offside trap, passes with the outside of the foot, runs. So many runs made out of belief that the ball will get there. Week after week people said, “Rivals are going to figure it out.” And sure, they lost a few matches but were rarely beaten, rather they lost because of their own errors. Not finishing chances, poor decisions on the ball late in a match. Inter snatched Champions League glory from them but even then if a few players do something other than what they in fact did, the result is different.
Do something. Kids want to do something, to take action. Lamine Yamal will sometimes pick the wrong pass, or the most difficult option. To us it’s “Why would you do that? There is a safer, easier pass.” Kids are like, “Yeah, but it’s gonna be cool when it works. Watch.”
Szczesny, who just a few months ago was strolling the countryside enjoying a cigarette or two, after the Classic ended, just squatted down in front of his goal, in tears as the kids danced. To him it was an incredible thing, something that has been a wonder to experience. Christensen walked down the pitch to get him, playfully stomping the last few steps like, “Hey, it’s party time. Let’s do this,” awakening Szczesny from his reverie.
This has been an astonishing season, one that not even the most bright-eyed culer would have predicted. The team has never stayed down long. The Sunday after a massive disappointment on Tuesday, it showed up and dusted off its rival, coming back from two goals down and setting up winning the league.
“Well, duh.”