This is a thread on my experience at the Camp Nou yesterday. Everything, from my interaction with the locals to my thoughts on the game, and a lot of self reflection as well. Hope you enjoy (because I did):
First: The Two Ladies. There were 2 very old ladies (75+ years old) a few seats away from me, who shook hands when they arrived. They’ve been going to the ground for decades, to those very same seats, same as almost everyone around me. It felt like a small community, a family.
One of them showed me her Socio card, which she’s been carrying around for 30+ years. In fact, the card was so old, it was almost completely yellow & you could barely see her face. What surprised me the most though was their knowledge of the game.
They know everything ‘tactico’ accounts talk about on here, but with much simpler words & common sense. They were annoyed at the fact that Barca pinned Inter so deep, because it meant their wingers had no space to dribble & run in behind.
They were annoyed at Busquets from the first minute for moving the ball too slowly & cheered when De Jong came on, because he “flies” past players. And it happened, as soon as FDJ came on, Barca upped the pace so much, it looked like a completely different game.
One of them lamented Lewandowski’s performance, saying “I don’t know what we’ve done to this kid, he used to score with every shot”, to which the other replied “I forgot he was playing”.
When Inter scored the 3-2, hundreds of people immediately left the stadium, yet they both stayed & asked everyone around them to trust the team, because they had enough time to turn things around, as they’ve done countless times before.
When Lewandowski scored the 3-3, the crowd produced a roar like I’d never heard in my life. I felt connected to the world in such a pure, strong way: all the warmth around me, the shouting, the smiles, the sweat, the pheromones. I was finally out of my head, I was human again.
Coming back to the sense of community I mentioned earlier, these were all old people that brought their sons & grandkids with them. They spoke during the game in the same way you’d speak to your family at home. They all hugged at half time & went to grab a snack.
The passion on display, the happiness, the rage, the disappointment. They have such high standards, things I went crazy about (like Raphinha controlling switches of play without even looking at the ball) caused no reaction in them.
Dembele was the only one who got them off their seats, both in a good & bad way. I looked at him different today: he’s like me, a real person, a kid amongst men who fucks up constantly & doesn’t take himself seriously enough to polish the flaws that keep him away from greatness.
Footballers are forced to grow up so fast, we forget they are our age or even younger. Ousmane is gonna fuck up over & over again, and he’s gonna try over & over again, and he’s gonna get injured over & over again, and Barca fans are like his parents, frustrated & proud of him.
I had such a difficult time getting out of my head. So much has happened in my life lately, my mind drifted in lots of different directions while I tried to focus on the pitch. That’s when it struck me: I’d never felt the passion this people feel, not with Arsenal, not with Peru.
Or with anything, for that matter. Watching them so vibrant, so happy, so outraged, so impulsive, so fervent, so real, made me feel disappointed in myself. And then it struck me again: maybe this lot of nothingness I feel when trying to connect emotionally, is just the wrong way.
Maybe I’m simply a cerebral person, a walking mind, a constant reflection. Maybe that’s my biggest joy in life: knowledge, thinking, reflecting, writing, erasing, writing again. And maybe that’s okay.
My mood lifted so much after that, as soon as half time arrived, I left my seat and recorded 12 straight minutes of audio for a very dear friend, pronouncing my thoughts, making them tangible, before they’re wiped away by emotions in the second half.
So arrived the 2nd half. I rushed back to my seat & 4 minutes later, Barella scored the equaliser. 99,354 humans were so silent, you could hear the Inter bench shouting in joy. Barca players dropped their heads, but the crowd wouldn’t let them: they roared them back into shape.
The rest of the game is kind of a blur now, you have no other choice when watching games at stadiums. All I remember is Lautaro’s elegance in his all-white kit, Calhanoglu’s calmness under pressure, Gavi’s tackling, Pedri looking like the best player in the world.
Busquets’ commendable efforts to win the ball back (his positioning being so surreal, you had to feel admiration for the man behind the shirt) & Kessie not being able to get the ball under control.
Both keepers stole the show in their own way: Onana wasted time since the first minute & was booed every single time he had the ball; while Ter Stegen made some of the most spectacular saves I’ve seen in 24 years of watching football. The crowd chanted his name multiple times.
Onana’s vision to launch counterattacks, said counterattacks being executed at such pace, such pace being combined with precision. Champagne counterattacking football at the home of Tiki Taka.
Inter’s bench exploding, going into hysterics, running into the pitch without a care in the world. And finally, Inzaghi being sent off and his assistant losing his mind at him, shoving him & screaming in his face. Unreal scenes.
At the end of the match, the mood was gloomy, but I felt electrified. 6 goals, 36 shots, incredible saves, crushing tackles, cards, brawls: a clash of styles executed to perfection.
And most importantly: I felt human again. Rooted to the world like a tree in a sea of people. I closed my eyes for a whole minute and smelt the air, heard the noises, felt my feelings. Happiness, gladness, fulfilment.
A final tweet with some of the videos I captured. Hope you enjoyed!
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