United thrown to the Lionels

IT BEGAN with a massed tribute to Matt Busby but ended up as a homage to Catalonia. And while the man who was Mr Manchester United could only ever be pained by defeat – especially one as comprehensive as this – you have to suspect that even he would have secretly swooned at some of Barcelona’s fearless and at times flawless football in Rome last night.

This was the game played with flair, imagination and exquisite skill, the kind of dizzying carousel of passing which Alex Ferguson had warned his charges. But it was also underpinned by team spirit, hard work and, when United threatened, a more impressive defensive performance than anyone dared to expect of the Catalans’ patched up back four.

The Anglocentric view of football in our neck of the woods means that probably most attention will be paid to United’s manifest failings on the night, with the post-mortem sure to cast the futures at Old Trafford of Carlos Tevez and Ronaldo in an even more uncertain light.

This triumph brings to a memorable climax an audacious debut season for Pep Guardiola who becomes only the sixth man to win European football’s top trophy as player and manager. (For the record, the other names in this exclusive group are Cruyff, Rijkaard, Ancelotti, Munoz and a certain Mr Trapattoni of this parish).

That they were party to an utterly compelling if not quite classic contest – after all, it takes two to tango – will come as little consolation to Alex Ferguson whose dreams of empire-building in Rome were crushed by a team which now has Europe at its feet.

Barca know only one way to play, a sweet, seductive passing game so much a part of their very DNA you suspect they would rather die on their swords than revert to Route One.

At the heart of it all last night was the sublime Andres Iniesta who, along with Xavi Hernandez, thoroughly eclipsed the out-of-sorts Ryan Giggs and Anderson in the middle of the park. And then there was Messi versus Ronaldo. Not since Romulus and Remus has so much attention been given to a double-act in Rome but, despite the Argentinian getting his name on the scoresheet, it was Iniesta who really stole the show.

Beneath sultry Roman skies, there was a steamy, hothouse atmosphere in the stadium long before a ball was kicked, the massed ranks of the rival supporters trading anthems for a full hour before the start. In the Curva Sud, the fans created a massive Barca flag; in the Curva North at the opposite end, the United supporters unveiled their iconic tribute to Busby.

And, as if to honour him on the field of play, it was United who were straight out of the blocks, a Ronaldo free-kick, though it was not one of his best, troubling Victor Valdes, even if Park was unable to capitalise on the rebound. Already, with the game barely a couple of minutes old, and Ronaldo clearly keen to fire at will, there were worrying signs of nerves in the makeshift Barca defence.

And, indeed, a goal duly arrived but, as so often happens in football, it came against the run of play. With what was effectively their first attack, Barcelona took the lead in the ninth minute. Samuel Eto’o, so toothless against Chelsea, conjured the space in the box, left Nemanja Vidic looking statuesque, and then had just enough time and composure to beat Edwin Van der Sar from close range, despite Michael Carrick’s late lunge.

For the neutral, it was the best possible start. Now it was out of the question that Alex Ferguson could employ a cagey, containing strategy – United had to come out to play.

Except that Barca wouldn’t let them. The goal had a thoroughly transformative effect on the Catalans who suddenly seized possession of the ball and stubbornly refused to give it back.

In truth, this was inventive pass and move football of the highest order, and United seemed mesmerised by the imagination, flair and pace with which the Catalans bossed the ball.

Thus, it was with something of the boxer’s relief at hearing the bell at the end of a punishing round that United trudged off to the sanctuary of the dressing room.

The personnel change came with the restart, Ferguson turning to his talismanic substitute Carlos Tevez, as the ineffectual Anderson gave way. But while there was briefly more urgency to United’s play, the sight of Thierry Henry effortlessly turning Rio Ferdinand before drawing the save from Van der Sar, was a reminder that Barcelona were superbly equipped to punish the opposition on the counter-attack.

In the 50th minute, John O’Shea survived a Messi penalty claim when the Argentine was just short of connecting with Eto’o’s perceptive through ball. Then, after another great run by Iniesta was rudely halted by Vidic, on the edge of the box, Xavi’s free-kick thumped back off the post.

Past the hour mark and Ferguson sent on Dimitar Berbatov, United’s fabled fab four now all on the field of battle. But this was a night when the marquee names from Old Trafford simply failed to light up the greatest stage of all. Instead, it was Messi who sealed their fate and clinched the game, albeit in unlikely fashion. Xavi’s inviting cross was a thing of beauty, and there was the little Argentinian – the most marked of men suddenly roaming free in acres of space – to show that he can used his head as cleverly as he uses his feet.

All that remained was for Ronaldo to incur the wrath of Puyol and his comrades, for Paul Scholes, a late sub, to make his customary late tackle, and for Barcelona to tease and torment their demoralised opponents with exhibition stuff of the highest order. Time too for man of the match Andres Iniesta to receive an ovation from the ecstatic Barca fans as he was called to the line in time added on.

Of course, with United, you’re never quite sure they’re ready to be written off. But this time, there was no late, late show. That was Barcelona 1999. This was Barcelona 2009. A very different story.

Barcelona subs: Keita for Henry, 72); Pedrito for Iniesta (90).

United subs: Tevez for Anderson, (46), , Berbatov for Park (66), Scholes for Giggs (75).