A young boy with train-track braces in blue and red like Barça defeated the giant that couldn’t be defeated, he and his friends standing tall in the place where everyone else falls. There were 13 minutes left in the opening clásico of the season, the first of a new era that wasn’t supposed to be theirs, when Lamine Yamal Nasraoui Ebana bared his teeth.
Bared his teeth, pointed at the name on his shirt and danced with Alejandro Balde for a bit, four celebrations in one starting with a calm down, I’m here: down in the south-west corner of the Santiago Bernabéu smiling, the ball in the net for the third time, victory secured and history written. Maybe a new future too.
