The nets where Barcelona had scored four times, twice at the north end, twice at the south, had been unhooked and hung flat. The benches had been vacated, bottles and bits of tape lying everywhere. Around the pitch, circled by those plastic chairs, people packed away another clásico. The Santiago Bernabéu was quiet except for the lawnmower crossing the grass until it was broken by a cheer, the sound of embraces. The players were on the bus but Joan Laporta, Jordi Cruyff and Mateu Alemany were by the tunnel taking it all in when Xavi Hernández appeared.
An hour after the final whistle, heading towards midnight and long after everyone else had gone home, there was time for one last look and more bear hugs. It really had happened: Barcelona had beaten Real Madrid 4-0, which is why there was time for pictures too, Xavi and his staff lined up for a team photo: a memento for the kind of moment most people thought wasn’t coming back. Not this soon, at least. But then Laporta isn’t most people and nor, it is becoming very quickly clear, is Xavi.
