- Narration: So we live the game
- LaLiga: This is the classification
A strange feeling of suffocation assails Barcelona every time it is time to get away from Camp Nou. As if the team had to go over and over again Sky Drive, with the Manson family lurking with their machetes. Cemeteries were established in Liverpool or Rome. The demand of the Champions, they say, rediscovered in Dortmund. Nothing changes. But the aches, and the dread, go much further. Ernesto Valverde's team has been away from home since last April 23. Among the abeliness of the interwar days, the null response to the emotion of others, the poor tactical fit of the players and the tremendous shortage in the areas are the disappointments. In Vigo or in Eibar. In Bilbao or Pamplona. Also in Granada. What's more. The nonsense as a rule in a team that has already lost in this League eight points out of 15 possible. [Narration and statistics: 2-0]
The barcelonist torture in the sunrises is too common. He has started losing in four of his first five league games. Although nothing like what happened in the shadow of the Alhambra, where 63 seconds were enough for those of Valverde to start another viacrucis. Junior Firpo will not forget such baptism. Unable to recover from the psychological torture of missing the inaugural goal, he no longer left the field in the second half.
The Granada of Diego Martínez, fabulous in all facets, the skies were opened from a simple door kick from his goalkeeper, Rui Silva. Lenglet fell to lead after his aerial duel with Gates. Junior Firpo, a holder due to the loss due to Alba's injury, his whole body shook. Not only did he not reach a ball that should be his, but then he slipped to the satisfaction of Soldier, who only had to give continuity to the action. Puerta focused, the ball rose above Ter Stegen after touching Piqué, and Azeez, already on the goal line, closed the sperm.
Far from reacting, Barcelona took pains to perpetuate the nonsense throughout the first half. An act in which he was unable to finish once at the door. Messi, Sergio Busquets and Ansu Fati witnessed from the bench how their team was blurred by the exultant pressure of Granada. Tidy, effective and hard. Sergi Roberto, harassed by Montoro, should recover the chronicles of the 70s in the old Los Cármenes, where Ramón Aguirre Suárez, Julio Montero Castillo and Pedro Fernández imposed their law by a scythe. That was scary.
Although if something is missing from this Barcelona, more than courage or heart, it is game. Sergi Roberto and Rakitic, this owner finally, were shipwrecked as interiors. Although there was no better metaphor than the passes from De Jong to Griezmann. The Dutchman, the only footballer in Barcelona on the field who was trying to sort out what was getting messy from the bench, attended shortly. Where Griezmann should be, who left the ball behind because he had already run into space. The French, world champion with France, the great Barca signing of summer, remains misplaced. On the left and on the right. In short or long.
Valverde, determined this season to abandon his traditional immobility, sought remedy after the break. He condemned Junior and also left Carles Pérez in the shower. Messi appeared, but also an Ansu Fati that showed the performance of Griezmann and Luis Suárez, with bull. The changes led to full restructuring. He went to 4-2-3-1, Sergi Roberto returned where his coach said he would not return, the right back; Ansu Fati displaced Griezmann from the band; and Messi activated the heroic plan. Bad business
Faced with such a scenario, and still half an hour to go, Valverde thought that Arturo Vidal's testosterone could contribute something. And he did, but where he shouldn't. The Chilean came up with a hand to walk behind a center of Carlos Fernández to which Ter Stegen was going to respond. The VAR hunted the penalty, and the German goal, guardian angel in the Westfalenstadion, was finally shot down before Vadillo.
Ansu Fati and Messi, a boy and a star just out of an injury, fought to exhaustion. His companions, on the other hand, surrendered to frustration. Or, as Los Planetas sang in San Juan de la Cruz, "some days were fire and others were llamas." The harsh reality of this Barcelona. Without faith. Aimlessly
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