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This is not a game to talk about the match itself, but your personal story of it. I think it'd be nice to know how was this day in your life. The pre-match, the game, the post-match.

Days like this 2nd of May don't happen that often. They stay in our hearts, we'll keep talking about it for ages, we'll talk about this game to our kids, people will talk about it even we are dead...

I'll start with mine.

I woke up at 11 or so. The day before I went to Soria to spend the long weekend of the 1st of May with my girlfriend. The day was really nice, even in the coldest city of Spain. The morning was pretty calm, we walked around the city (very nice, btw) and we went to buy something to eat... nothing special.

After lunch, I started to feel nervous. Since the previous night had been long, I decided that the best option to make time was to sleep a siesta. I had to swear that I had a nightmare with this game and I had an ugly moment... "Well, it's just a bad dream".

With one hour to go yet, we went to walk around and look for a bar to watch the game. She doesn't like football much, so she went to buy some clothes and I stayed in a bar called 'El Collado'. 20 people or so, some old people, a couple of drunk Malaga ultras (they played against Numancia that night) and some declared barcelonistes and madridistas around.

I asked for a beer. The game starts and my heart was beating fast. I get nervous, seeing how Abidal is unable to stop Robben... even though Barça looks better on the pitch, which is predictable, those runs of Madrid in the right wing make me nervous... slap in the face, somehow I saw that coming, Higuaín scores and the madridistas and the malaguistas celebrate it. Silence among the barcelonistes. My girlfriend appears in the bar and, just looking at my face, she says "Barça are losing, right?"... I look at her in silence, you can imagine my face at that moment... but Messi connects with Henry and BAM!... I just say a short and deaf "GOL"... I start to talk with a barcelonista that is alone in front of me and, after another run by Henry, we praise his football... "Titi is the best so far", we agree. Then, the 2nd!!! The celebration is louder, explosion of joy, the other 50% stay in silence.

The game continues and Barcelona waste a chance... and another... and another. I suffer in silence. In fact, the silence is what dominates the bar. I asked for a 2nd beer... Xavi makes Lass look like a fool and Messi does it. The 3rd goal is celebrated... I could also see some people making runs in the streets celebrating the goal and first chants of "Campeones"... a bit shy. Obviously, I don't do it. I am always too scared to do that. :D

Half time. Some madridistas leave the bar, the damn Malaga ultras leave the place too. I smoke my 100th cigarrette of the last hour. My girlfriend says "you look much better now". I tell her that this is not true... :D

I call my father. I talk to my mother first. She tells me "hehehe... you seem happy". I can't deny it, even though I don't feel 100% sure yet. My father is in a different room and picks the phone. I tell him: "Did you see it?!! UNBELIEVABLE! 1-3!"... My father gets mad: "I can't watch it, I didn't want to watch it and you call? Damn, ****, shut up, this is not finished yet". He's damn serious. "Ok, ok, I'll call you later".

The 2nd half starts and, talking with the barcelonista next to me, I tell him that I don't like to see the team speculating with the ball. The referee marks our people better than the madridistes... and that foul and their goal. "Damn, ****ing referee". A madridista talks near me "another remontada!!". I don't even look at him. I guess I looked very serious at that moment. I must admit I had a bad feeling, again DNA.

But Xavi finds Henry... he shoots and... goal? offside? goal? It was the most quiet goal celebration in a Clasico. Still scared for the 2-3 and the drama of seeing that ball rolling slower, I think I didn't even say "gol"... I just make a long breath.

Barça's domination get more and more evident. I start to feel calm and enjoy the game. "Wow... Iniesta is great"... "wow, Eto'o is working a lot today"... "wow, Piqué looks like Beckenbauer"... and then the 5th. I think it was my first smile. "Another beer!!". The madridistas leave, the celebration starts, "campeones campeones", "eoeoeo... esto es un chorreo".

And 6!!! I think about my grandpa... he would have enjoyed this! My father calls me and he's screaming and laughing. "What a moment!!". Conversation about the game, laughter, pure happiness!

We leave the bar and you can see groups of people singing, jumping, cellebrating the victory... I can see a madridista in a corner, along and looking nowhere, although I think he doesn't see nor listen to anything. He's like a statue.

We went to another bar. We ask for wine and the bar tender tells me "Barcelonista, right? I can recognize you all just looking at your face. Congratulations!". Great dinner!! Wines, good food, good atmosphere... and Numancia is winning, so happiness all around.

The night continues in the bars and pubs, even music in the street (I don't know exactly why). The numantinos happy, the barcelonistes too. The madridistas don't exist or there's no evidence of it. The night is long and I am drunk. Fantastic weekend.
 

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I don't now why, but I get a really big "vicky christina and Barcelona" feel from your story :D It seems like you were living in the movie and was beeing the lead-actor, Manuel or whatever his name was.

Mine wasn't that great and special at all. I'd been partying two nights in a row before Saturday until 5 am with the hottest DJ's in electronic music (so thursday and friday), so I decided to stay at home and watch the match all alone with a bottle of water instead of beer, better that way considering the amount I curse, scream and throw things around. My mother entered the room when Puyol scored the 2-1 goal because she thought I was having a heartattack, I picked my 85 Kg mother up and threw her in the air out of heppiness then :D

A very nice three days for me, and with El Clasico to cap it off....ohh, I think I'll remeber it until I turn 70 :D
 

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Great thread idea JA

I won't go into the entire details of the day but just one great moment. I coach a team of 16 year boys and I have made it my goal to make them all Barcelona fans.

I started to hear from all of them during the game when Puyol scored. they were all screaming "PUYOL SCORED COACH, PUYOL SCORED!" It was just awesome.

What an amazing game. Puyol kissing the Senyera, Pep saying it one of the best days of his life, Luis Enrique saying that it was a futbol orgasm!!!!
 

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this is how my 2nd of May 2009 day started : ;)


I wake up at 2PM after forcing myself into sleep every time I wake up earlier, hehe, you can tell I can't stand waiting for the game.
I looked at the watch, and knew there is no way in hell I'd be waiting for the game in silence and a lone I wanted a Madridesta to make his life a living hell befor the game, I got up took a shower and started going from house to house starting from my grandfather house "from my mother side" and make my uncle who's a Madridesta feel more nervous, and telling him today Eto'o will score a hat-trick, and he'll open a 2nd hole for this team to shit from, he just hate Eto'o with all this talk we been taking between us and the loud laughing and too add to the tip of it, it was me vs 3 madridesta :D

went to a friend house to check around at 4 PM, it was like the longest Hours in my life, time just can't pass by at any mean, kept hunting Madridesta for a few 2 hours, then went to my brother in law house, as me and him, sit picking in his other brother in law who's a madridesta, and kept going around the internet to read comments and check those who kept the trash talk about us before the game, and I wanted to put all the anger I've got from this up "Jashua" ass, I just wanted to make him eat shit before eating his own words.

game started, and I was like fvck it, I can't even think straight, kept my head and eyes on the game in hand, one goal for them, and you could easily hear screams from all around the next house as Madridestas just felt they won everything I couldn't hold my anger, and pang Messi to Henry and he'd just make it 1-1, I was jumping up and down, screaming my head off, my brother in law walked away from tv room and there was the foul, I told the madridesta its a goal "enshallah" its the 2nd and we are killing you today, pang its PUYOL header and I was screaming and running around the room, calling my brother in law as loud as I can, its the 2nd, its the 2nd, its Puyol the lion heart scored "SHAMSHOM THE GREAT" just scored.

madridesta face look was priceless, pure look as if he's saying "fvck why did I even wake up today to be here" :D

3rd and the story kept going with us dancing and screaming, I just couldn't hold myself from calling every madridesta and trash talking to him as it been a fvcking long week for me as everyone of them kept calling me and wishing us get hammered by Chelsea and madrid and some went as far as wishing some of our players get a long injuries. and I was telling wait for the game and you'll eat these words with shit on top of this shit.

2nd half they score, the phone rings, people calling it "it will be the come back of all come backs" just with one talking trash XAVI to HENRY and madrid got a "a big fist up their ass" so hard pushed it went so far to their brain :D :pp

and celebration all night, I couldn't sleep, I slept today "sunday" at 4 PM, just wake up at 10 PM, looking as if I'm still drunk of joy, people should look at my face, I've been so happy, I couldn't even stop smiling even when I was sleeping, LOL!

a day to remember, this 2nd of May 2009, will stay in my heart and soul for ages, I'll tell it to my children, I'll keep it in my heart as I witnessed the greatest game for ages, I've never felt such joy of winning in Madrid in my life, not even the 0-3 of Ronaldinho, this game was a come back, this game was against the world not only Madrid fans, it was a statement from our players and coach, it was a lesson on how to play football the right way, its the game to make everyone knows that greatness don't come with making walls in defence, it comes with going forward and put one in the net every time you get someone to ask you to.

all I can say after this long post is pure simple..


VISCA EL BARCA i VISCA PEP GUARDIOLA :proud: :fero:

thanks for making a very depressed my so happy, thanks for showing the world why this club Futbol Club Barcelona is Mes Un Club
:proud: :proud: :proud:
 

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Bah Pakito... I watched the game in my living room with my son roaming around saying "OW! Bassa... Bassa..." everytime he sees the logo or the uniform on TV.
Still just as great a time as you had ;)
 

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Great move, JA. I had been wanting to start a thread like this, but you did it first. :thumbsup:

So, 2nd of May for me

The day starts rather slow. I spent all of May 1st with my girlfriend, and I got to bed late so I slept 'till noon the following day. After I had woken up, I thought to myself "Good, sleeping in eliminates at least a few hours of suspense before the game." For that day, I had nothing special planned but El Clasico. My family know all about my passion all too well, and it's clear when Barcelona are playing, even if the Rolling Stones were to come and visit my father, I know we'd all be sitting in silence watching Barca. So I get up and tell my mom the plan - tonight Barca are on, some people will be over. Can you make something to eat? Great!

First I wanted my best friend to come and watch it at my house. The only other time he watched El Clasico with me, we won. But bad news, he can't make it, he doesn't have a car available to come over. No matter, I invite my other Barcelonista friend to come over. Very passionate guy, doesn't hesitate to say anything, so I know it would be a treat to watch it with him. He accepts the invitation. Another person I wanted to watch the game with was my cousin, a Madridista (actually a Gunner, but likes Madrid a lot, a Mo in my family I suppose). He can't make it, he has a bachelor party to attend. Doesn't matter, the other people watching it with me are the really important ones - my parents and my girlfriend.

The preparations for the game have started around 13:00. I drop by the store to get some groceries mom wanted for the food she was going to prepare for El Clasico. I get home and start surfing the Internet, mainly XT, for thoughts and predictions on the game. I paid a visit to a few other sites, special mention goes to goal.com who would go on and mostly make embarrassing predictions (3-1, 3-0, 2-1 etc). Then I start contemplating betting on El Clasico, something which has gone all too badly last time (0-1, Baptista). Finally sense reaches my brain and I decide that I need the money for cell phone expenses my girlfriend and I have. The preparations continue with me preparing chips, drinks and all that other stuff, to make sure everything is there.

The game is getting near. My plan for the rest of the day is to study, visit my grandparents and take a shower. I only managed to shower. I couldn't study because I didn't have any concentration, and I also had no time for any family visits because I spent a good part of my day reading game previews on the damn Internet.

The time has come for me to go pick up my girlfriend. We arrive back to my house, but my Barcelonista friend is late. He had never been to my place before, and he doesn't know his way around my town, so he gets lost. Because of that, the two of us miss the first minute of the game. I'm already pissed off. I'm running around the room carrying glasses and plates, I'm late with my final preparations because of the confusion with the instructions I gave on how to find my house. Finally I can sit back next to my girlfriend and enjoy the game.

Barca are looking good. We're playing a smart game, sending killer balls up front, Madrid didn't expect that. But soon I get really pissed off at Abidal for not decapitating Ramos prior to his cross. I spend the time between Higuain's goal and that of Henry blaming Abidal and cursing our usual soft starts to Bernabeu Clasicos. I start calling for someone's legs to get fixed while my cell phones notifies me of a text message from my cousin - "Pipita will punish you." Henry scores and suddenly I get a very positive feeling about the game. We go on and score a couple of goals before the break, and my girlfriend witnesses my Barcelonista nature, smashing things and saying ludicrous stuff during intense games.

"This clock needs a faster battery!" The half time break is on and I'm impatient. My dad is watching UEFA Cup highlights of Srna, Vukojević and Olić, while my mom interrogates my friend on what he does and why, and I talk to my girlfriend who is astonished by my attitude and the intensity of my reactions.

Finally, the second half starts. "Why is Henry still in there?? He looked injured... hmm, someone's head should come off if he isn't fit for Chelsea." The gay bastard makes it 2-3 and I'm nervous, already seeing a very close match and thinking to myself "A draw would be a disaster now."

But it's all great, we score three more goals and, as each goal is scored, laughter and disbelief replace madrid hostility and anger in my reactions. I'm no longer furious at them, I don't care anymore. I just think to myself "Thanks, Fergie!!!!" I kiss my gf every couple of minutes, when Madrid briefly take the ball (usually goal kicks).

The night is wonderful. I've got great people around me, we're watching the single most amazing game I've ever witnessed, there's all the food and drinks you could want, my gf is sitting by my side, Barca are red hot and I only get a couple more text messages, this time pro-Barca as the Madridistas have gone silent.

My friend is on his way out of the house and we discuss how it was an amazing game. He's gone and my gf and I make our way to my room upstairs. We decide to watch some TV, and I know she doesn't feel too comfortable in the clothes she's wearing so I tell her that I have the most appropriate solution - my Puyol shirt that I had been wearing during the Historic Game. She puts it on, and I put on my Eto'o shirt, as a sign of support for the poor guy. We're lying next to each other on my bed, watching TV. She's close to falling asleep, in a soft and comfortable Puyol kit, with her head resting on my chest. I'm watching TV but my brain isn't registering any of it. My mind is somewhere else. I'm replaying El Clasico in my mind, at the same time thinking how beautiful that night is, how perfectly everything has gone, what wonderful moments I'm living and how fortunate I am to be able to witness the era of a true Dream Team II, the best team I have ever seen, the team that has all the ingredients to become the best in the history of football.


Thank you, Barca!! :proud::proud:
 

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Cool. I'll chip in, why not.

It was the best of times....no, seriously. :D

I woke up, as I always do on saturday, because someone else woke me up. In this case, to watch Celtic away to Aberdeen. 3-1 to Celtic if you're interested, decent result for my local team. :D I then had my breakfast around half 2 as usual :howler:, then decided to continue working on achievements in Far Cry 2. Being shot by African mercenaries is fun. Plus, you can shoot deer if you see one. :D

Usually watch the results coming in, saw that Glentoran had won the title in Northern Ireland. Seems like good results so far. :D Squeezed in more Far Cry 2 before a delicious dinner of meatballs and pasta. If this all seems somewhat mild, it's because it is. I never get that nervous at all before the game, and like camer, I was sure we would win. Spent the last hour or so reading Jamie Carragher's book and watching Everyone Loves Raymond. :D Before the match, in the toilet I looked up and said "God, you didn't help us beat Chelsea, fair enough. But we need this one, come on man!"

The game, I felt reasonably good, until I saw Abidal struggling to deal with the overloading down that side. They scored, and I remained silent. Eventually mumbling about poor defending to my bro. Then of course, the ridiculously good looking Henry completed an excellent one two with Messi and my bro and I shook fists in the air, shouting the typically Glaswegian "YAAASSSS". I also had noticed by this point that the sound on SKY was ahead of the footage. Whilst I was demanding the ref punish Cannavaro for fouling Henry, Xavi had already crossed the ball. I raised my fist, because I heard the crowd react, then of course Puyol, that stallion of a man, leapt forth and arrowed his sniper like header into the corner. I professed eternal love for this man, as we all did. :D

I felt the same as I did in the 0-3 game, we were ahead but missing chance after chance. Then of course, Xavi set up Messi, and I shouted "Messi!" but my voice went embarrassingly high. :howler: I spent half time discussing our awesomeness with my bro, and demanding concentration from the troops. Of course, annoying moments from the ref, a soft free-kick, and Sergio Ramos' girlfriend scored their second. I mumbled, I might have swore a few times. But before I had time to complain, the swollen genitaled Xavi picked out France's finest export, and I was laughing at Madrid's crushed dreams of comeback. I then said "come on lads, make it 5 now!" More laughter when The Holy One finally did so. Then pure hilarity when I saw Pique striding upfield, followed by the orchestra playing suitably heroic music I had imagined in my head. He scored a ridiculous goal, and I giggled like a schoolgirl seeing a boy flash his penis under a schooldesk (true story). I spend the rest of the match struggling to contain my joy, and posting here as anyone who reads the match thread will see. :howler:

Full time, I went to the toilet, looked up and said "If that was you, thanks man". :D I searched across various forums to see what people were saying about it, and honestly got pissed off at the douchebags who said things like "the defending isn't good". Watch another sport then, twats.

As an aside, I checked livescore.com between downloading the goals to see Inter had also won. Blue chip day, folks. :D
 

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I don't now why, but I get a really big "vicky christina and Barcelona" feel from your story :D It seems like you were living in the movie and was beeing the lead-actor, Manuel or whatever his name was.
Javier Bardem :thumbsup: :D so true

Great stuff guys, and you just can't go wrong with K4, the guy is a legend :proud:
 

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Great thread.

Well, my day was unusually hectic in that I had to move out from my university lodgings and go back home early in the morning. Just as I was about to be checked-out by a qualified resident assistant, some blond girl comes in and says "I have a flight in an hour!" I wanted to spit in her face and say "Barca is on in a few hours", but she (and everyone else) wouldn't have understood, so I stayed silent. Plus she was gorgeous, so I smiled meekly and tried to look cool by adopting my best "seducing" look: gaze absently in the distance and pretend you're pre-occupied with lofty thoughts (it's the best I can do). Of course, then another girl positioned herself in front of me, and so I couldn't stare ahead anymore. I pretended to yawn and swung my keys as if I was indifferent about all this, but inside I was burning to blow something up. As usual, no-one paid any attention to me.

After awkward small-talk with the resident assistant ("This must be a busy day", "I hope this will be quick", "It's hot", "I prefer my cereal with cold milk", etc.) I checked-out, hit the road, listened to Arcade Fire in the car to get me through the boring ride, and arrived home at around noon. I watched the match with my dad, with my mom popping into the room whenever the commentator raised his voice with "Did someone score?" This happened about 30 times, so, yes, it got a little annoying.

Anyway, the first goal happened and I had begun to debate various forms of suicide when, all of a sudden, Messi found Henry with that exquisite ball and the match was level. I remember being very annoyed for a brief moment, because I had figured out a very effective and clean solution, and the goal woke me up.

Then the free-kick came, and I wondered which hair gel Xavi uses when he curved that delicious ball in and the manliest man of all-time bulleted it in without mercy. Beautiful celebration, beautiful goal, beautiful hair. Then some more frenetic attacks from both sides, and Messi then scored the 3rd and a wave of relief rushed over me.

The second half was much more calm, we controlled the match, Xavi and Pique were superb, and it was an amazing feeling: as if God himself patted you on the back and told you that everything will be ok. You know deep inside that it won't be, that your days are limited, but at that precise moment it doesn't matter; what matters is that a ball and 11 heroes have given you that most precious of human elements, hope.

After that, I ate some bread, read some Bolano, went outside onto the porch, fell asleep, woke up with a smile on my face, and then realized that this euphoria was going to end soon, and I had to return to my non-existence. I fell asleep on the couch, and dreamed about Barca, about Barcoslav, and the blond girl.
 

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Great idea. We should sticky this thread for some time.
Here's my story.


This Saturday, May 2nd 2009, I woke up at 5 PM. This is no joke. I am a student and I used to work nightshifts (up to 5 nights a week) the year before, so my circadian rhythm resembles pretty much that of a bat. Anyway, on this particular day I was not unhappy about it. I had done all my coursework for the week and sleeping was the best way to avoid the nervousness in the build-up of this game.

I spent two hours in the bed, absent-mindedly playing FM and reading XT. I messaged some friends to join me for the game. A collegue of mine is from Barcelona and we always use to go to the Pub to watch the important games but he was spending the weekend in Seville, so I had to rally friends for moral support. I promised them they would not be disappointed… and after the game their faces were filled with incredulity, even those who did not care much about football knew they had witnessed something of a greater magnitude than simply a football game.

So I went to the only Irish pub in Utrecht, the place where football happens in this town. I arrived half an hour early and it was crammed. Last time I watched the Clásico here, the Merengue-Culé distribution was pretty much even, this time there was a visible - and audible - majority of Barcelona fans. Of course, much has happened since the Camp Nou game, and Barça's feats have gained them fame in the entire footballing world in the meantime, but there were not mere glory-hunters in there. Utrecht is a big student town, and Spanish students have invaded the European continent in the last years, so there were many Spanish and Catalans present. Then, of course, there were some die-hard Dutch Barcelona fans, everyone knows about the big Holland (Ajax especially) - FC Barcelona tradition. There were many dutchies singing the anthem along with the Catalans. Sadly, though, many of the Dutch supporters seem to be spineless dicks and support whichever team fielding at least one Dutchy (or having them as coaches). Those nationalist dumbheads who seem to find glee in disappointing the other's truly felt passion (what us almost-krauts would call 'schadenfreude' in its purest form) and therefore came to the game in good mood, seeing as they were the very same fanboys who cheered for the great tactical mastermind Hiddink last Wednesday. They joined and probably embarassed the remaining true Madridistas (who I observed wore almost the same uniform, gelled hair, collar-up, you know the type).

My friends came late, got stuck in the doorway and had to watch the first half from there, while I was standing in the darkest corner of the room, leaning against the back of the chair. I was confident but the closer the kick-off came the more nervous I got. I guess you know the feeling yourselves, I was imagining how beautiful a win here would be, picturing myself a Bernabeu giving standing ovations to Messi, but there was literally this voice in the back of my head, but louder than all the noise in the pub asking: 'But what if we lose?'

Kick-off, Madrid losing the ball instantly, and I exhaled. The following minutes I was getting more and more confident, but similarly to what some of you said, worried about Abidal getting skinned by Robben. We had our couple of first chances, I was getting more and more confident. Higuain's goal hit me out of the blue. That had not been in my game plan. So this Higuain fella isn't such a shabby player after all, huh?
While the Madridistas cheered (you could see how much they had believed in it), I pushed away all my dreams and started being pragmatic (or desperate, however you would call it). A draw is all we need, we had our chances already, we will score one eventually. As long as we keep them down to one. Henry has the ball, passes to Xavi and starts sprinting past Ramos. I remember thinking 'why does he make that run, he won't get the ball here'. The rest is history. I remember the place exploding, 'Antimadridista'- and FC Barcelona scarves being held in the air. We had our point, Casillas had his usual look and Madrid had to start all over again. Henry rapes Ramos once again, foul, the free-kick and Puyol's hair. I jumped on the chair I had leaned on, shouting 'Puyol', as did 70% of the pub. His celebration lead to 'Visca el Barça y visca Catalunya' chants. By that moment, everyone knew we were going to win this, and there was the sense of a historic moment in the air.

The game kept on, Barça rolling one attack after the other, but I was not disappointed by the wasted chances. I knew more goals would follow. Xavi nicks the ball off Lass, I think 'great tactics, Pep', and Messi does it Messi style. This time the cheers are not as hateful, revengeful anymore, they are becoming joyful. The six minutes from the third goal till the half-time break, Madrid is touching the ball less than ten times. It reminds me of the end of the 2006 CL final. In the pub, waves of 'Olé' are going along with the pass orgy on the field. Barça are showing their superiority to the world.

In the break, I meet my friends, receiving texts congratulating me for our team. We spend the second half in the backroom sitting on the pool table. When Ramos heads the free-kick, there is a moment of silence, only interrupted by a 'Shit' coming from me. Someone writes me a text saying basically the same, and while I type the response, I hear cheers and look up just to see the image of a ball rolling into an empty net. I praise the lord for giving us Henry and jump around in the room, hugging everyone I talked to and who supports Barcelona. The league is ours, now let's go for the humiliation. I want Pep to give me five, like Cruyff did.
The rest of the game is pretty much a blur (I did not drink alcohol). I remember that Messi scored a goal, that we had this great move where Messi missed after Iniesta's pass and I remember everyone staring at each other in disbelief.
I remember Piqué strolling forward and finishing his own move with perhaps the best goal at the evening. Pure skill. I remember Bojan coming on and Messi missing it. And Peps smile I will never forget.

After the match, I went to a friend's who lives close by the Pub to go straight to the interwebs, reading every word written about this game. People were talking to me and I think I managed to make them believe I was participating in the conversation but my mind was obsessed with these 91 minutes and everything they implied. As a matter of fact, it still is.
 

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Some great stories so far.

Keep it going.

:)
 

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My story was that I went to sleep super early (11pm), set the alarm for 3:30am, woke up, made some tea, ate some bread with a delicious camerbert and watched the game at 4am. I had planned to watch it at a football pub, but it was too cold and I couldn't be bothered driving.
 

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Since most of you have Saturdays off and rolled around in bed until later hours in the afternoon I was already up by 9 AM because I had to go to work. As soon as I woke up I realized that finally the big day has come and we will be able to put an end to all this talk from Madridistas about how we do not have the cojones to win La Liga this year and were under a lot of pressure. I head down to have breakfast and the entire family was in a debate about who is going to beat who this time, my mom supports Barca and my older and younger brothers as well as my dad support Madrid. They kept badgering me and harrowing me about how royal Madrid is and how great they are and we will not stand a chance.

I get to work, and trust me when I tell you that I spent the entire time just checking the forum and news updates about the big game. I mean I was translating Chinese links FGS, I was nervous because I always knew in the back of my mind that form does not play a big part in the Classico, but I tried to remain calm but every time I remember Pepe and Marcelo I would pray to god (not in the bathroom VBI, when you have the time and your thoughts are not on Far Cry 2 :D) that we rape them and put them where they belong.

I grab lunch, and the same old story keeps coming up so I was like enough with all this talk already and let's just wait until after the game. So more time slowly passes by and every single second felt like a year, the big game has finally arrived and I could not have been more excited. I went to watch the game with a fellow cule in a coffee shop we have been watching Barca games the entire season, what you really have to know guys is that in those places if anyone is there and they do not support Barcelona or Madrid have to throw a couple of idiotic comments here and there, such as: Valdes is horrible GK, he is a statue, Madrid will win the league, the rebirth of RM and more comments that only 5 years old will throw at you. No matter what you try to do to calm yourself down, you will be angered by such comments no matter what.

The ref blows his whistle and the game just started, and what an awful beginning it was for us after conceding the 1st goal and no one was around to mark Higuian, the place went wild and everyone was so happy that we were losing. I am was fuming after watching the team not dominate and control the tempo of the game, 6 minutes later and revenge was served on a very cold dish. I went jumping all around the place to a point that I was asked to be seated by my friend :). The end of the 1st half meant that by then all of them had to just shut up and give the exact same look Casillas does as soon as his defence messes up.

When Ramos equalized my heart started pounding and I thought that please god if there is any justice left in this world do not let those idiots get an undeserved draw or a comeback out of the blue and I was rewarded with an Henry goal that was a dagger in Madrid player's hearts because that proved that every time they tried to catch up with us we were 2 levels ahead of them already. Messi's goal made me think that this was the final nail in the coffin, but the cherry cherry on top of the cream was Pique's goal. He promised and delivered on such an eventful evening, I mean the guy needs to be rewarded for such an effort. He started the play from all the way from the back, and made sure that it was in the back of the net after Casillas saved it the 1st time. The ambiance in the coffee shop was insanity of the 1st order and Madridistas being taunted and walking back home with their tails between their legs. The funny thing during that game was after Barca scored the 6th goal, the commentator of Al Jazeera sport said that RM fans need to switch of their mobile phones tonight :D.

When the game ended, I couldn't go to sleep that night. Even after finally managing to go to sleep at 4 in the morning, I woke up with the biggest smile on my face and my brothers and my dad were no where to be seen. I mean they got up so early and took showers and left off to work so early not have to deal with me. :D

Thank you so much Barcelona, you have made my day. The best team on planet earth and anyone who does not see that our style of football is mesmerizing and captivating, they really have to get checked.

Visca el Barca y Visca Catalunya!
 

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In Pep, We Trust!
Joined
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6,149 Posts
K4 - How can you be interrupted so much during the big game to get up 3 times and get BEER! :D, I couldn't rotate my face away from the angle I set my neck on to stare at the TV even if my car was set on fire. :D

BK - Great story buddy, nothing is better than rubbing it in your relatives face who support the dark side.

Zyad - Cute kid, 2alah iykhalelak iyah, yetrabah be3ezak. I am curious now, what was his first word? Barssa? :D if he did that I am willing to trade my soon to come kid with yours if he turns out to be a flop and the first word coming out of his mouth is daa daa.

Kopriva - Man you should have made Eto'o and Puyol happy by doing the right thing, they wouldn't have liked you to just stare at each other and fall asleep! :D

VBI - The pimp sure knows how to keep himself composed and his nerves are in order, can't believe that you managed to waste the entire time by playing video games. I mean for me it was horrible, anything I did I would just remember the game instantly and lose focus on anything I was trying to do.

Boludo Perdido - Son of a peach! I didn't know that you are another big fan of the same kind of music I like, many fellow cules are not into that kind of music. You must have been sleep deprived and dehydrated :D. Who is your favorite music producer?
 

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Third Place Winner, December 2011 Photo Contest
Joined
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10,905 Posts
VBI - Don't you get bored driving around in that game. Once night dawns its impossible to drive. I have never reached a destination on first attempt. Also , why do you keep going to the toilet to talk to god?
 

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In Pep, We Trust!
Joined
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6,149 Posts
Woah, Woah, Woah.


WASTE? Dude, I got like 80 achievement points! I consider that a good day's work. :D
HAHAHA, phew that must have been hard to achieve! Love your signature by the way! :howler:
 
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