Chapter 83: The Dominant Barcelona

Although Zhiwei Dai’s thunderous strike had blasted Barcelona’s goalkeeper off the field, forcing Enrique into an early substitution that disrupted his pre-game strategy, the subsequent flow of the match remained firmly in the hands of the visiting Barcelona side.

Barcelona adopted a strategy of possession and suppression on the road. Their first shot came in the ninth minute: Messi sent a direct pass down the right, and Suárez’s powerful drive from twelve yards on the right of the box ricocheted off Asenjo and deflected wide at the near post.

Villarreal barely had time to mount an effective attack before Barcelona surged forward again. Messi, after carrying the ball through midfield and glancing up to survey the situation ahead, suddenly released a precision through ball, threading it perfectly between Bruno and Bailly.

Indeed, apart from being an unparalleled goal scorer, Messi’s ability to drop into midfield is also world-class.

Suárez, thoroughly in sync with Messi, broke away from his marker and latched onto the unexpected pass with a sudden forward burst.

The Uruguayan striker wasted no time, swinging his leg in a furious shot reminiscent of Zhiwei Dai’s earlier effort that had felled Bravo. Yet once again, his effort was parried away by Asenjo’s outstretched palms.

Despite Marcelino’s meticulous pre-match analysis and preparation for Barcelona’s attack, the Catalans’ onslaught was relentless, exposing defensive gaps time and again on both flanks of Villarreal’s back line.

Bruno, the defensive midfielder, was constantly shuttling back to cover the fullbacks. During one tracking run, the Yellow Submarine’s captain finally succumbed to fatigue. Attempting a sliding tackle on Neymar, his form faltered, and he brought down the Brazilian, earning a yellow card without question.

“Wow! Is that the legendary ‘Eighteen Drops of a Brushed Sleeve’? Amazing!” Zhiwei Dai exclaimed sarcastically.

While Bruno’s tackle was indeed a textbook foul, and he did make contact with Neymar, the Brazilian’s subsequent performance—rolling five times across the turf—made it look as if he’d been hit by a car.

In Zhiwei Dai’s eyes, for all Neymar’s footballing brilliance, he was nothing more than a clown on the pitch.

Villarreal’s goalmouth endured several more scares. If not for his awareness of his team’s porous defense, Zhiwei Dai would have considered dropping back to help out himself.

But his anxiety stemmed from another source: while he and his side were ineffective, Barcelona’s MSN trio shone with blinding brilliance, leaving him utterly eclipsed—buried so deeply in the dirt he could not even be seen.

Especially galling was the sight of Neymar, whom Zhiwei Dai deeply scorned, breaking through the heart of Villarreal’s defense yet again. This time, Ruiz, the defensive lynchpin, resorted to tugging him down. Yet, to everyone’s surprise, the referee waved play on.

Evidently, La Liga referees were equally exasperated by Neymar’s penchant for theatrics.

Ruiz’s relief was short-lived. Barely a minute later, a misplaced backpass from Trigueros allowed Neymar to dart into the box and fashion another shooting chance in front of Ruiz. Fortunately, Asenjo intervened in time, but Ruiz, the team’s stalwart, was left red-faced.

“Hey! Keep track of your man!” Asenjo, back on his feet after the save, roared at his defenders. “No more loose marking, understood?”

Asenjo’s shout made Ruiz glare at Neymar with even greater animosity.

“Say what you will about his character, Neymar’s talent is undeniable! If he could focus all his attention on football itself, he’d be a lock for the third-best player in the world—and might even challenge the aging Messi and Ronaldo one day!”

As Zhiwei Dai’s thoughts drifted, Barcelona intercepted another Villarreal pass in midfield and launched a lightning counterattack. Bailly, having just pushed forward to support the attack, was helplessly stranded out of position. Without hesitation, the young defender slid in from the side and brought down Busquets, earning a yellow card.

After felling Busquets, Bailly wasted no time—he scrambled to his feet and sprinted back toward his own box, worried Barcelona would take the free kick quickly.

His instincts were correct: Barcelona did just that. Messi swung in a cross from the right, and Bailly was still scrambling to recover.

Ruiz, trying to cover for his partner, was caught out of position, leaving a man unmarked in the box. Rakitic, unchallenged, met the ball with a header toward the far corner as Asenjo rushed out to challenge.

Thankfully, Bailly arrived just in time, clearing the relatively tame header off the line.

A close call!

“Damn, this full-strength Barcelona is a world apart from the depleted team at the Club World Cup!” Zhiwei Dai recalled their semi-final encounter.

By comparison, this Villarreal side was far stronger than Guangzhou Evergrande had been, but so too was this Barcelona superior to its Club World Cup incarnation.

So it was no surprise that Barcelona had crushed Evergrande then, and now they were dominating Villarreal as well.

“Sigh, why does it feel like, no matter where I go, I’m always fated to be throttled by Barça?” Zhiwei Dai found himself dropping back into his own half.

Barcelona continued their intricate passing up front, but Busquets misplayed a pass across midfield. Castillejo seized the opportunity, threading the ball forward just as Zhiwei Dai, previously a spectator closest to the action, made a rapid run upfield.

But Piqué, sticking close by his side, lunged in with a sliding tackle, taking both man and ball. The referee immediately awarded a free kick to Zhiwei Dai.

Unfortunately, this attack came to nothing—Villarreal couldn’t even muster a shot on goal. Mario’s two consecutive crosses were both cleared by the opposition.

Zhiwei Dai could only shake his head in regret. Unlike the Club World Cup, where he’d been given space, here Barcelona’s defenders had devised specific tactics to neutralize him, leaving him with little room to operate.

Still, from another perspective, the fact that Barcelona tailored their game plan around him was something to be proud of.

In the 36th minute, Neymar broke through on the left and crossed. Suárez darted in at the center and stabbed a shot from three yards out, but Asenjo parried it. Messi followed up, slotting the rebound into the empty net. However, the assistant referee’s flag was raised—the goal was disallowed for offside against Suárez.

As Barcelona’s forwards surrounded the referee in protest, Asenjo quickly restarted play with a free kick. Castillejo, with Zhiwei Dai and Soldado both surging into position, unleashed a powerful drive from the edge of the box. Ter Stegen leapt and brushed the ball behind for a corner with his fingertips—Villarreal’s best chance of the game so far.

But for Villarreal, it was only a chance. Barcelona, by contrast, turned their opening into a goal: Messi, receiving a pass from Busquets at the edge of the area, struck from the right side of the box to break the deadlock.

“That’s Messi for you!” Zhiwei Dai watched the Argentine, his face adorned with a serene smile as he celebrated, a complicated look flickering in his own eyes.

Unlike the dazzling Neymar or the imposing Suárez, Messi’s presence on the pitch was, at first glance, entirely unremarkable. If Zhiwei Dai had to describe what set Messi apart, it was his effortless mastery—from dribbling to shooting, everything seemed so natural.

What appeared insurmountable for others was routine for Messi.

“There’s a kind of return to simplicity,” Zhiwei Dai clicked his tongue. “But, young man, you’re still a step behind Tsubasa Oozora!”

“At least he doesn’t bend it like that, does he?”

The first half ended with Villarreal looking nothing like a side bound for Europe—they were completely on the back foot, and 0–1 was already a lucky scoreline.

After the break, following Marcelino’s halftime talk and tactical adjustments, Villarreal showed slight improvement. Still, the visitors from Catalonia continued to control the match at El Madrigal.

Early in the second half, Messi tore down the wing and crossed. Ruiz failed to intercept at the edge of the box, and Suárez beat the offside trap, shaking off his marker for a one-on-one with the keeper.

Suárez volleyed toward the near post, but Asenjo—seemingly possessed by some guardian spirit—flung himself to tip the ball away at point-blank range. Even more maddening for Barcelona’s supporters, Asenjo immediately sprang up and gathered the ball into his arms, giving Suárez no chance for a rebound.

The Spanish keeper’s miraculous save drew thunderous applause and cheers from the sea of yellow at El Madrigal.

Barely ten minutes into the half, Marcelino was already restless. When Bruno was booked for a foul on Turan, he didn’t hesitate to bring Pina on for Trigueros.

Yet even after Pina’s introduction, Villarreal struggled to improve their attacking play, unable to capitalize on home advantage.

The home side’s penalty area was under constant threat—

In the 58th minute, Rakitic set up Neymar, who cut inside and drove a long-range shot just wide.

A minute later, Ruiz was booked for a foul on Turan in his own half. Messi’s free kick from thirty yards was comfortably held by Asenjo.

At this point, Zhiwei Dai was not only struggling to make an impact—he was barely seen on the broadcast at all.

“It’s a bit embarrassing,” he muttered, scratching his cheek in contemplation.