Hansi Flick went on vacation describing the desire that would define the summer: to fill the place left by Robert Lewandowski, he wanted a new striker, with associative ability and who could score goals. The letter to the Three Wise Men was no secret, and the card of Julián Álvarez was everywhere. Even at the traditional Christmas dinner that Barça organizes every year with the press, the name of the Argentine forward had already been the main protagonist of the conversations before the toasts with president Joan Laporta. The highest manager found him expensive and, during the electoral campaign, said he wanted to extend the Pole's contract for one more season, an idea that Deco never valued. The priority was Julián. What we didn't expect was that Barça would start the League without having resolved the issue and having also parted ways with Ferran Torres.

We are about to open the cookie jar and have Ferran Torres appear, talking to us about his navel. Never before had a goal in a World Cup final been managed with such arrogance. The celebration was already a declaration of intent: instead of making an unforgettable dedication like Andrés Iniesta's in 2010, he showed off his bitterness by remembering the haters. What a shame. Football-wise there would never be any possible discussion, but it's clear that as a person either, Ferran Torres doesn't even reach the sole of Fuentealbilla's hero's shoe. He and his inner circle had been angry for months with Barça and its media environment for having undervalued him by putting him on the transfer list, but whoever has ended up putting him in the shop window has been his own ego with statements that have offended the coldest Culer. Paris, here we go! 

The market hasn't officially kicked off yet, but we've already seen the first summer trend: footballers who one day dreamed of playing for Barça and the next day sign for Real Madrid. Yes, José Mourinho, the antichrist of the pointed finger and insatiable provocations, is capable of convincing children forged in the Barça academy or Portuguese players perfected under the tutelage of Pep Guardiola without any resistance. With his rhetoric and, above all, with a good bag of money from the wounded Florentino Pérez, he works magic with a single call. Between the persistent little song of Bernardo Silva or the return of Marc Cucurella, however, what will hurt Barça the most will be seeing the full-back from Alella dressed in white. It's easy to ask yourself: “How did we let this happen?” The answer is simple: neither now nor ever has he felt that Barça truly wanted him.

Informatively, the interest in Real Madrid's elections is unquestionable, but the level of the two presidential candidates demonstrates that the type of leadership in the world of football – there and here – is very low. They are privileged gentlemen with an outsized ego who confuse the part with the whole. In short, toxic masculinities with different styles, but with the same essence. For now, the one who has already won the white elections by sheer patheticness is a Florentino Pérez who has become an erratic being who rambles on repeating battles from 25 years ago, whatever the format: press conference or a massage-interview with friends like Iker Jiménez. It's easy to imagine a maid from an ex-colony cutting the hake into very small pieces so as not to choke. The opponent, however, is no anti-dandruff shampoo: Enrique Riquelme is the same old song, but further from the nursing home.

Despite Joan Laporta's electoral theatrics, everyone at Barça knew Robert Lewandowski's days were numbered. He never received a formal offer with concrete figures for renewal: since he was neither sportingly nor economically of interest, the club had been planning the future without him for months. A logical decision by Deco: it's time to rebuild the attack. Although the nuances of the story don't deceive, the Pole's farewell has been hygienic, a story of an unblemished record, and fitting for the star who decides when he wants to leave. It's healthy that there were no recriminations, only tears of emotion and gratitude. The 2022 bet has yielded four good seasons: especially the first with Xavi and the first with Hansi Flick. There was no need to drag it out or agonize. All parties have handled it well. All parties have handled it well.

Hansi Flick's manual not only aligns with Johan Cruyff's pragmatic ideology of 'I'd rather win 5-4 than 1-0', but it has also delivered titles to legitimize a philosophy that always clashes with the conservative tribuneism of our country, or with lovers of defensive calculation everywhere. In this endemic political clash, the side of the good, which includes those who prefer artistic enjoyment over tactics, has signed a cultural vindication with the spectacle between PSG and Bayern in the first leg of the Champions League semi-finals. Seeing the admiration the match has caused, I imagine Flick must have let out an ironic smile remembering how experts Thierry Henry or Ruud Gullit had called his offensive gamble kamikaze with sentences like 'you can't win the Champions League playing like this'.

Hansi Flick's manual not only aligns with Johan Cruyff's pragmatic ideal of “I’d rather win 5-4 than 1-0”, but it has also delivered titles to legitimize a philosophy that always clashes with the conservative armchair punditry of our house, or with lovers of defensive calculation everywhere. In this endemic political clash, the camp of the good guys, which includes those who prefer artistic enjoyment to tactical grids, has ratified a cultural vindication with the spectacle put on by PSG and Bayern in the first leg of the Champions League semi-finals. Seeing the admiration the match has generated, I imagine Flick must have let out an ironic smile, recalling how experts like Thierry Henry or Ruud Gullit had branded his offensive approach as kamikaze with pronouncements like “you can’t win the Champions League playing like that”.

The permission that Barça has given Raphinha to disconnect in Porto Alegre after getting injured with the canarinha is surprising because it deviates from the usual script. Although it is easy to empathize with the boy's emotional setback, it is very jarring that a player who has repeatedly torn his hamstring starts his recovery far from the Sports City. Especially if we consider that the medical services of the club that pays him have not yet been able to examine him.

The meme of Joan Laporta dancing has already become part of popular culture. His euphoria is contagious: everything is excitement, optimism, chants borrowed from the supporters' section, macaroni and cava foam swirling at Luz de Gas. Who wouldn't want life to be like this every day? Who's the sourpuss who would choose not to have a good time? Pure hedonism, topped off with a 7-2 victory that catapulted them into the Champions League quarterfinals. "The best years of our lives" are here, and the Barcelona fans—or the 42% who voted—have overwhelmingly chosen this magnetic, fun, charismatic, and approachable man to continue pulling the club out of the hole dug by Josep Maria Bartomeu. This blank check confirms that Barça and Laporta are one and the same. "I am the state," said the absolutist French king Louis XIV. Exactly.

The bet on Hansi Flick is Joan Laporta's best government achievement. The sentiment is unanimous. The candidate clings to the charismatic, confident, and intelligent figure of the coach, behind which the management errors that have hampered the club's escape from the financial abyss it fell into due to the pandemic and Josep Maria Bartomeu can easily be hidden. Plato's allegory of the cave is very much alive, and the smile and blue eyes of the man from Heidelberg are the backdrop for this campaign. Flick is squeezing the maximum out of a squad limited by the inability to make big signings, while being forced to coexist in decision-making with... an actor without a defined role: Alejandro Echevarría. The summer of 2024 accepted the rules of the game with pleasure, but from sharpening it so much, soon there will be no pencil left.

In a matter of days, Barça has lost oxen and cowbells. The defeats at the Metropolitano and Montilivi cannot be dismissed as mere minor setbacks, as both send worrying signals with direct consequences for the team's chances of retaining two titles. Hansi Flick had been feeling uneasy for several matches. He quickly detects the mood in the dressing room, and just as he sensed at Stamford Bridge that they were on the verge of turning things around, in recent weeks he had seen that the trend was not what he hoped for. He had emphasized the players' lack of concentration in the first halves, complained about the intensity of their pressing and duels, and also highlighted the difficulty in scoring goals. Flick cannot tolerate a loss of hunger.

Hansi Flick promised Stamford Bridge that we would soon see a better version of Barça and, despite the setbacks, has finished in the Champions League Top 8That tough defeat forced the team to confront the reality of European expectations. It's undeniable that we've seen a Barça on the rise online, but to seriously compete in the most coveted race, they'll have to raise their level considerably. The first to recognize this is the coach, who, after the victory against Copenhagen, admitted that to aspire to the title, "we have to do things much, much better." He had seemed particularly angry about conceding the goal right at the start, after having spent the hours leading up to the match repeating the importance of achieving a "clean sheetThis is the great Achilles' heel of his Barça and, probably, the most obvious obstacle to prevailing when the big stages arrive. Since then, they haven't reached it again. Eleven matches, eight this season and three last, with 24 goals conceded. The calculator says the average is more than two goals per game. The persistent debate that, at the beginning of the season, had arisen around the risks of playing with such an advanced defensive line, with expert voices like Thierry Henry irritating him so much, has been closed. Strong in possession and even more relentless in pressing after losing it. Imaginative, daydreaming, falling madly in love without restraint, enjoying without fear. Why not?

Gil Manzano is the kind of referee whose demeanor speaks for itself: haughty, arrogant, unapproachable, and with a pathological tendency to send off anyone who's been getting on his nerves. If, on top of that, they pair him with Del Cerro Grande in the VAR booth, they have a very promising duo that will test the patience of even the most level-headed player in the dressing room, even if he's as cool as ice and his name is Frenkie de Jong. With the appointment of this star-studded pairing, the Technical Committee of Referees made a clear statement of intent directed at Barça during a very complicated week for Florentino Pérez. Conspiracy theories are generally tiresome, but in this particular case, it's very difficult to believe the choice was a coincidence. The Barça dressing room knew all this when they took to the pitch at Anoeta.

Hansi Flick is a man of his word. At Stamford Bridge, still reeling from the 3-0 defeat, he delivered a positive message to reaffirm confidence in his work: "We'll soon see a different Barça, I can promise you that." And so it was. The victory against Atlético de MadridThe first win against a top team this season is very significant because it reinforces the manager's position and shows the players the way forward. He'd been saying for weeks that by clearing the infirmary of key players, the team's level would rise. From Flick's dejected image after the lackluster victory against Alavés, we went to euphoria in just 72 hours. And who was there to embrace him immediately? Raphinha. His number one ally in pressing, commitment, mentality, and attacking depth. Being able to have him back, along with Pedri's magnificent magic in the starting eleven, means the team suddenly surpasses twenty levels of the video game.

International breaks are a headache that, in a World Cup year, turns into a nightmare. Clubs tremble because they lose control of their players. Everything changes: the routines of physical preparation and training, the management of effort during matches, and much more. And to this disruption, we must add the players' legitimate desire to secure a place in the most prestigious competition. This means they aren't always entirely honest about their feelings or how they should pace themselves on the pitch. They don't want to fall behind in a crucial race: the superstars, to prove they are undisputedly the best; those fighting for a place, to leave no room for doubt. All of this exacerbates the already strained injury lists.

Brain about to explode, aching body, dizziness, and a desperate desire for it to be over. This is what it feels like to have a hangover after a night of excess. Barça's situation isn't quite like Bradley Cooper and his friends meeting Mike Tyson and losing a tooth or two, but it's clear they're now paying the price for the footballing spectacle that was last season. Aside from the disappointment caused by Acerbi in Milan, the 2024-25 season was like an erotic dream: Hansi Flick's team performed beyond expectations and shattered the mold with their daring style. Physically and mentally, they pushed themselves beyond their limits, and now all the problems are surfacing. The decompression is evident, and The physical decline is filling the infirmary. in an alarming way, while officially, at the club, they say they're not worried. Let them fiddle while the water keeps coming in.

It is obvious that this season has not started as Hansi Flick would have liked, beyond the irregular football sensations. We come from a summer full of inconveniences that he has faced with the usual stoic patience: the avoidable war against Ter Stegen, the poor organization of a tour in which he was more important to keep Enric Masip and Albert Luque happy that the proper training of the players, the conflict between Gavi and Fermín, the desire of some detractors (from within the club itself) to get rid of the second, the abrupt departure of a key piece like Iñigo Martínez without the option of a replacement, continue going to the market as the poor cousin of the big players in Europe, register in extremis with the blow of endorsement so that the phantom levers drown the fair play financial or even playing like Johan Cruyff for not having rented Montjuïc with more foresight. Flick's smile is priceless.

When Francesco Acerbi cruelly ended the dream of reaching the Munich final, frustration took hold of Barcelona fans. The opinion also took hold that if Hansi Flick's Barça had made it, they would have had a chance of winning it, no matter how much Luis Enrique's all-powerful PSG faced them. The flavor of last season was special, magical. That's why the procession celebrating the titles had a dreamlike quality, as if a harbinger of what was to come. At the start of Flick's second year, hopes are poured into the Champions League, Because this time it should be. The Catalans finished the season with sky-high self-esteem, a justified credit to the coach and the players who raised the bar beyond their capabilities. And now what they want to know is whether, once and for all, Barça can be crowned the best team in Europe.

Newcastle was everything Hansi Flick had envisioned and the game plan worked out perfectlyThe victory at St. James' Park is important to him because he understands it's a step forward in the maturity required to aspire to everything. The lesson from San Siro isn't just brewing in the locker room, but serves as a starting point for growth and dreaming of the most precious success. That's why it's important to see how players learn to react to difficulties, such as England's goal against them before injury time: this is growing up, and it's what the German is focused on. He's not interested in raising his head because the month of May is now as far away as Jupiter.Step by step", "no excusesand let's be clear. Flick is probably the best coach Barça has had since Pep Guardiola.

Considering that we are part of a sleeping society, it is gratifying to see how there are still people who mobilize for a cause and successfully torpedoes a top-level sporting competition like the Vuelta. Not all is lost. Using critical thinking, protesting, and demonstrating have become concepts vintage, because we have been reduced to what the system wants: to be instruments of consumption of products and ideas at its service. That's why we can sit in a crowded cove while we do scroll between a possible Barça signing, a discounted shirt, and a cadaverous child dying of hunger in the Gaza Strip. Unperturbed, we raised our gaze and asked the couple: "What would you rather eat? Fideuá or paella?" We have the capacity for indignation of a tender Jewish woman.