Half time

Folorunso Fatai Adisa  ·

Inter Milan came out like wounded lions, snarling, hungry, and with no regard for Spanish nobility. At San Siro, beneath the floodlights and weight of expectation, they tore through Barcelona’s dreamy midfield like a storm through silk. Lautaro Martinez, that Argentine assassin, drew first blood in the 21st minute. Cold. Clinical. Catalans stunned.

But it was not over. Not yet. As the first half wound down, a touch in the box, a brush too aggressive, sent VAR into a frenzy. Penalty. Çalhanoğlu stepped up with the swagger of a man born for moments like this. 2-0. Aggregate, 5-3. Just like that, Barcelona’s poetry looked like prose.

Well, what is a Barça match without controversy? A suspected handball waved away, protests drowned in the San Siro roar. A penalty given against them, salt in an open wound. Lamine Yamal tried, weaving and darting, but Inter’s wall stood unmoved. Grit over grace. Passion over possession. Iron over art.

Now, it is do-or-die. Barcelona must summon the ghosts of old; Xavi’s calm, Messi’s magic, Iniesta’s vision or even the deftness of Ronaldinho if they are to rewrite the script. But for now, Inter walks off that pitch with a lion’s grin and a dagger’s gleam. The cathedral of football has spoken. And for Barcelona, they must now chase salvation in 45 minutes or go home disciples of defeat.