Miguel L. Pereira can be found on social media here, and if you’re hungry for more, Miguel has also written a book delving into the heights and depths of Spanish football, and all it’s cultural and social layers. Find out more about it here.

It is always more about thirst than anything else. You can be the best side in the world, play most exquisitely, but if your heart is not in it, then things probably won’t go your way. The greatest thing about football is that a sport that is played in the mind and executed with the foot, but whose soul is in the heart. You need to really want it if you’re ever going to get it, and for what was essentially a decaf El Clasico, some wanted it much more than others. And that was about it. Not about the quality of gameplay, the individual brilliance, or the tactical masterminds behind it. It was pure hunger.

No Clasico begins at kick-off. There is always something smirking in the background for the previous days before a ball is even kicked. In a nation that lives football twenty-four-seven, we can even say that the duels between Barcelona and Real Madrid start the moment the previous match finishes. That was pretty much the case with this one. Last season Barcelona played spectacularly well, were absolutely dominant, had the best individual performances and, above all else, had a teenage thirst for life that drove them to a remarkable season. They weren’t just very good; they wanted to feel what very good tasted like. And they had a feast.

When the previous El Clasico ended, it became clear that the best side won, but also that the side that wanted to win more than anything else did. Real Madrid players may have taken notice. They always do. It is a funny thing, the Clasicos. To be at your very best is never enough. You need to want to beat the other guy, sometimes even to humiliate them. Not just for the three points, but to prove a point. A single point that says I’m much better than you. If you throw spice into the pot, well, it only helps. Lamine Yamal did it innocently. Not because he behaves like an infant, but because he hasn’t yet learned yet that football is a game of emotions, and you don’t want to provoke your opponent, whose pride is already hurt.

Sun Tzu famously said that, if you want to beat someone, never leave them without an option to run, because then he will fight for his life instead of surrendering or fleeing. Lamine Yamal probably believes Tzu is just another King’s League player, and who can blame him? You cannot fall in love with a street-smart player and then expect him to know ancient philosophy. He acts like an 18-year-old millionaire the same way Vinicius, who hasn’t been 18 years old for a while now, does.

The two kids, at least mentally, were the big attraction before the match and ended up being the news after the match, but during it, they were mostly left out of the grown-ups’ table, and the quality of the football displayed suffered in consequence. There was never a hint that Lamine would do the things Lamine does, and Vinicius always looked more concerned with checking all the possible TV camera angles available, than actually playing the game

It was probably perhaps for the best, as Real Madrid had already found the highway to success, that connection between Jude Bellingham and Kylian Mbappe, that has everything in favour to be a success whenever opponents are willing to forego a low block. Running back and forth, putting through balls into space, and looking like he owns the place is what Jude does best, while Mbappe enjoys having that extra mile to run before smashing the ball into the net.

🥳 ¡La ALEGRÍA de los JUGADORES del MADRID tras EL CLÁSICO!

‼️ 'Bailalo Rocky' , la canción que suena de fondo en el vestuario, ¿indirecta a Lamine?

Vía Youtube 'Real Madrid'.

— El Chiringuito TV (@elchiringuitotv) October 27, 2025

The latter scored a brilliant goal, curiously disallowed, netted a trademark cross shot, and missed a penalty just to check if everyone was still awake. The numbers were there, but his impact far surpasses what he does during the rest of the match, with no combinations or creative passes to his name for the whole time he was on the pitch.

Still, that impact was far better than what was happening at the other end. Missing Raphinha and Robert Lewandowski was always going to be a problem, particularly for a side that can’t count on a Lamine Yamal at his very best. Neither Marcus Rashford, cutting in from the left, nor Ferran Torres, who was swallowed by Real Madrid’s defence in the early stages and spat out in the end in time to get back on the bus home, were ever a threat. Only Fermin Lopez, a straight shooter if Barcelona ever had one, who mustered some sort of danger, but he, too, did not always take the best decision available and probably, because of it, Barcelona left the Bernabeu wondering if they need to be more clinical, more hungry, to get the ball in the net. 

Perhaps what best defined the tie was the duel between Pedri and Aurelien Tchouameni. The Canarian wonderboy, who is, alongside Vitinha, the best midfielder in the world by a mile, never had the ball on his feet the way he should have had, particularly when Madrid presented a low block and invited Barcelona into their home politely. The game needed Pedri to ask for the ball and coordinate every single move, but no one was cutting inside like crazy, and none of his midfield teammates seemed bothered to drive the game forward.

They were tired, not necessarily physically but in their hearts and minds. Tchouameni, on the contrary, chastised last year for being unable to play well with the ball on his feat, had a feast by playing without it most of the time, doing what he does best. Cover, defend, positioning himself in harm’s way, offering a stellar performance like Chamartin hadn’t seen from a holding midfielder since Casemiro’s golden years. He bossed a midfield where none of his teammates played at his level – Guler was a disappointment and nobody really understands what Camaving does when he is on the pitch – but even playing almost solo, it proved to be enough.

Against a thirstier side that will not be the case, but Barcelona seemed so satisfied with last year’s results that they perhaps believed in their subconscious that winning was a given. It never is. Pep Guardiola, who knows one thing or two about football, always stressed that his players need to run more without the ball because they can’t dominate games if they don’t have it, and that was exactly what Flick did last season.

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐝 𝟐-𝟏 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐚

Barcelona fail to make it five successive Clásico victories as Bellingham and Mbappé inspire Madrid to victory, extending their lead to five points.

That's nine home league wins in a row for the first time since 2015 for Madrid.

— Opta Analyst (@OptaAnalyst) October 26, 2025

This year, not so much. Barcelona spend too many minutes chasing shadows but without committing to catching them, and that is usually enough to beat them. They can be brilliant when uniting quality play and will to win, but if any of those go missing, they end up being just another side. Madrid, on the contrary, had developed over the years an ability to perform with or without the ball in the same way. They just need sometimes to be awakened from their autumn siestas, as the club usually comes alive when European knock-out football is at its most exciting hour. Lamine Yamal and memories of last season were enough to awaken them at the right time before they went to sleep again.  

Perhaps, if one day Florentino Perez remembers where he left the key that opens up the Bernabeu ceiling, the beautiful Madrid sun wakes them up altogether. In a sauna, with no sunlight, the best thing people can hope for is a minimum wage style of football, and that, in October, fits Xabi Alonso’s Real Madrid much more than anyone else. Not even Bellingham seemed spurred on enough to run and open his arms to the adoring crowd. Perhaps he’s just waiting for that radiant light to pop by in a few months’ time.