Inter Milan Vs Barcelona 2010 UCL.

Narration of one of the greatest match ever played:

The Special One - Jose Mourinho

Oh Boy!

What a feeling!

That man in his navy blue suit must be on top of the world. I mean just loo at him! The way he ran on the pitch. Had held high as his chest was pimped. That ear to ear to smile and eyes... eyes desperately holding onto those tears. Wow! Quite a night!

Wednesday, 28 April 2010.

Beautiful morning in Barcelona. He woke up earlier than usual today and quite frankly he had not slept that well. Tonight was gonna be a big night. So many people to prove. So many mouths to shut.

One mind was thinking about those tactics. Hopefully it all works out according to he plan. The Catalans were feisty in their backyard. He knew it wasn't as easy as it was in Milan.

And then his mind got distracted. That was the happiest day. A week ago he had beaten his opponents at his ground. And that too in quite a fashion. He had the advantage today but he wasn't overconfident.

After breakfast it was a long afternoon. In moments like this everything seems to go slow. Your heart is beating a different rhythm. He was focused though. He just want a bit of luck on his side.

'Really? You want luck?' Someone laughed in his mind. The voice was right. Luck doesn't wins you matches. Your work and passion dose. He again kept waiting for the night to come.

The ride till Camp Nou was fairly short. He was quite. He always is. He was confident. He had to look confident. Players looked up to him. He knew that a shadow of fear on his face would drown his team along with him.

Discussing the game with his assistants, the warm up, the pre-match press conference, the team talk, the speech all went in a flash. He felt like a moment ago he was in a bus and suddenly he is in a dugout and all the players are on the pitch with the anthem going on. 90 thousands of Catalan fans roaring and screaming and chanting their team. That roar was heart crunching.

But tonight was not the night to be crumble under pressure!

Tonight was about him and the bald guy standing to his left, shouting instructions at the men in red and blue. Tonight was about him and those millions of fans sitting in the front of TV, thousands of miles away from here in Milan.

Tonight was about glory!

It whistled at the Nou camp and play went underway. Barcelona started on a high. All they wanted was to score twice without conceding.

First few attacks went in vein from the Catalans. He smiled to himself. Everything was going as planned.

Minute 28'

Barcelona were deep into Inter half. Inter were showing a tactical defensive masterclass. He was looking at Lucio as he was his own son battling in the battlefield.

Proud!

Until it happened.

Thiago Motta, in a hustle with Busquets. Waved his hand against Busi which brused against his chin and a part of cheek. Busquest crashed to the ground holding his face

Referee whistled.

Oh! The drama!

Referee ran over to the (crash) site. He reached out of his pocket.

The colour was red!

UEFA Champions League semi-final. 2nd leg. Inter ahead 3-1 on aggregate. 28 minute into the match and Inter were down a man.

Cameras went to him. He did not even flinch a muscle. He quietly walked towards the Barca boss and said to him- "You may think it's over. It's not. It's far from over."

Why did he say that? It looked like a tease to the opponent. But truth was he said it to assure himself. He said it to give himself the confidence. He walked back to his position. Players were still begging the ref to reverse the decision. But what's done was done.

One might think this would lead to a massacre of a team. 10 men. Defending against a treble winning squad. At their home ground. But what followed was a work of a magnificently beautiful display of a world-class manager.

We've seen what's team work. We've seen teams playing with chemistry and combination. But the way Inter played that match. They were not down by a man.

They were down to one man!

Have you ever seen a team play as one? Defend as one? And that too with all their heart and energy. Their passion. Their commitment. Putting the best attack at bay was not a joke.

But did he believed.

So did those 10 others.

And so did the millions out there.

It felt like a virtual wall between the Barcelona attack and the goal. Their keeper felt like he had a dozen hands and he dived like he had springs in his bones. Their defenders looked twice the size. And their defense felt like a team of 100 wouldn't go past them.

They kept attacking. Wave after wave. Shot after shot. Inter were fighting tooth and nail. They were giving their everything. Fans in the stands were anxious. They were speechless to see their team fail to score against 10 men.

Look at him. Standing their quietly. Hardly nervous. Nobody expected him to get here. But there he was. Against the best in the world. Keeping the face straight. Assuring those 10 men to hold on just a little longer.

So many people to prove.

So many mouths to shut.

84th minute. Finally they broke him. Gerard Pique, the young defender scored past Julio. 6 minutes of normal time and injury time. 1 goal needed. Can they hold it?

Those 90 thousand fans did not reach his ears. Their chants were inaudible to him. He was counting the seconds. Each second. He was numb. His team was still fighting. Still bleeding on the battlefield. He was so, so proud of his boys. He keep shouting-

'Just a bit longer'

Barcelona kept attacking. They were in full swing. Inter were still solid. Is this for real? Have these 10 men really nullified the best team? Is it gonna happen?

Peep! Peep! Peeeeep!

There he went. Off running on to the pitch. He had never heard a more beautiful sound than that of the whistle. Running on the Camp Nou pitch. Hand held high. Chest pumped.

Oh Boy!

What a feeling!

(On 28th April 2010, Inter beat Barca in Champions League semi-finals on 3-2 aggregate. The 1-0 loss at Camp Nou was the 'sweetest defeat of his career' said the Portuguese manager who went on winning the treble.)