Rashford seals title for Barcelona and completes week to forget for Real Madrid

This time it was Marcus Rashford who delivered the knockout blow. Three days after the fight between Fede Valverde and Aurélien Tchouaméni that ended with Real Madrid’s vice-captain taken to hospital and the crisis at the club laid bare for all to see, they went to the Camp Nou and finally, definitively relinquished a league they had lost long ago. For the first time in 94 years a clásico decided the title, 62,000 fans starting the party as goals from the Englishman and Ferran Torres took Hansi Flick’s team over the line with three games to spare.

If, that is, decided is the word. For Madrid, at least it is over now. They had avoided it ending last week by beating Espanyol, just across the city limits, sparing themselves from having to give their rivals a guard of honour before this game but they knew they could not avoid it for ever: their aspiration was limited to stopping Barcelona celebrating in their presence. But, like so much else this campaign, that was beyond them, and so a second successive season closes without a trophy, and on the worst possible stage.

Or the best, from Barcelona’s point of view. Back at the Camp Nou, this was a first title here for 11 of their players and for their coach Flick, whose father had passed away in the morning, who has brought so much fun to this club, and who now stood, gazing up as fireworks lit the sky. “I will never forget this day; I am proud to have such a team,” he said. That team had taken the lead on nine minutes and never looked back.

“La Liga champion, that sounds good,” Rashford said, as the pitch filled with family and friends. His future is undecided, and at full time he avoided Torres’s calls for him to continue: for now, he insisted, he just wanted to live the moment. If this is to be just a one-year loan, what a way to sign off: with a clásico goal to win the championship. And what a goal it was, too.

From the right edge of the Madrid area, Rashford stood over the ball. At first he had not intended to shoot but his teammates were adamant that he should. Before him, four men in the wall, another lying on the turf behind. Beyond them, the best goalkeeper in the world. None of them could stop him, a superb free-kick flying in a long arc into the far corner, the Englishman raced towards the bench in celebration. It was his 14th goal of the season; there have been 14 assists too.

Speaking of assists, the one Dani Olmo provided for Barcelona to double their lead 10 minutes later was gorgeous. Leaping to connect with Fermín López’s clipped delivery into the Madrid box, he guided it, on the volley, through his legs to Torres. Alone near the penalty spot, Torres controlled and smashed past Thibaut Courtois. The place went wild, smelling blood.

While this looked like it might get ugly for Madrid – if no more ugly than their week had already been – they did react, did compete. Gonzalo García should have pulled one back when a Raúl Asencio ball behind Pau Cubarsí set him clean through only for the shot to slip wide.

Pedri appealed for control and then provided it. A sharp turn saw Torres drop deep and release Rashford up the right, and when he is released no one can catch him – including his teammates. The fastest player in La Liga raced clear and while he could have laid it across to López, his teammate still hadn’t quite arrived into position, so Rashford struck hard, low and just beyond the far post. Courtois’ touch had been decisive and from the corner, Olmo sliced wide.

The second half brought an early confrontation when Olmo pushed over Asencio, and the players piled in, Tchouaméni hanging back. Then a Trent Alexander-Arnold ball found Jude Bellingham who was laid out by Eric García’s elbow. Next there were words between Gavi and Bellingham. This was still a game. Torres might have made it 3-0 only for Courtois to stretch out a foot and Bellingham scored just after the hour, but the flag was up. Almost immediately, Cubarsí allowed Vinícius Júnior in. The Brazilian, though, was unable to lift over Joan García.

Time slipped away, no way back, and as Barcelona’s control returned so too did the olés, the expression of an incontestable superiority that lasted almost all season. Soon they were followed by a chorus of ‘campeones, campeones’. There was a round too of ‘Madrid, you bastards, salute the champions!’ Twice Barcelona might have scored again but it did not matter, the roar huge at the whistle, pyrotechnics exploding.

Up in the directors’ box sat the president of the league, Javier Tebas, and the president of the Spanish football federation, Rafael Louzán, here on official duty. Alongside them, was the president of the international boxing federation, Mauricio Sulaimán. Florentino Pérez, the president of Real Madrid, was not there. When it was all over – the clásico and the title race – they came down, handed over the trophy and the celebrations began. By then, Madrid had departed. They had done some time ago.