The Ramon Sanchez-Pizjuan whistled for a few seconds and then it took its first breath. For almost two hours on that Sunday evening in Spain's south, it had been denied any chance to do so, an entire season seemingly rolling itself into a single 90-minute outing, 11 weeks reaching a crescendo and then exploding into one all-consuming note that was the extrapolation of them all.
Back and forth they went, trading blows as though they'd never play again. Sevilla went first. Barcelona went next. Vitolo, Mariano, Sergio Escudero, Steven N'Zonzi, Samir Nasri, Luciano Vietto and Franco Vazquez: Bloody hell, they were good, dashing and obliterating, storming forward in waves.