A BARCA MASTERCLASS

Prior to Barcelona's 3-1 masterclass over Manchester United in the UEFA Champions League Final at Wembley on Saturday, a die-hard Barca friend of mine said that he expected me to write an analysis of the match 'after we take the cup.' He said the words magnificent, splendid, magic, and awe should feature in it. Well, here it is!

Sir Alex Ferguson stood in awe on the sideline as his team capitulated spectacularly on Saturday evening. "In my time as manager it's the best team we have ever faced," Fergie would say later on. "No one has ever given us a hiding like that."

Indeed, such wizardry on a football field was previously unheard of. Xavi controlled his team in magnificent fashion, acting like the axis on a wheel around which all revolves.

Lionel Messi. One runs out of adjectives to describe the class of the man. To say he was splendid on Saturday night would not do him justice. His scorching curler to give Barca the lead was a goal from heaven, and will stay in the memories of Barca fans for some time to come.

Just for good measure, David Villa produced a moment of magic to put the seal on Barcelona's fourth Champions League triumph.

As Steve McLaren later said, "That was an education for Man Utd."

THE VUVUZELA - LET ‘EM STAY!

Footballers love to complain. Whether it’s the ball that’s playing tricks on the goalkeepers (Jabulani, anyone?), or a pitch that’s too wet to play on, they love finding a reason to scapegoat their failures upon.

The recent advent of the vuvuzela, or the lepatata in its native South African language, has provided players another such excuse. Made out of plastic, these tubes of joy can produce noise levels measured at up to 127 decibels, roughly the same range as a firecracker.

When Argentine superstar Lionel Messi blamed the vuvuzela for his team conceding a goal against South Korea last week, it was clear that there was something going with the vuvuzela.

Some say it sounds like an elephant in distress, while others associate it to the sound of hundreds of millions of bees protesting in anger.

FIFA considered banning it, but to no avail.

Wimbledon have already banned the vuvuzela at their annual tennis tournament and rightfully so. Somehow the idea of Roger Federer getting ready to serve on match point, only to be shocked into dropping his racquet by the sharp blare of a vuvuzela just doesn’t quite seem right.

But I’ve come to like the vuvuzela. It’s something different, something unique that’s been a refreshing change from the usual sound of a football match. Its abrasive resonance fills me with a sense of joy and fulfillment, and has made this World Cup different from the rest.

When you hear that elephant desperately call for a doctor, you know it’s time for some high quality international footy.

Sure the crowd can still sing and chant, what’s stopping the vuvuzela from playing a part in the festive atmosphere that only a World Cup can produce? You’re not allowed to blow it during national anthems, nor when a speech is going on so what’s the problem.

A South African sportswriter by the name of Jon Qwelane once described the vuvuzela as "an instrument from hell". It resulted in him imposing a self-ban on himself from watching live games in South Africa.

If a 65 centimeter plastic tube can ruin a World Cup for you, then God help you always.

Isn’t it better to just embrace the vuvuzela as a son, and get on with the festivities?

- Mohamed Kazim Suleman