The Remontada. Barcelona 6-1 PSG.

“It’s Neymar trying to feed it through..it’s a stretch..and it’s in and I can’t remember the last time I saw something like this. Extraordinary scenes!!!!! Sergio Roberto!!!!!!”

I still remember the crisp details of that night. It was stupefying. Breathtaking. Almost had me crying.

The commentator howled as Barcelona scored it’s 6th goal against the Paris Saint German and I couldn’t believe what I just saw.

It was an unusual day. 8th of March, 2017. A day which never I realised would etch on my memories forever. I slipped on to my Blaugrana jersey as I awaited for the kickoff that took place at around 11 in the night here. Just like most of the fans, nervousness kicked me hard and had me want to kill the time. For most of us, it was impossible to expect what we wanted out that match. The first leg left no chance for us to even hope for a comeback. It was 4-0. Impossible. The League-1 champions had completely dominated our side at at the Parc des Princes, taking the lead through Di Maria’s free-kick after 18 minutes. Julian Draxler added a second in the 40th minute before Di Maria curled home their third from the edge of the box 10 minutes after half-time and Cavani made their fourth one a huge disappointment for the ones wearing the Barcelona t-shirt. The scoreline equalled Barcelona’s worst ever Champions League defeat and we needed to make a Champions League history as no side had earlier progressed after conceding a four-goal first-leg-away deficit.

But there is something about miracles. They never let you lose hopes.

All of us had switched on the TV’s for an almost impossible remontada. But deep down there, there was a phenomenal belief. A belief that walls of the Camp Nou will cast a spell and execute sorcery no one ever witnessed.

The referee whistled and the match kicked off. Anticipation seeped off my eyes as I had my eyes glued on the screen. Three minutes in….and it was a clean goal by Luisito. There was a sign of relief….

But 4 more. And the time was swaying away fast. Real fast. Just five minutes before the half time, Kurzawa gifted us our second that night. I never felt so good about an own goal like I did that night.

And again, just five minutes after the first half, Leo Messi did the phenomenal. Something which awakened our hankerings to do the impossible. A straight penalty shootout which drew 3-0 on the scoreboard and hope inside our hearts. The crowd at the Camp Nou roared and thumped hard as their beast moved the Barcelona’s train few steps more closer to it’s destination. We knew we could do it..until something more horrible awaited.

Cavani’s goal. It was now 3-1. And an away goal. Which also meant, that we needed to score 3 more. In 30 minutes. Faith again pulled a vanishing act and some of us switched off our TV’s and relished that at least they stay awoke to watch their team move closer to the win.

We thought we tried hard and played well; a mighty defence mechanism because the next day, we knew we had to prepare ourselves for the boos and humiliation that awaited us. And as much as I felt myself in a dilemma whether to switch off my screen to have a good sleep, it NOW makes me pity and laugh on those chaps who missed the next six minutes. Six wholesome minutes.

“And, when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.

88′. 3-1. Neymar is given a free kick. Hearts thumped faster. And he rolls it neat inside the net. It’s 4-1! One. Step. Closer. Neymar, unquestionably was sensational throughout and it was his amazing late free-kick that gave Barcelona a glimmer of hope after Cavani scored an away goal for PSG.

The next two minutes, and Neymar again wins the penalty. A crucial goal which the team desperately needed to overlap the fate.

91′. And as Neymar shoots the penalty straight inside the box, and jeers of nervous breakdown is seen in most of the crowd and all the watchers. We were just 1 down.

95′. Last minute. One hope. One dream. A collective hysteria and anticipation bodied around the stands of the camp nou and the crowd thumped and chanted the Blaugrana anthem on the top of their voices, the kind of exhilaration, the entire Europe had never seen before. I don’t know what it was and what happened in those mili-seconds. Of all what I can remember, Neymar passed on the ball to Roberto and the man of the century, he sweeped it right in the net and there it was.

THE REMONTADA!!!! We had done the impossible. A historical comeback, no sport had ever seen. From 4-0 down to 6-1 up and we had shown the entire world what it meant to support the Blaugranas. I remember shouting and howling on the top of my lungs beating my dining table, only to stand on top of it to shout like a maniac. Tears soon followed. I was crying, shouting, cursing and beating my lungs. And so were most of you. Trust me, it was that crazy.

As soon as Roberto made that goal, Leo rushed towards the stands and posed for the shutterbugs and there came one of his most phenomenal photographs. Lucho rushed towards the team and no one wanted to believe what had just happened. The unfathomable. The miracle. The sorcery. FC Barcelona had happened that night and the Camp Nou sat as the witness to the galore that made us all emotional.

I

didn’t sleep that night. No one did. The media went all hogs to publish the most suitable headline for the most historic comeback sports had ever seen. Reports flew that the amount of thumping after the glorious victory caused an earthquake that was measured on Ritcher’s scale in the beautiful city of Barcelona.

It indeed was phenomenal.

One year went by today and it seems the night never climaxed. And as I watch the match again, there is an unusual appearance of goosebumps that form on my arms and throughout my body and times like these, makes me fall in love with this club even more.

FC Barcelona never ceased to amaze me since 2006.

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