Against the odds, I woke up early in Barcelona the day after my tour of the Camp Nou. It was the only night in the city during which I would sleep at all, and it wasn’t much. Barcelona’s that kind of town. I put on my Iniesta treble-year shirt, and went to the lobby of the hostel for breakfast. A couple of Kiwi guys were sitting at a table nearby and one of them, in that gloriously easy-to-understand Kiwi accent, asked me if I was going to the match. I told him I was, and we chatted for a while. He was an Arsenal fan, but this was before the Messi hat-trick game so I didn’t have as much to say to him about it as I do now. The two of them decided to go buy match tickets, and we agreed to go together.

I found it hard to focus on the myriad sights of the city with my first game-night at the stadium looming in the evening. (A side-note on the evening issue – it’s really nice to have a full day and then the match as it was intended. This is something I would’ve never really thought of, as I’ve gotten so used to mid-afternoon kick-offs that they seem completely normal to me.) The day is kind of a blur for that reason. I met with the Kiwis early in the evening so we could get a bite to eat before the match. As it turns out, the only time Spaniards go off of their extremely strict eating schedule is to accommodate football matches. My kind of country. On the subway to the Nou Camp, I started to feel a welling up of pride at the sight of all of the people dressed in FC Barcelona gear on their own ways to the match, and my place among them. What I wrote in my little notebook was that it was, oddly, the first time Barca seemed like a real sports team to me. Sure, there are penyas and soccer pubs in the United States, but it’s still so isolated. As with the tour of the stadium the day before, this opened my eyes to the massiveness of the club’s appeal. Seeing folks, not just Catalans but a big group of Japanese tourists and some other Americans and a couple of Argentines and so on, all dressed up in Barcelona gear and all on their way to the same match to hope for the same result. Well, it was kind of overwhelming. Realizing, as I said, that I was among them – one Barcelona fan among thousands instead of one Barcelona fan among two or three – gave me a strange sense of belonging in a place I’d only been for 36 hours. I know, I know, cheesy stuff. And when I get back to writing about the club instead of my own experiences, I promise a return to a more cynical version of idealism.

The Kiwis still needed to buy their tickets, and I needed to pick mine up from Will Call, so we went straight to the ticket window. They bought tickets on the opposite side of the stadium from me, behind the goal. We went to eat at a little place called L’Harmonia on the street beside the stadium, and had a couple of beers. In Spain, of course, there’s no drinking in the stadium. There is smoking, though. Lots and lots of smoking, for which I was grateful. The match itself was, according to the sources I’ve read about it, kind of boring and run-of-the-mill. Ibra and Bojan scored the two goals, both in the second half at the goal on the other side of the pitch from where I sat. Three points at home against Osasuna. I had no idea it was boring, though. I was overwhelmed the entire time with that same feeling I’d started to get looking at the trophies the day before and then felt again on the subway. I wondered before the match how long it was going to take me to quit being so excited about being at the stadium and just a few dozen yards away from my sporting heroes and start worrying intensely at the outcome like I do when I’m watching on TV. I really only had that tension during half-time, although I imagine that whenever I go back, it’ll be a much more typical viewing experience for me.

Rather than trying to work my impressions of what it’s like to see a match into prose form, I’m just going to type out the notes I took in my notebook while I was there. (Well, a slightly edited version. For the kids.)

• Holy (expletive), it’s crowded. SO loud! Especially during Alves yellow. 98k whistling + yelling “Muere!” at the ref.

• Group of smoking hot young girls. That is, hot girls who are smoking.

• There was once I had the presence of mind to think “What a joy that I am watching the best footballer on the planet.” But most of the time, it was more like “OMG Messi!!!”

• Ladies LOVE Ibra.

• Things about FCB I appreciate more seeing them live – the pace of the match, Dani Alves’ crosses, just how little Messi is.

So that was it. A satisfying 2-0 win, an Ibra goal, and a lengthy Barcelona-style celebration that night. In the final segment of the Ryan In Spain series, I’ll write about my experience at the Bernabeau the following weekend for the Madrid derby. A quick preview: it’s a scary place.

Quick aside to talk about buying club shirts

I think it matters a lot which shirt you decide to buy. That is, which player’s name and number go on the back. It’s a bigger decision than people give it credit for. You’ve got to consider the long-term consequences of it (Ronaldinho Barca shirts make me cringe a little – Figo shirts are much worse) as well as trying to be clever enough to show that you don’t just go for the most famous player. It also means something to buy the shirt of a guy who had a particularly outstanding impact on the season in question. For example, my 05/06 shirt is Henrik Larsson because of his brilliant contribution to the 2006 Champions League final. My 08/09 shirt is Andres Iniesta because he was, by my estimation, the best player on the team that year. There are obvious exceptions, like just picking whichever one is your favorite player. Obviously nothing wrong with that. But, anyway, if you’re thinking about getting a 2009/10 shirt to celebrate today’s championship, but aren’t sure which player to get, then here are my recommendations. Post your own, with good reasons, in the comments below!

1. Lionel Messi – I know, this breaks the rule I just laid out about going for the most famous player. But this was the year that Messi won the pichichi, scored the hat-trick against Arsenal, and established himself beyond doubt as the best player in the world.

2. Xavi – The engine that makes the Barcelona train work, and the unseen maestro behind just about every goal Messi didn’t score himself. Also, completely unlikely that he’ll ever leave the club in disgrace (or, maybe, at all) and embarrass you for having the shirt.

3. Zlatan Ibrahimovic – Yes, I know he was in poor form in much of the second half of the season but let’s not forget how terrific he was when we was on. The only goal against Madrid in the home-match, the game he had against Arsenal, breaking the record for most consecutive goals scored to start a Barcelona career. Buying the Ibra shirt shows that you respect the contributions of a guy who can be a genuinely brilliant player and without whom, Barca would not have won the league.