For a brief while, Nou Camp became a kaleidoscope of colour last night. On one side of this enchanting old bowl, thousands upon thousands of Barcelona supporters rose to their feet before kick-off, brandishing red, yellow, blue and grey cards to spell out A Glasgow.
Hampden Park has become the Catalans' sacred destination, but it is Real Madrid who now look forward to the European Cup final with the greater conviction.
After a hot Iberian night, simmering with hostility, Real left Catalonia having established themselves firm favourites to progress.
Real owe their advantage to Zinedine Zidane's capacity for big performances in big games and Steve McManaman's opportunism.
As if there were not enough enmity, the fact it was St Jordi's Day, the patron saint of Catalonia, made this an occasion when the small print on the tickets should have incorporated a warning for those of a nervous disposition.
All day, Catalan flags and Barca scarves had fluttered from balconies, window-sills and spires. The Barcelona-produced publication Sport, a bastion of Nou Camp bias, had surpassed itself with its front cover - a mock-up of Javier Saviola riding a white horse, brandishing a spear and slaying a green dragon bearing the face of Real's captain Fernando Hierro. For them to die roared the headline.
The loathing seldom gave way. A huge banner inside Nou Camp read: Catalonia is not Spain. The din was relentless, tempers were raised and on more than one occasion the Real goalkeeper Dominguez Cesar had to delay his kicks to remove fruit and other missiles from the pitch.
Yet, beyond the rancour, there was great beauty, too.
The natural assumption was that both sides would adopt a policy of conservatism, particularly throughout the opening exchanges. Instead, the first half was an exhibition of wonderfully open football, flashy Latin antics and a united will to attack that induced raucous encouragement when Carles Rexach's side were in the ascendant and spiteful whistles when those in white had the audacity to venture forward.
The most enlightening moments in that frantic, fractious period came from the home team. Patrick Kluivert, having passed a late fitness test, waltzed clear only to see his shot ricochet off Cesar's chest; and Luis Enrique crashed a header off the crossbar before a quarter of an hour had been played.
But, when Real emerged as an attacking force, they did so with distinction, the suspension of Luis Figo, the most reviled man in Catalonia since Franco, failing to inhibit their natural instincts.
Barcelona had absentees too, among them Xavi and Rivaldo, two of the players most likely to dissect Real's defence, and Carles Puyol, their outstanding player of the season.
Alex Ferguson, citing Real as the tournament favourites while scarcely giving Barcelona a mention, must hope Catalan resources are not so depleted when they travel to Madrid next week. Yet, even with their most inspirational forces available, it is difficult to see how they can recover.
Pace has never been Zidane's strongest asset, but, when he collected Raul's smart pass and loped towards goal, the knowledge that Philip Cocu was closing in inspired a lovely dinked shot over Roberto Oscar Bonano that the goalkeeper got a hand to, but could not stop from dropping into his net. It was a piece of sublime individualism.
McManaman, a second-half substitute, ran clear to chip in a fine second in stoppage-time. And, suddenly, something approaching silence engulfed Nou Camp.
BARCELONA: Bonano, Reiziger (Geovanni 59), de Boer, Abelardo (Christanval 73), Cocu, Motta (Gabri 82), Overmars, Rochemback, Luis Enrique, Kluivert, Saviola. Subs Not Used: Reina, Coco. Booked: Luis Enrique, Kluivert, Overmars.
REAL MADRID: Cesar, Salgado, Carlos, Hierro, Pavsn, Helguera, Solari (Flavio 89), Makelele, Guti (McManaman 80), Zidane, Raul. Subs Not Used: Casillas, Savio, Geremi, Karanka, Munitis. Booked: Zidane, Salgado, Cesar. Goals: Zidane 55, McManaman 90.
Referee: A Frisk (Sweden).
