A president delivers peace and, surely, the title for Barcelona

F ranck Kessié hasn’t always been in the right place at the right time but on Sunday night at 10.53pm he was exactly where he needed to be, and when. One morning, soon after arriving at Milan, the Ivorian pulled into Milanello and parked in the space reserved for the big boss. Stopped by security, told he couldn’t go there because that was the president’s spot, he replied: “I am the president.” It fit somehow and the title stuck. That day he became The President; now, five years on, he became President, King, Emperor, anything he likes. Above all, he became La Liga champion, they all did. Which is why he, the son of a soldier, was standing to salute, and Camp Nou was going wild around him.

Sometimes the difference is a fine line, and sometimes that’s literal. The clock showed 80.15 in the 258th clásico, the one that would decide the destiny of the league, and the tension had been growing for a while, everything and everyone on edge, when Marco Asensio scored to make it 2-1 to Real Madrid. As he set off pointing to the badge on his shirt, over on the touchline Carlo Ancelotti clenched his fists and, to his left, Xavi Hernández couldn’t help but think how unfair it was. It was Asensio’s first touch, the kind of moment you knew was coming even when it wasn’t coming, and it reopened the title race.

On the replays, though, Asensio looked offside, and 600km south west in Las Rozas, where referees wear kit to sit in a small room with big screens, they were applying the lines in blue and red that confirmed it. With the clock on 82.49, Ricardo de Burgos Bengoetxea drew an imaginary TV and raised his arm while the Camp Nou raised the roof, marking their relief and the first time VAR had ruled out a clásico goal. Nine points