Ernesto Valverde said Lionel Messi had left Old Trafford “dazed”. Six days later, it was Manchester United’s turn. Chris Smalling’s challenge had left him with a bloody nose but on a night where he sometimes seemed to be playing a different sport, he was the one who delivered the knockout blow. He did so early in the second leg, two goals inside 20 minutes enough to end this as a contest – taking Barcelona into the semi-finals for the first time in four years – and turn it instead into a performance, a show, an exhibition of superiority. Ultimately there was little United could do but at least they are not alone.

Messi’s victims are many, and one of them is him. He is a victim of his own ability, of over a decade spent making the extraordinary routine, normalising genius. There are 880 words in this article, but maybe two are enough: Lionel and Messi. For years there’s been a severe shortage of superlatives, all those adjectives inadequate, and this was another of those nights. Sometimes the simplest judgment is the best: Messi is just better.

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Five times winner of the European Golden Boot, five times the Champions League’s top scorer, he has scored 597 goals for Barcelona. Five hundred and ninety-seven. But it’s not even about the goals. It is about all the rest. At times the things he does are plain silly. At times? Time after time: the consistency of his contribution has been absurd, blinding us to his brilliance.

Except not here, not of late. Messi has not been the competition’s top scorer since 2015 and Barcelona had not been past the quarter-finals since then, eliminated by Atlético, Juventus and Roma. Last season cut deep: 4-1 winners in the first leg, they had fallen in the Eternal City, defeated 3-0. At the start of this season Messi announced from the middle of the Camp Nou pitch, microphone in hand, “that lovely cup” was a priority this time. Rome was a thorn to be pulled from their side. This win was a “small step”, Messi said at the final whistle.

It was a priority that required a change – and from Messi in particular. He had not scored a quarter-final goal since 2013. Twelve games without Messi finding the net is an eternity. It was also an anomaly – it had to end sometime.

That was certainly the view of the Barcelona manager. “He’s closer,” Valverde had said. But even he probably did not imagine how close. Nor indeed how much Barcelona would suffer in the short time before he arrived into the game. Marcus Rashford hit the bar after 40 seconds, Jesse Lingard was almost played through after five minutes and Anthony Martial’s shot was blocked after six. “We started nervously,” said Messi.

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But in the 16th minute, it happened – and fast. And then the nerves were gone. “He’s the best in the world,” said Clément Lenglet. “When we’re in a difficult situation he always invents something to save us, pulling us out of the water.”

Ashley Young lost the ball but might have expected to get it back. It dropped close, but Messi was there in a flash. He was elastic. Young launched at him with a challenge that might have cut him in half, water flying as he aquaplaned, but Messi rode it. There was something of George Best in the way his body bent around the tackle. Then he sent the ball through Fred’s legs. And as he ran across the face of the area, the outcome seemed inevitable. The shot bent fast and low into the corner.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest David de Gea watches Barcelona’s second goal trickle in. Photograph: Sergio Pérez/Reuters

Barcelona were a goal up, on course to extend their unbeaten home run in this competition to 31 games. Six of those had been against English teams: five wins, one draw, aggregate score 14-3. Make that six wins, one draw. It was Messi’s 23rd goal against an English team. His 24th followed soon after, the stadium having only just stopped chanting his name when he was away from Phil Jones again. The shot was barely worthy of the name but it slipped through De Gea. “That one was luckier,” Messi admitted.

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At the start of the second half, Barcelona’s fans serenaded United’s keeper as he occupied the goal at the north end, singing: “De Gea, how bad you are!” How good Messi is had been shown – again – just before the half-time whistle. Jones was holding his shirt, but that didn’t stop Messi turning him and turning the referee too. He hadn’t finished with Jones: he nutmegged the Englishman, cutting inside, outside and away, almost leaving the defender’s legs in a cartoon knot, hips snapped in two. The pass was perfect for Jordi Alba, whizzing up the wing, and his superb cross found Sergi Roberto, denied by De Gea.

Messi began the second half with a blocked shot and glided through the rest of it to the sound of olés: seven shots, six dribbles, 78 passes, easing to the end, enjoying this. Philippe Coutinho curled in a wonderful third and Messi sent an overhead kick just wide. This was done and had been since the 16th minute. “Don’t try to describe him, don’t try to write about him: watch him,” Pep Guardiola once said. It is sound advice, and so they did.