I know it's a cliché but I can think of no better way of describing Wednesday night's Champions League final than this: the best team won.

For the first 10 minutes it looked like it would be United's night. They attacked with speed and desire and had already had five attempts on goal by the time Barcelona had their first. Unfortunately for the English team, when Barca did manage their first it ended up nestling in the back of the net.

What I, and no doubt many others, expected was for United to use that early setback to spur them on to one of their great comebacks. But it never materialised. Instead, they were played off the park by their opponents who seemed not only intent on winning the game but also on dishing out a football lesson in the process.

And that's precisely what they did.

With Xabi and Iniesta running the midfield, and Messi up front mesmerising United's unusually shaky rearguard, Barca spent 80 minutes playing exactly the sort of football Sir Alex would have wanted to see from his own side. It was fluid, fluent, free-flowing and fascinating.

To give him credit, the United boss was quick to point out after the match that they had been beaten by the better side. But just because he was outwardly graceful in defeat doesn't mean he wasn't burning with fury on the inside.

Because it wasn't just that United failed to become the first team to defend the Champions League, it was more the way they went about the failing.

At the final whistle you could tell that even the players themselves knew they had not performed. There were no tears or players slumped to the ground in despair. There were no angry remonstrations with the referee or linesmen.

Instead, each United player walked around in a daze with looks on their faces that said it all - we were second best.

I don't think I have ever seen a United team resort to so many long balls. They were terrified of playing it through the middle of the park, and that tells me the defenders had no confidence in their own midfield being able to win the battle.

How much would United have given for a Roy Keane at his peak? A player who would have run around biting the ankles of Iniesta and Xabi if need be, just to put them off their game. A man who could distract his opponents with one, steely-eyed stare.

You could argue that Darren Fletcher would have done that if it wasn't for the fact he was serving a suspension for carrying out a perfectly-timed tackle in the previous round. But Fletcher is no more than a poor man's Keane, a cheap and often amusing imitation of the great Irishman.

Whatever the cause for United's misfiring, it would be criminal to take anything away from Guardiola and his team who were magnificent as they became the first Spanish side ever to do the treble of league, cup and Europe.

They may only have been there because a Norwegian referee in the previous round took pity on them, but they took that second chance they had been gifted and made the absolute most of it.

And, on that display, it might just be Barca that are looking to become the first team to defend this particular title next season.

I wouldn't bet against them...

So near yet so far

I would just like to take this opportunity to thank all of you who e-mailed in with your sympathies following Sheffield United's defeat in Monday's play-off final.

Actually, that's a lie.

While I did get messages from one or two close friends offering their sympathies and commiserations, most of the e-mails I got where from readers taking great pleasure in my misery.

I particularly liked the one from a person who strangely declined to leave his name: "1-0. Ha-Ha. Teeches (sic) you." He also told me to go forth and procreate, though not in those words. Pure class.

I suppose a little mickey-taking is the least I deserve. After all, I am not averse to dishing it out, so it's only fair to expect to be on the receiving end as well.

What you fail to take into account though is that, as a Sheffield United supporter for a good 30-years now, I am more than used to disappointment.

I have seen us miss out in four FA Cup semi-finals and, including Monday, three play-off finals. There have been occasional highs, admittedly, like promotion a couple of years ago.

But those infrequent successes have been immeasurably outweighed by the failures. It is all par for the course when it comes to being a Blade.

The sad thing is that this time it just felt like we were going to do it. The club as an institution is undoubtedly all geared up for life in the Premier League. Sadly, the players weren't.

I guess there is always next season. How many times have I said that before...?

Sorry state of affairs

I have made no secret of the fact that I don't particularly like Newcastle owner Mike Ashley. Since he bought the club in 2007 he has been to football ownership what the Titanic was to iceberg avoidance.

And his incompetence has indirectly, if not directly led to the ultimate sinking of the good ship Toon.

However, having said that, I have to admire him this week for taking the unusual step of issuing a statement apologising to the fans.

Normally, when confronted by disaster or relegation, owners and chairmen go into hiding, hoping that everybody else will take the blame.

Ashley, however, has not hidden, even though that would have been the easy thing to do, especially as earlier in the season he didn't even feel safe enough to go to the ground.

"Seeing Newcastle relegated has been a catastrophe for us all. I fully accept that mistakes were made during this and previous seasons, and I am very sorry for that," he said.

Okay, he deflected some of the blame on to the previous owners, but at least he accepted his own role in the relegation.

Then again, considering the financial implications of relegation, I don't suppose he had much choice other than to start some serious bridge-building with the fans - nobody is going to buy a championship club off him.

If Ashley can stop meddling in team affairs and Shearer is persuaded to stay on, then I can see Newcastle bouncing straight back, refreshed and invigorated for their season's break.

And, apologies or not, that is the only way Ashley will ever be forgiven by the fans.

Chant of the week

What I like is supporters who can find the lighter side of life even when faced with doom.

Last Sunday, the Middlesborough fans showed their sense of humour was not about to evaporate with their impending relegation from the Premier League.

When they heard that Hull were 1-0 down:

"Four goals! We only need four goals!"

When their team then went 1-0 down:

"Five goals! We only need five goals!"

And when the five goals didn't materialise:

"We're all going to Blackpool!"

That's what makes English football that little bit special.

Your say

Chris Borg writes:

"What a difference a year makes.

"This time last year Jenson Button was struggling like crazy, the British press especially were taking the mickey and insulting him by calling him Chocolate Button. I have nothing but admiration for JB for sticking with the master of Formula 1, Ross Brawn.

"The man is a genius, and one can only look back to his tenure at the Maranello outfit to realise his achievements. Going back to Button, five victories in six races is no mean feat. Winning at Monaco is special for any driver, and to do it with the dominance he showed on Sunday as part of a string of successes has demonstrated that he and his car can race in heat, rain, slow corners, fast corners, the whole lot.

"Little wonder F1's youngest ever world champion, Lewis Hamilton, said: "Jenson is doing a fantastic job and clearly he is in the best position to win the championship."

Chocolate Button indeed... What a difference a year makes."

sportscolumnist@timesofmalta.com