God have mercy on Arsene Wenger's destroyed and battered troops

That Barcelona did what they did to Arsenal for almost three-quarters of this wondrous match without their pale-faced genius Andres Iniesta hints darkly at what Wenger may expect at the Nou Camp if the world's finest midfielder returns next week.

And that Barca dismantled, destroyed, murdered, massacred, annihilated and generally humiliated Arsenal for 70 minutes with Lionel Messi so subdued by his own unique standards, God have mercy on them in Catalonia if the adorable little Argentine cares to remind us why sound judges are now asking not whether he is the planet's best player (that's a gimme) but the best of all time.

If that strikes you as a load of hyperbolics, go to YouTube for the highlights of his recent La Liga display against Zaragoza; you'll never have seen the like in all your puff.

Even without Iniesta and with barely half of Messi, 1-6 would have been an accurate reflection of events at Emirates Stadium.

After the first 15 minutes, during which Messi looked like Messi before fading, Barca should have led by three or four. After half an hour the statistic for possession was — would you believe with Arsenal playing at home — 30:70. And by half-time, the exultation at the invention and unending beauty of Barca's play ("I defy anyone to watch this," as my cousin put it, "and not love football") was tempered by confusion about Wenger's game plan.

The only way to handle this side, as Guus Hiddink's Chelsea illustrated in last season's Stamford Bridge epic, is to stifle them in midfield and deny them the time and space with which they will torment any opposition.

That is not the Wenger way, of course, but even so his eagerness to take Barcelona on as putative equals and gift them all the time and space they required was as bold, to put it charitably, as it was purist. C'est magnifique, as Canrobert said about the Charge of the Light Brigade it resembled, mais ce n'est pas la guerre.

Magnificently brave it certainly was, this headlong rush into the valley of death. But so was Ricky Hatton when he tried to impose himself on Floyd Mayweather Jnr and he took a fearful mashing for his courage.

That Arsenal's lights weren't quite extinguished was down to four factors: the excellence of Manuel Almunia's goalkeeping, the unwonted profligacy of Barca's finishing, a laughably idiotic penalty decision and a stirring show of raw guts, exemplified by the stricken Cesc Fabregas, from a team seldom lauded before for their character.

How they hung in there after that opening hour, in which Zlatan Ibrahimovic's exquisitely-taken brace of early second-half goals was such comically scant reward, I doubt even they have a clue, but seldom has "Lucky, lucky Arsenal" seemed an apter chant. With the imperious Xavi controlling the tempo and flow, they rode their luck in defence as a torrent of chances were either wasted or repelled by Almunia's arms, torso and legs.

Then they rode it some more in attack, as first a poorly-directed shot from Theo Walcott, terrific as second- half substitute, squirmed under Victor Valdes and then the referee punished Fabregas for inadvertently kicking Carles Puyol's thigh by awarding the penalty he took so well — and at such cost to his leg and his club's Premier League ambitions.

If this was God paying Barca back for the three blatant penalties that Norwegian dunce failed to give Chelsea against them a year ago, it seemed a pretty confused kind of divine rough justice. But then so did the final score as the innate amorality that makes football so compelling prevented the vastly-superior team from winning.

Win the tie, however, Barca surely will. The loss of both first-choice centre- backs will be a minor inconvenience at the Nou Camp because, bereft of Fabregas, Arsenal will have little dangerous possession, if any at all.

If Iniesta plays, and if Messi unleashes a clutch of those scything and literally mesmerising 50-yard dribbles that make Maradona look like Shaun Wright-Phillips, they will need another giant dollop of luck and more inspired goalkeeping to escape with a 0-3 defeat.

There is every chance that the rematch will be more Hatton vs Pacquiao (shuddering second-round knockout) than Hatton vs Mayweather (10th-round TKO when exhausted).

Ultimately, this is a mismatch between a good side and one of historic greatness. For all that, or rather because of that, Arsenal deservedly take great pride from the defiance they dredged up; and for playing a role, however junior, in one of the three or four most scintillating games I've ever seen.