Alas, it was the angel and not the demon who endured in the Eternal City.

Barcelona 2
Manchester Utd 0

Alas, it was the angel and not the demon who endured in the Eternal City. In this manufactured battle between perceived good and evil, decreed by the contrasting character traits of Lionel Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo, it was the altar-boy innocence of the Argentine that prevailed in the Stadio Olimpico.

Barcelona did not so much trample over Manchester United's historic plans as perform a scintillating Sardana on them. This epic Champions League final came complete with a compelling sub-plot that ultimately confirmed Messi's heroism and left Sir Alex Ferguson quest for enhanced greatness unfulfilled. The sight of Messi's contorted, airborne frame, every sinew strained to accept Xavi's invitation, will go down as the iconic moment of an unforgettable Champions League final.

It was no more than Pep Guardiola's masterful side deserved. United, but for a robust opening 10 minutes, were astonishingly bereft. In the final analysis, they were beaten before a ball was kicked. The suspension of Darren Fletcher was a blow which only became truly apparent when Andres Iniesta and Xavi began their ritual torment of the mere mortals in his midst. It was no coincidence that Anderson and Park Ji-Sung, ensconced either side of a willing but overextended Michael Carrick, had vacated the scene long before Messi's masterful intervention was crafted by one of these most enchanting orchestrators.

A fraught and unedifying night for the Barclays Premier League champions became an arduous struggle after only 10 minutes, when Samuel Eto'o upstaged the headline acts by grabbing the opening goal, with Iniesta the unstoppable source of United's suffering. With Xavi revelling beside him and Sergio Busquets given little cause for alarm as the patrolman of the team, Barcelona could not believe their luck. Ferguson's volcanic complexion threatened to erupt at various stages of this aggravating night but despite a flurry of changes, the game had already taken an irreversible turn. The movement and supreme poise of Messi, Xavi and Iniesta made mannequins of the often marvellous pride of Manchester; Nemanja Vidic and John O'Shea were rendered particularly wooden.

It took less than a minute for the audience's great expectations to be upheld and for the fascinating personal duel between Ronaldo and Messi to commence. The Portuguese assumed his trademark position after Yaya Toure's clumsy foul on Anderson 35 yards out. Feet apart and valve facing him, Ronaldo sent a firecracker whooshing straight at his countryman, Victor Valdes. The goalkeeper watched the ball as it buzzed towards him like a kamikaze fly. He swatted and hoped for the best, his prayers answered when the heroic Gerard Pique flung himself in the way of Park's rebound. We had lift-off but, crushingly for United, Ronaldo aborted his own thrilling take-off.

It was impossible to imagine a more sumptuous or seductive setting for this ultimate UEFA spectacle. Rome has been positively dripping with glitz and glamour this week, basking in a most glorious burst of sunshine and beguiling its visitors like a supermodel in Jimmy Choos. The Eternal City, awash with history at every piazza, prides itself on its appearance.

The Stadio Olimpico, venue for the 1960 Olympic Games, has been spruced up for the demands of the modern sporting occasion. This vast concrete coliseum - not to be confused with the crumbling one that attracts even more visitors - set a stunning backdrop to this gargantuan gladiatorial joust. Rarely has a match created such lustful anticipation. Andrea Bocelli, no less, was charged with the task of leading a rousing live performance of Handel's Zadok the Priest, the Champions League anthem', while Prince William gave the final a royal seal of approval. With such a billing, Barcelona and Manchester United dared not disappoint.

Pep Guardiola, Barca's swarthy young manager, kept his end of the bargain. "I want the players to feel beautiful, to feel they're playing in front of the entire world," he said dramatically during the build-up. Ferguson's instruction to his players was simple: create history. Again. A likeness of Sir Matt Busby, arranged by colour-coded cards placed strategically on the seats in la curva, brought a resonance to the quest.

Mouthwateringly, Guardiola sprang a surprise by starting Messi as a central piston, ensuring - rather appropriately - that both he and his presumed nemesis were the extreme focal points of the showpiece. It was not the blue boots of the Argentine but the whirr of Ronaldo - like an apparition in United's all-white kit - that caught the eye immediately.

Before Messi enjoyed a meaningful touch, of which there would be plenty, Ronaldo had peppered Victor Valdes's goal with shrapnel and left Toure and Busquets, the holding midfielder, chasing his shadow.

United's early gusto deceived the red sea into a false sense of security. In a flash, Barcelona pierced United's veil of superiority. Iniesta, in a moment of effortless wonder, glided through traffic and pitched a pass straight to Eto'o. The Cameroonian skipped inside a cumbersome Vidic and poked past Edwin van der Sar with the outside of his right boot.

This sudden turn of events spooked United. Mercifully for them, Messi momentarily lost his faculties, too, when Xavi presented him with an almost immediate invitation to double Barca's money; the Argentine uncharacteristically fluffing his lines. United's forceful start was but a distant memory by the intermission as Barcelona grew in gallusness.

Where Xavi and Iniesta orchestrated a symphony, too often the untidiness of Anderson and Park was at odds with the verve of Carrick.

Not surprisingly, the jittery Anderson failed to reappear, his place taken by the bulwark figure of Carlos Tevez. It was an admission that Ferguson's original game plan had been hijacked. Reckless tendencies had not been remedied by the change. John O'Shea's wandering allowed Henry to snake inside the box and send Ferdinand sprawling with one dip of the shoulder. Van der Sar was not so easily fooled by the Frenchman. O'Shea then survived a penalty claim made against him by Messi, who protested the Irishman had nudged him as he strained to reach a slicing Eto'o pass. United were clinging on desperately amid the onslaught.

Tevez was lured into a dangerous foul by Iniesta, unstoppable by anything other than brute force, but luck, scarce as it was, spared United a fatal second as Xavi smacked a post with the resultant free-kick. But fate had it in for Ferguson. As he pitched in Dimitar Berbatov for the leaden Park, Barcelona galloped upfield to pre-empt any United renaissance. Carles Puyol, the Catalans' captain, bounded into enemy territory and his presence discomfited an unsteady defence. A botched clearance fell to the twinkle toes of Iniesta and his effortless cross was headed over van der Sar by a serene-looking Messi. It was a fateful, magical and unforgettable moment.