Insatiable and impeccable, he is one of the players who best represent the voracity stamp that Hansi Flick imprints on his Barça. Goal scorer, assistant, runner, midfielder, and forward. He is Fermín. A total Fermín. A superlative Fermín. A general Fermín who was not a world champion due to the misfortune of an injury, but who has returned hungrier than ever, more eager to earn his place. For now, he has left Dani Olmo, who came from the United States strengthened, on the bench. But the Andalusian is on fire.

The pessimists no longer have anyone to write to them. We are referring to the culés, obviously. Barça under Flick is in a mode that leaves no complaints worth mentioning. The blaugrana group has started the season like a rocket. In Mestalla, an old pressure cooker now turned inward…

The blue and red thrashing was uncontestable. Deafening. Mestalla counted up to five. Rarely have there been more contrasting soundtracks than those played by Valencia and Barcelona. The former was a victim of fear. The latter set a leader’s pace. Of a champion licensed to dream of a third consecutive League title. Even if it’s only matchday 4. Even if the thermometer read 36 degrees. It doesn’t matter. There were five great goals. Lamine Yamal scored a double. And Fermín joined the party. And Raphinha. And Pedri. The lone leader shone at the old Mestalla, a stadium that is beginning to say goodbye to its fans in the worst possible way while waiting for the New Mestalla: more hostile than ever. Propelling from their throats boos much louder against Peter Lim and his management than against Barcelona itself. An atmosphere that terrifies its own team, a soulless group at the mercy of Barcelona.