LAST MINUTE BOMB! President Florentino Pérez accused FC Barcelona of always receiving protection to maintain the attractiveness of the Copa del Rey. According to him, the Catalan team is constantly favored both in referee decisions and in draws, with the sole objective of guaranteeing its presence in the key rounds and generating drama in the competition.

Spanish football is shaken again with a high-voltage statement. This time, the controversy does not arise in a locker room or in a press room after a hot match, but in the words of one of the most powerful and influential leaders in European sport. Florentino Pérez, president of Real Madrid, launched a direct and forceful accusation against FC Barcelona, pointing out an alleged protection system designed to ensure the presence of the Barça team in the decisive phases of the Copa del Rey.
It was neither a veiled criticism nor an ambiguous insinuation. According to Pérez, Barcelona would be repeatedly favored both in refereeing decisions and in the tournament draws, all with a clear objective: to preserve the media appeal of the competition and guarantee the drama necessary to maintain the interest of the public and the income associated with the show.
The white president’s words soon caused a media earthquake. When a figure of his institutional weight speaks of structural favoritism, the debate stops being merely sports and becomes a question of the credibility of the system. The Copa del Rey, one of the most emblematic tournaments in Spanish football, immediately came under suspicion in the public conversation.
Florentino Pérez is not a secondary actor in this scenario. His career at the head of Real Madrid, his influence in offices and his history of strategically calculated speeches mean that each of his statements is analyzed to the millimeter. For many, his words reflect a deep discomfort with the direction of national football. For others, they are part of a recurring narrative that seeks to discredit a historical rival when the spotlight is not focused on strictly football.
The core of the accusation is especially sensitive: the idea that lotteries and arbitration are not neutral, but rather tools to construct an attractive story. In other words, the competition is not limited to rewarding sporting performance, but responds to commercial and narrative interests. A serious statement that, if true, would put the legitimacy of the entire tournament in check.
From those around FC Barcelona, the reaction was immediate, although not strident. Far from entering into a dialectical war with the president of Real Madrid, the answer came from the bench. Hansi Flick, Barça coach, was asked about the accusations and opted for a path diametrically opposed to direct confrontation.
Flick responded with a single sentence, as brief as it was forceful, full of confidence and an internal message: “I fully believe in my team and what we show on the field.”

Nothing else. No mentions of Florentino Pérez. Without references to referees, draws or institutions. Just an affirmation of faith in one’s own work. That response, precisely because of its simplicity, was interpreted as a silent blow. For many, Flick decided to elevate the debate above the noise and focus it on the only terrain he considers legitimate: the grass.
The contrast between both discourses could not be clearer. On the one hand, an accusation that points to structures, offices and supposed hidden interests. On the other hand, a response that vindicates sporting merit and trust in the group. Two visions of football that collide head-on and reflect a rivalry that transcends generations.
The controversy, however, cannot be analyzed only from the Barça–Madrid perspective. What is at stake is something broader: the perception of fairness in national competitions. Every time referee impartiality or the cleanliness of draws is questioned, fan confidence is eroded. And without trust, the show loses value.
The Copa del Rey has always been presented as everyone’s tournament, the space where modest clubs can dream and the big ones are obliged to demonstrate their hierarchy. Precisely for this reason, the insinuation that some teams start with a structural advantage is especially damaging. Not because it is new, but because it is repeated with a frequency that no longer surprises, but does wear out.
Florentino Pérez’s defenders argue that his words reflect an uncomfortable reality that many prefer to ignore. That modern football lives on storytelling and that the big names guarantee an audience, sponsors and international impact. From this perspective, protecting the most high-profile clubs would not be a conspiracy, but rather business logic.
Detractors, on the other hand, consider his statements irresponsible. They point out that it does not provide evidence, that it generalizes and that it contributes to a climate of permanent suspicion that damages Spanish football as a whole. Furthermore, they remember that Real Madrid has also historically been one of the great beneficiaries of media focus and institutional weight.
In the midst of this intersection of accusations, FC Barcelona tries to maintain its sporting course. The squad interprets their coach’s speech as a message of unity and strength. Flick’s phrase was not only an external response, but also an internal reminder: the team should not be distracted by noise and controversies.
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Today’s football, hyperexposed and permanently analyzed, turns every word into a headline and every gesture into a symbol. The confidence that Flick transmits contrasts with Florentino Pérez’s tone of denunciation, and this difference in styles also communicates. One points out the system. The other takes refuge in daily work.
In the short term, the controversy will have no visible consequences. The Copa del Rey will continue its course, the matches will be played and the results will be decided on the field. But in the long term, these types of statements leave their mark. They feed a narrative of distrust that conditions the fan’s view and the interpretation of each controversial decision.
Because from now on, every foul, every penalty and every draw will be under suspicion for a part of the public. And that is, perhaps, football’s biggest defeat when the debate shifts from the game to constant suspicion.
Hansi Flick’s phrase, simple and firm, summarizes Barcelona’s position in the face of the storm: believe in one’s own work and let football speak. Florentino Pérez, on the other hand, has chosen to focus on structures and interests.
Between both visions, Spanish football once again walks a tightrope. And like so many other times, it will be the grass that tries to impose a truth that, outside of it, seems increasingly difficult to reach consensus.