Fatty and Atom Ant overshadow Beckham

Spanish League: Barcelona 1 Real Madrid 2: England captain happy to play the artisan's role as Roberto Carlos and Ronaldo fire Real past Barcelona

Fatty and El Ingles did what Real Madrid expected of them in Saturday night's 2-1 superclasico victory against Barcelona but Atom Ant stole the show.

Fatty - El Gordo - is what they have taken to calling Ronaldo these days in Spain. Not the politest of names for a player who is in the running to collect his fourth Fifa world player of the year award, but not entirely inappropriate given the Brazilian superstar's increasing physical resemblance to an overeating, under-training heavyweight boxer.

El Ingles is, of course, the lean, super-fit Bernabeu favourite David Beckham, and Atom Ant is Roberto Carlos, who has to be quite simply the most extraordinary player alive. With the possible exception of the Real goalkeeper Iker Casillas, who pulls off at least one utterly impossible save a game - and Saturday night against the old enemy was no exception - Roberto Carlos was the decisive force behind Real Madrid's first victory at the Nou Camp in 20 years.

The Brazilian scored the first goal, typically lashing the ball into the net from 25 yards out; set up the second for Ronaldo from the left wing and played in defence like a man possessed, being lucky to get away with just the one yellow card. You can argue all day as to which of the Real Madrid superstars is the best player in the world, but Roberto Carlos is the most remarkable and the most unique.

There have been other players in history comparable to his team-mates, Zinedine Zidane and Ronaldo, but there has never been another Roberto Carlos, never a left back who tackles and covers as demonically as he does while exercising such a dominant influence over a game, posing such a permanent threat in attack. As we saw once more at the Nou Camp, he is a force of nature and it is highly unlikely we will ever look on his like again.

Little wonder then that the instant the whistle blew Beckham rushed towards the little Brazilian and took him, with a cry of primal delight, in his arms. The Nou Camp is a lucky pitch for Beckham, the scene of his greatest triumph with Manchester United - the 2-1 victory against Bayern Munich in the 1999 Champions' League final. It had to be lucky again on Saturday, for Real Madrid did not deserve their win on energy invested, on attacks launched. Once again, as has been the case all season in Spain, what saved them was their lethal economy in front of goal.

To no one do the words "lethal" and "economy" apply better than to Ronaldo. He promised he would score on his first game back at the Nou Camp after leaving Barcelona in the summer of 1998 and score he did, putting away what for most ordinary mortals would be a half-chance but for him was a sitter. He did very little during the 75 minutes he stayed on the pitch against Barcelona, but more than he does in most games. Once he scored he felt he had done enough, signalled to the bench to take him off and off he gently trotted, ravishing images probably floating though his mind of the night's impending beef steak.

He deserves all the steaks he can eat. His goal average has not been matched in Spain since 1948. In the two-and-a-third seasons he has played in Spain, in both Barcelona and Real Madrid, he has played in 82 league games and scored 69 times. When he is not shooting on goal he rests. Not one of his team-mates resents him because they know that when he emerges from his doze he will explode. And win the game for them.

Beckham is the precise opposite. He does not explode, he simmers all game long. No one - except Roberto Carlos - runs more than he does, carries out more duties in defence and in attack. Against Barcelona he was not at his elegant best but he scrapped all night long and for that, because he gives his all every single game, the Real Madrid fans love him.

Barça could have used him in a game they never looked like not losing. They could also have used the player they bought in his place, Ronaldinho. But the mightily talented Brazilian, an instant hit at the Nou Camp, was out injured and while Patrick Kluivert, Marc Overmars and company huffed and puffed gamely enough without him, in the end, as tends to be the case in games involving Real, class told more than effort.

The 92,000 Barça fans certainly knew it. Strangely subdued from the start, lacking the conviction to repeat last year's Nou Camp antics and toss, among other things, a pi\g's head at Luis Figo (the detested traitor who left Barça for Real), they simpered through most of the game, sadly aware that man for man they cannot begin to compete with the galacticos. Ronaldinho was not in much doubt about it either. He left his seat before the end of the game, but not before persuading his World Cup winning team-mate Ronaldo to part with his white shirt - probably the only trophy Barça's favourite Brazilian will be able to put on display come the end of the season.