For the benefit of Barcelona's soon-to-be-enraged supporters, let's just get this out of the way now: I used to be a fan too. I fell in love with the club as a kid, and I was obviously very fortunate in terms of the era in which I grew up.
I remember trying to replicate Ronald Koeman's Wembley winner with my friends on the street outside my house. Hristo Stoichkov and Romario running rings around Steve Bruce and Gary Pallister inspired me to write my first-ever match report, which I proudly presented to my Manchester United-supporting dad (he still maintains that while it was well-written for a 13-year-old, I'd clearly derived far too much joy from the result).
And, just like Bobby Robson, I had my hands on my head when Ronaldo wheeled away in celebration after scoring a goal so incredible that I still get goosebumps thinking about it today.
But there was more to it than phenomenal players and magical moments...