We have this image in our minds of WAGs and expensive cars and shady “guys only” trips to Ibiza. But Xavi lives with his mom, probably in the same room and bed he has had since he rolled out of the cradle. The difference is, the wood bars no longer keep him. Does anyone else find this creepy? I’m not saying Psycho – this is no Bates motel. But, but…

I can just imagine Xavi’s smug little smile after flying into Barcelona from Madrid after the clasico last spring. He would get home around 11:30pm, a little early for dinner, and nonchalantly ask “hey mom, catch the game?” His mom would say no, she had had to go buy some rice and eggs for some tortilla espanola, but she would want to hear all about it over a pitcher of sangria.

In terms of the forthcoming clasico, Xavi has had a good run of form for Barcelona, but Madrid seems to have turned a corner. Rather then being a team of has-beens and flopped upstarts, Gonzalo Higuain’s individual brilliance has overshadowed serious offensive cracks. Yes, the defense with Arbeloa at left and Albiol at center looks better, but can Lass contain Barcelona’s “pocket midfield dynamo?”

More disturbingly, for Madrid fans at least, is the return and re-emergence of Andres Iniesta. The slippery Spaniard is the smoking caulking gun, lingering in defensive seams to provide cohesion for Barcelona’s offense. And you just know that those wicked sideburns do more than hide a receding hairline – they distract from the determined face of a serious competitor. This is no mama’s boy. In fact, Iniesta probably hasn’t called his home in several days. He’s that edgy.

Xavi may give the jalopy a push from behind, but in the attacking third Iniesta firmly handles the steering wheel of the Catalan attack. And while Ronaldo is recovering from his latest ankle endeavor, the sneaky Spaniard is back to the widow’s peak of his powers.

Win or lose, we can count on one thing. After a shower and an interview, Xavi will spend the night feasting on mariscos and vino blanco in the comfort of his own home. And maybe there’s nothing wrong with that. Maybe Xavi just stayed home to cut costs in anticipation of the Spanish tax-hike on footballers.

Still, I like to think about Xavi’s return flight from the 2006 World Cup. He would get home, grumpy, and his mom, sensing the mood, would try to get him to talk it out. “So, Xavi, you played against that old guy, the French one…” Xavi, disgusted, would cross his arms and refuse to touch any of the arroz con leche his mom had made. He would look away in a valley-girl moment of “you’re here but you’re not important.”

His mom would try to comfort him, starting to say “Well, that guy just embarrassed himself when he…” but Xavi would interrupt. “Moooooooooooooooom!”

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