In a miraculous turn of events that left football pundits scratching their heads and Dortmund fans questioning reality, Barcelona's star striker Robert Lewandowski reenacted his past life as the ultimate tormentor of the Bundesliga. In a contest that felt less like a Champions League quarter-final and more like a generous alumni game, Lewandowski lit up the pitch, plastering Borussia Dortmund with two goals and a free pass back to his old haunts. As the sun shone down on the Camp Nou, the crowd buzzed not just with excitement, but with excitement for watching a masterclass in "How to Break Hearts" hosted by none other than Mr. Lewandowski himself. Kickoff saw Barca flexing their muscles, showcasing the charm of a toddler with a new toy—namely, that toy being Borussia Dortmund's defense, which had apparently been left in some kind of post-holiday stupor. The opening goal was delivered with the grace and precision often reserved for ballet dancers—if ballet dancers were, say, laden with the weight of blundering defenders. Raphinha, channeling his inner magician, pulled a rabbit out of a hat (or rather, a ball out of thin air) to score in the 25th minute, thus prompting the crowd to remind Dortmund that, yes, this was an actual match and yes, they actually had opponents present. By the time Lewandowski strutted onto the stage, the atmosphere shifted from confusion to outright hilarity—as if the Bundesliga club had unknowingly signed up for a comedy show. His first strike came shortly after Raphinha's opener, a sweet reminder that sometimes your exes don't just break your heart; they also score goals against you for fun. The second goal, served fresh from the Lewandowski kitchen, was akin to watching a cat toy with a particularly unfortunate mouse. Dortmund's defense, seemingly still debating where they’d prefer to eat for dinner that evening, allowed Lewandowski to exploit yet another vacuous space, turning the scoreline into a buffet – 4-0 and all-you-can-eat. The irony wasn't lost on spectators that Lewandowski, having left Dortmund with plenty of memories and goals—amid the occasional misty-eyed farewell—was now polishing two additional entries in the annals of “What Could Have Been”. In fact, after the match, Lewandowski was seen trotting off the pitch wearing a vintage Dortmund jersey, cap in hand, as if to say, "Thanks for the memories, but look how I’m doing now!" As the final whistle blew, it was clear that Dortmund had not only underestimated this homecoming but had also missed the memo: when Lewandowski's in town, it’s not just a game; it’s a legend's reunion tour, and the tickets cost you four goals, a few bruised egos, and a heavy dose of existential dread. Now, as they prepare for the return leg in Germany, the only question that remains is how Dortmund’s defenders plan to approach this setback: motivational speeches, cryotherapy, or perhaps just a round of team therapy, because if they think it can get worse, just wait until Lewandowski comes to visit again... with a full arsenal of goals!