First came the horrified silence, then a cascade of miniature missiles.

Kylian Mbappé was perfectly within his rights to cherish his strike to win El Clásico, but made the mistake of milking the moment right in front of the Barcelona ultras, leading to a hail of debris from the stands.

Mercifully it was mostly only plastic cups rather than the pig’s head thrown at Luís Figo at this ground, but it was a reminder of this contest’s ability to aggravate tensions like no other. Mbappé had to shield his face at one stage, but once the magnitude of this goal sank in he could not stop himself from smiling.

At an individual level, it was inspired. He has been waging a ferocious campaign in search of his maiden Ballon d’Or, and this was quite the final audition. Seeking to thwart Harry Kane at Monday night’s ceremony in London, Real Madrid’s No 10 produced the perfect flourish to remind the judges of his lightning reflexes, scoring his 13th and 14th goal in just 11 matches against Barcelona and highlighting his remarkable talent for peaking on the grandest stage.

But it also preserved José Mourinho’s enviable record in El Clásico. And though the manager might be deep into his seventh decade, he could not resist a knee slide to agitate the locals even further.

Even though it was his first appearance in this fixture since 2013, Mourinho found a way to sustain his antagonism of the Catalans. He is now on a run of four victories and two draws against Barcelona, emulating the six-game unbeaten streaks also enjoyed by Miguel Muñoz and Vicente del Bosque.

It was a surprise he did not sprint across the pitch in jubilation at the final whistle, as he memorably did while in charge of Inter Milan. For all that he has faded a touch from his pomp, this wiliest of veterans revels in his status as Barcelona’s eternal nemesis.

With Mourinho returning to this duel after a 13-year hiatus, a crackle of electricity was guaranteed. As usual, you could just not be sure how it would manifest itself. Projecting particular menace through his combination of black jacket and snowy-white beard, he did not take long to berate the officials, flapping histrionically at the decision to penalise Aurélien Tchouaméni for a robust challenge on teenager Xavi Espart.

“Mourinho, go to the theatre,” the Barcelona fans taunted, a chant they introduced after he accused a much younger Lionel Messi of diving in a Champions League game.

He might be more weathered at 63, but there is no disputing Mourinho’s appetite for the most exhilarating club confrontation in the world. A Clásico has changed appreciably from his heyday opposite Pep Guardiola: it is now a global entertainment expo, a magnet for influencers, with the cheapest tickets £300 and an estimated matchday revenue of £13.7m – two and a half times what a full house at Arsenal would generate.

And the Nou Camp, we should not forget, is still a building site, waiting for its enlargement to a planned 105,000 capacity in 2028. With the two starting XIs here offering a combined market value of more than £2.3bn, you can understand why no ambition is too outlandish.

Mbappé, rather than Lamine Yamal, was the phenom who came to the boil quickest. His strike was hardly the peak of craftsmanship, but true to form he was in the right position to capitalise as Gerard Martín flailed in attempting to clear Yan Diomande’s cross and instead smacked it straight against the Frenchman. Although he knew little about it, he savoured the celebration, recognising its auspicious timing on the eve of an award ceremony that has consumed him for months.

Real, in all honesty, were good value for their lead, having followed to the letter Mourinho’s time-honoured tactic of sitting back before pouncing on the counter-attack. Barcelona, perhaps lulled into complacency after nine league wins out of nine, looked unusually devoid of spark, with Hansi Flick stalking around his technical area angrily.

While Raphinha has been struggling to shake off an injury sustained on Brazil duty last month, it has not blunted his lethal edge. Just when his team were toiling, he carved out the breakthrough, seizing on a beautiful reverse pass by Pedri to angle a powerful finish beyond Andriy Lunin.

You could tell from Anthony Gordon’s reaction, whipping up the supporters in boyish excitement on his Clásico debut, that Barcelona were in the ascendant. It required an inspired save by Lunin, deputising in Thibaut Courtois’s absence because of a virus, to keep out Martín’s header moments later.

From there it became a Barcelona bombardment, with Yamal finding his footing and unfortunate to drag a left-footed shot just wide. He duly implored the crowd to increase the noise, while Real’s travelling band – enclosed in a section almost above the cloud line behind high mesh fencing – could barely bring themselves to watch.

But as Mbappé applied the exclamation point, finishing into an empty net after an impressive piece of work by Jude Bellingham in turning Gabriel Jesus inside out, they must have wondered what they were worried about.