Soccer in a boiler | sports

Crowds that play. Simeone stoked the fire so that the Wanda was a boiler. It would have been fair for the next day to schedule a bath and massage session for the 70,000 fans who were killed to resist the 1 to 0. At the end of the Klopp match, impacted by the “difficult environment,” he said: “We will tell you, welcome to Anfield. ” The phrase caused me the same terror as when, in The silence of the lambs, Hannibal Lecter receives Clarice in his cell, combed like a communion and with an angelic gesture that, we knew, hid a brutal serial killer. Never two football matches will owe the environment so much because, for Atlético and Liverpool, the breath is the oxygen they need to squeeze their football. Athletic fans, do not relax with the bath and massage, that in Anfield there are already 55,000 crazy people warming up.

Singular talents. Papu Gómez, Atalanta player, is underestimated as a child, he is admired as intelligent and is loved because it is easy to see that his game and his words drip love for football. This week he told Diego Torres that “with a gambeta a world opens up” and he is more right than a saint. Talent has a capacity for synthesis and dribbling expresses that gift as no other action. In the antipodes is Erling Haaland, the feeling of the moment as a scoring machine. Its height rises to 1.94 and its way to feast is to have a gazelle body, but the power of a buffalo and the predatory mind of a panther. His ability to synthesize is to pass over the rivals until the goal appears on the horizon. Excitation that makes it intelligent, precise and, apparently, infallible.

Valencia has a bargain. That speed every day has more daring to be adorned with amagues and rhythm changes; that body, still unfinished, lacks fear when it faces to make the revolution; that head, always raised, thinks about harmful things (for its rivals) every time it touches the ball. And one wants Ferran to have the ball to know more about this growing talent and to survive the passion for authentic football. Because the game, which demoralizes us with tactical mistakes, that bores us with systematized movements, that runs more and thinks less every day, needs rebels who claim their prominence and make an attractive scribble on what the coach drew on the board. Football lives on emotion, but if we are addictive it is because different players renew our love for the game. In Spain one is growing and it is called Ferran.

What the court warns the street. Soccer, as a game, has the generosity to admit everyone. Football, as a popular phenomenon, likes the poor and the rich. Soccer, as a cultural field, builds bridges with society. But in football, as in every passion territory, greatness and misery fit. And this week the misery forced us to ask ourselves: “What is happening to Europe with racism?” This time Portugal was shaken by an odious episode suffered by Marega, a Porto player who, outside himself, left the field for racist insults. Neither the referee nor the rivals nor even the teammates themselves lived up to it, probably because they are more prepared to defend the show than the humiliated dignity of a colleague. Watch out for football, because what screams the emotion in the anonymity of the stands, is what agitates the brains of citizenship. And at any moment the monster ends up hovering in more “civilized” places than a stadium.

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