Last update 27 May, 2022 by Alberto Llopis
Returning to the terrifying normality of full stores, plastic oceans and televised wars, Some habits like face-to-face work return, the rise of the Euribor or seeing Madrid qualified for the Champions League final. This time, say the natives of Concha Espina, it was the most exciting in history. Go over the keel to Qatar Saint Germain, al petrorublo blue, y finalmente, contradicting all the axioms of space-time, to the Emirate of Pep, with a comeback in three minutes that didn't seem to be happening beyond our own minds, They are paranormal events that need an explanation.
According to Diego Chula, a Madrid-Hanoite couturier, viking and intelligent like Modric in small spaces, everything is explained by the shield theory: t-shirts weigh, and that weight pounces you to victory. It doesn't matter if you put the best players, the most brilliant tactics and the most visionary coach if there is no shield in front of him that supports him and drags everything. On the contrary, if you put together four murdered people punished for life and put on them a historical mesh, sea del bavaria, del Liverpool o del Madrid, your chances of victory are multiplied by a thousand. That's why, and always based on Diego's paradigm, a very small number of teams concentrate the majority of finals and titles throughout history.
Until now, debo decir, the theory seemed like a chestnut to me. I was sure that once a party started, the footballers went for everything, creyéndose los mejores y sintiéndose capaces de ganar a cualquiera, wear whatever shirt you wear. Maybe, and this is basic, because I'm from Racing de Santander, and I've been seeing that mud-stained shield for years and without weighing too much on the Second B fields.
However, este año, Diego's theory seems true. The shield of Madrid weighs tons. Its purple and republican stripe, that never belonged to Franco or the galacticos, but of Paquita and José, humble neighbors of Cuatro Caminos and partners of Madrid since the Bernabéu kicked Millán Astray out of the stadium, he thinks he is invincible. It's not about being the best, not even feeling the best, the decisive thing is that the others, your rivals, see the shield on your chest and assume that whoever wins wins, you are the best. and there, in that exchange of glances to the heart, Madrid is a tsunami.
A giant wave, unstoppable, that as much as you try to surf it, it ends up gobbling you up with its centers in the pot, the filtered passes to a hole that never existed, and the mowed in plow mode making a furrow in the lawn, to levitate an audience in permanent San Vito dance, while the commentator faints with emotion and the coach of the opposing team resigns himself to falling without having a damn idea how to stop a team whose only strategy is to win.
In any case, say what Diego says, and despite what the shield weighs, here we are all freaking out a little about the Madridista DNA. Because teams with blind faith in victory have kicked them: Kosecki's Atleti lifted the games against Cruyff and Romario's Barsa in fifteen minutes, and years later, it was Nazario and Pizzi who ruined Pantic's four goals at the Camp Nou. In 2005, Liverpool was the only one who continued to believe they could conquer Istanbul while Maldini was already lifting the Cup, and more recently, it was the sublime Neymar DNA who hung it so that Sergi Roberto would do the impossible; and how are you, thousands of comebacks, confirming that believing until the end is not copyright del Madrid, that Juventus itself also has as its motto "Until the end", although then Villareal eliminated them without almost disheveled. Somos nosotros, los aficionados, those of us who create and grow these ideas, because we like it, because we are interested, as in other areas of life, where the coat of arms in family heraldry, status and lineage determine your life, but as much as a good education and a good inheritance make it easy for you to do beautiful things, it is also important that others believe you capable of achieving them.
Apart, y por encima de todo, esto es solo fútbol, the most common drug, a little party of the banal that we have set up to taste the taste of glory. That's all. None of the players we cheer for have ever cheered for us. Nor does the shield feel anything for anyone, but we decided to love a piece of cloth to be able to feel part of something bigger than our own existence. That's why, creo yo, We are so ashamed to confess to someone outside of football how vital and necessary the Champions League is to us, because the less important it is, more gives us to live.
I wanted to tell all this to Diego, because I have always liked to share the exciting things in life, the songs of Chico Buarque, Karim and Rodrygo's goals. Besides, This Saturday I turn forty and I just became a dad, so I need to believe in his theory of the shirts so that Madrid gave me a fascinating day. But I won't be able to. Since little bit, o muchito, I do not know anymore, because every day hurts the same, Diego was left lying on the field of play. The shield would weigh a lot, can be, but in the middle of pachanga his heart stopped. And there we all die a little.
All but his theory, that came to life, and then her friends we began to believe her more than ever and mention her to other people as if she were ours, and the bitch began to feel like the best theory in the world to explain what was happening to this Madrid from Carletto, where Benzema is Zeus and Courtois looks like Poseidon, where the final minutes turn the players into mythological beings, and the biggest lies in history: Real Madrid DNA, 9/11, or the microchip of Kill Gates, become absolute truths, indiscutibles. Probably, es la vida, who feels so ashamed of her own cruelty, that he has not found a better way to apologize to Yaguito, Diego's little son, what to give him this Champions, and thus be able to go up to the Cibeles to remind us of the importance of the shield on the shirt.