Tuesday, October 4

Meek liquid without character

We could call it “Theory of unbroken water”, which is what happens with sparkling water when it has been open for a while. As much as you tighten the cap, as much as you screw it in, as much as you try to maintain the initial fizz, in the end – and you don’t know how (some scientific theory there must be), the bubbles go away, they tend to disappear, and then the water. it becomes something that is not just bubbles or water, but quite the opposite, a kind of gentle liquid without character. That’s what happened to him Barça in one of those sunsets so artistic and so colorful, typical of a December that seems to mount a theatrical diorama in the sky. It almost seemed made to order, but the truth is that the sunset of Barcelona he dyed Barça, and he did it at the same time Dembélé jumped into the field. Another theory, the “Heavenly Paint Palette Theory.”

This spectacle of clouds combined in such a way, with the declining sunlight, that they show us a magical setting, lasts a few minutes. It arrives unexpectedly and, in a very short time, vanishes, before the imminence of darkness. An optical illusion. East Barça He is pulling as he can, like water that loses gas and as late as it dies polychrome in the twilight. That is to say, it is exciting at times (when it still maintains the initial bubbling, when the clouds still imitate a Turner), but then everything becomes liquid without personality and a closed night. It occurs with the first electricity of Abd, with the celestial irruption of Dembelé, with the few flashes of Coutinho, with the rotundity of Memphis. Before long, they all vanish.

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Mirage, illusion

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A friend writes to me after the game and says: “Not even UEFA”, and another tells me that the problem is the Champions 22-23, “Is what worries me now.” It is written that this season we will have to settle for the European League, because the Bavarians are not exactly Betic, and with these saddlebags think about winning in Munich It is nonsense or an act of blind faith, irrational, but the worst thing is that, at this point, we lose at home with a direct rival to enter Europe, I mean in the “UEFA” of 22-23.

The gala of Golden Ball Monday was a mirage, because we believed we were seeing what we were not really seeing. The Barça in weight taking the top positions, the best of the young, Messi triumphing with the seventh. As in those glorious times. But it was the Female barça (majestic, dominating, yes, of course, with Alexia putellas clad in an uncomfortable ball gown), Pedri He was injured and the Argentine, with his own Dalton brothers in the form of children dressed in sequins, the poor things, was playing in Paris. Mirage, illusion. This Tuesday, we will live in Bavaria the polar cold of a winter that is already here. Reality, bloody reality.


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