In football you always have to try to win for the same reason that in life you have to try to be kind to everyone: just in case. The League of Nations that Spain is playing is quite lazy, it matters rather little and even bothers, but who knows if in a couple of decades it will be a super-prestigious competition, a great tournament, and we want to brag about it. Who knows if in the next century children will go to bed every night fantasizing about winning a League of Nations – the fucking League of Nations, the challenge of heroes, the dream of champions! Who knows if one day it will be the greatest thing in football to win the Doña League of Nations for your country. That’s why you have to try to win it now, even if it doesn’t motivate anything, and that’s why in football you always have to try to win, because you never know. Because yes and just in case.
Sometimes it is not so much a question of looking for the good but rather probability. Just in case you also have to treat everyone in a kind way. Because you don’t know if your desk mate will later be President of the Government, and it is better not to have traumatized the future President of the Government at school. Because you don’t know if that lady looking at you is really your mother’s friend, and you sure don’t want to upset your mother. Because you don’t know if this text will read it one day Enric González, and you will not dare to disappoint Enric González. Because you never know who you’re talking to, who you’ll have to ask for something one day or who you’re messing with, that’s why you have to give your best and be friendly all the time. Just in case.
The ‘just in case’ is a very valid attitude on a daily basis and nobody is going to convince me otherwise. Last week the best quarries in Spain met close to home. I summarize the mechanics of what the tournament of promises was for me: in the morning they were eliminated and in the afternoon I found them on the beach. Right next to our towels the fry of the Athletic de Bilbao to play a pachanga. I was playing a little game with my son, the typical game of drawing lines in the wet sand and setting up the goals with the flip-flops. I noticed that the Athletic coaches were settling in just ten meters away, so I did what I had to do, just in case and just to be silly, in this case.
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I straightened my back and went to the edge to fiddle with the ball, dribbling with style and scoring goal after goal for my poor son, who didn’t understand a thing. I even did the Mark Lenders in Oliver and Benji, throwing the ball hard into the waves, squinting and making an interesting face as he watched it come back. She didn’t care that I’m no longer a youngster by a long shot. He didn’t care Athletic I only signed Navarrese and Basques. It didn’t matter if my son got angry and threatened to cry. Imagine that I manage to impress the coaches, they take out a pen and paper and offer me a contract right there. on the sand of Benicàssim and on a hot Saturday afternoon, you had to give everything, just in case.
Anyway. This little column culminates my particular season, which doesn’t even sign me Athletic I don’t even play the League Of Nations, that he is well from so much work. Perhaps, because you never know, they should read it as if it were the last ever, the final column in this corner. Because if. Just in case.