It occurred to me to say in an interview that journalism tends to give itself more importance than it really has, an ordinary phrase that an old reader later made ugly for me. As the last thing I would want in this mature stage of my life is to annoy an old reader, especially with how expensive a kilo of old reader is today, I take advantage of this column to assert here and now that I have never said that Please, it was all a perverse invention of the interviewer. Although, all things considered, and taking into account that this old reader is also an old journalist, the fact that he was bothered by that phrase about journalism that I supposedly said in my interview, in a way, would prove me right. But not.
Journalism is not a trade like the others, journalism is the best. I’m working on the newspaper, my mother calls me on the phone and I don’t care what time it is: I reject the call. If she insists and calls me back three or four times, I still soften up and answer her, but I make it very clear: ‘let’s see, mom, don’t you know that this journalism thing is super important? An old reader tells me a lot. Don’t you know mom that I’m saving democracy? Let’s see if you think that democracy is made by itself. Democracy has to be done’. I tell my mom that, hang up, and then edit a press release from the Deputation the of Marina d’Or.
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This responsibility that we journalists have is not easy to bear, as you can imagine. There are days that I leave home to work and my children say goodbye to me in tears in the doorway, as if a spaceship were waiting for me in the parking lot. They know that I am a man with a serious mission: to improve humanity. My little son still doesn’t know much about it, the poor ignorant, and he often asks me where I’m going. ‘Where am I going, son? Wake up at once, I’m going to save democracy. To the coffee machine, to print e-mails and to save democracy’. When I come back at night after another hard but successful day at work, I put dinner in the microwave. While the food is heating up, I sit in a chair, sigh, watch the summaries of the matches on my mobile and say to myself ‘well, well, nothing, EnriqueThat’s it, another day to save democracy’.
The matter was even more tiresome when I was dedicated to sports journalism. That was sensational. At the end of the 2014/15 season, for example, my team lost a promotion promotion. Just after the match, while we were typing the last lines of the reports, a man approached the press desks and told us ‘you’ll be happy, you’ve already achieved it’. I didn’t have enough with what was mine that on top of that the responsibility for the defeat was ours, that saving democracy is almost better. The guy clearly overrated us and gave us a few epithets. However, three years later, when my team finally got promoted, I didn’t see that man appear in the press area, whatever he was. Maybe he forgot or maybe it turns out that that day we didn’t get anything. Just in case, I spent the next few days updating the savings account application, to see if the club would give me a bonus for the supposed merits, but neither. If I go back to football and my mother calls me, I’ll pick up the phone.