2023-05-25 13:20:43
My story with music I believe has not yet been told here, but it exists and persists. Of everything I started and later gave up on, the only thing that remained unshakable was this illness with Internacional and my particular taste for compositions, festivals and occasionally some uplifting singing. In short, if the music is good I’ll allow myself a whistle and maybe even a hum. It is a pity that the good ones are not as many as in my good times.
Once, in some presentations around the state of Santa Catarina, the member of the group (my friend/karma until today) insisted on going along. He had already been on the cover of the album just for that, behold, even to speak he was out of tune. They hid the tambourine such was the lack of rhythm in their pathetic attempts to prove themselves useful. The problem of the living being is that he thought he knew not only how to play or murder singing a hit by Pedro Ortaça, the great Cenair or old Gildo, but how to do anything. Any same. Including driving the bus.
And in this one of driving the bus, after the last fandango and with everyone dead, he who spent three or four days just guessing, presented himself to bring the people back. Everyone was against it, but fatigue prevailed. And the living being came bringing that warrior Mercedão, with some sleeping and I, with a chill in my spine, just in the beak of that indiada. To make matters worse, Lobo didn’t have a license to drive a bus; and it was because of this that what happened next happened.
At one of the many road police stations along the BR 101 that still have a single lane, either Lobo (Taura’s nickname) kind of fell asleep at the wheel or really shaved, or both – I don’t know, I just know that he drove by taking all of them with him. the cones that divided the directions of the highway, causing damage to the treasury. Instead of stopping, he touched his foot and walked a few more kilometers, even with me saying the opposite to stop dragging those cones and everything else that was ‘clinging’ to the bus.
As only he “knew” what and how to do it, he broke down on the side of the road and when he found an overpass he ended up there, turned off the engine, turned off all the lights and thought he had “fooled” the police with the “hiding place”. I wish it were. Not even 5 minutes later, there were two vehicles surrounding the bus, the turn-flash on, the order to get off and my certainty that someone was going to dance in that story and it wasn’t going to be with the band playing.
The “driver” took over the situation, said he would solve it, spent a long time talking to the police, gave them a disc, a T-shirt and everything with our brand on it, promised who knows what else in the middle of that pitch black sky. We were released (with the bus) only by God himself. In short: we returned home safe and sound, but a short time later the fines arrived for several traffic violations recorded that morning. Yes, it didn’t help talk and everything else promoted by Lobo, we take it the same way.
If all the profit was gone, which was already little. The bill for that presepada arrived. She always arrives.
The maintenance bill for Mano Menezes, despite the canned speech and the talk President’s row, will arrive. Internacional and us fans, even though we are not the ones to blame, will take the brunt of it.
In football, the bill always arrives. And the ball, maleva, knows how to punish.
May God have mercy on us!
SHORTS
– About today’s match, against an amateur team, it was supposed to take about ten goals off. But, we close through to zero. It’s kind of a rout in these dark times;
– Inter is too big to insist on a player who is visibly unable to play. I don’t even need to say what they are. Yes, it’s quite plural;
– Bustos used to walk around with the missing football. Now even himself has disappeared.
– In history there are some things that only happen with Internacional. Haunting type;
– The speech that the players are closed with the coach sticks with me just like when Lobo swore that the police had understood and accepted the sad story he told;
– I still want to go to Venezuela one day. They say it has paradisiacal beaches. Football is to cry, but who cares…;
-I won’t say anything more about Barcellos. It’s the popular raining in the wet that only gets tired. And at my age avoiding fatigue is the best medicine for achieving peace. Peace that so much our fans ask for.
QUESTION
How long are they going to play with Inter like this?
Colorado fan, I repeat myself: May God have mercy on us!
PACHECO
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