It is not the first time that Real Madrid wore black, but it was the first time that they abandoned white to face Barça. I don’t think he would try again after a black, dark night, almost an abyss if it weren’t for the abyss he has in the rankings. The truth is that when marketing broke into the world of football, I thought that in Madrid they were going to have a terrible time, because they will tell me what the hell can be innovated if everything is white and pure and immaculate.
Teams that wear stripes or that have (different) colors on their shirts and pants can indulge in variations (a more oblique, wider or narrower stripes, different types of pantone, gradations of tonality), but Madrid – at the top in white – he could only afford a little French frieze on the sleeves or collar. But the second and third kits arrived and then the festival began, in such a way that we have seen the meringues stop being meringues to become blue, orange or purple. Or blacks. Which is the exact opposite of white, a very pure color too but less immaculate.
The black madridista
In 2013 Yohji Yamamoto arrived, hand in hand with Adidas and his Y-3 line, and imposed his own minimalist aesthetic, yes, with a two-headed dragon lord printed on the chest. Now, the Japanese, with his radical oriental bet, returned to the fray with more black, which is what he likes, and with a philosophy of three to a quarter that is one of the most pachanguera things I’ve ever read: “The collection channels the symbolic coalescence of dynamism and speed, seamlessly fusing sporting innovation with avant-garde aesthetics.” This is how they expressed themselves in Adidas to sell the madridista black of the Clásico. I don’t think they sell many units of the white disaster.
I publicly confess that I knew nothing about “coalescence” until today. Two vowels that touch are joined into a single vowel. Or two drops of a liquid, immersed in another with which it does not mix, tend to unite to become larger drops. That is to say: the Yin and the Yang, the conjunction of opposites, the union makes the force, or whatever they prefer to call the thing. All that for a t-shirt.
be who we were
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A Clásico was not going to be the same if the whites did not wear white and the azulgranas neither, but with the elastic that for Laporta and for many is patriotically vindictive. It wasn’t going to be, but what seemed like a meeting between unknown rivals, on the first spring afternoon even with a hint of winter, unexpectedly became, without having the emotional muscle ready, in a “desire to see you again”, in a “desire to go back to being who we were”.
The coalescence was not put by Yamamoto, but by a Barça that, as Lineker wrote, “are back in business”. It’s back, fusing the pressure, the touch, the resolve, the drive, the class. Fat drops fell at the Bernabéu.