The weight of purple

by time news

Barcelona has Pedri, PSG has Messi and Madrid has… History, which, in the end, everyone has agreed on: PSG was passed over by the history of Madrid, and that with the Bernabeu under construction. As Pla said looking at the New York of the scaffolding, what will the day it opens be like?

Clubs, like nations, are made by history, and not the other way around. Real Madrid has a history… “that fills the eye” (an expression used by Míchel to say how much Mbappé fills him). With what it costs to win a European ciborium, the footballer who goes to the Bernabéu and sees thirteen on the shelf

comes down. It is the weight of purple, which Foxá said of North America: the sorrow of empire and command.

-This life, said Santa Teresa, is a short night in a bad inn. The Americans believe that neither the night is so short nor the inn so bad.

History is written at night, it is a saying that alludes to bed. Going over Castro’s “history will absolve me”, Cabrera Infante discovered that, for the father of history, a Greek branded as a storyteller, history was “a whore who slept in Procrustes’ bed”: long legs, bad; short legs, worse. “History is fun,” was Ortega’s conclusion. The hilarious Greek begins his story with the story of Candaules, a vain king who laments that only he fully knows the beauty of his queen, for whom he wants to be envied. He proposes to his prime minister, Gyges, to hide behind a curtain, from where he can see the queen bathing naked, but she sees his feet, which stick out, and tells him: «You have two ways to atone for your offense ; or die, or kill the king and marry me. Gyges decides in a flash and becomes the founder of the dynasty that will end with Croesus. History, then, is always written by those who win.

To understand the weight of history, you have to go to the book of those who don’t read books, which is the cinema, and listen in ‘Unforgiven’ to the rant given to some rednecks by the murderer Bob the English (Richard Harris) on the train, on the way to Big Whiskey, in Wyoming, explaining how difficult it is, because of the majesty that radiates, to shoot a queen, and how simple, on the other hand, it is to shoot a president.

“We are the Kings of Europe” was the pipero chant at the Bernabéu, the drum roll for the execution of the new rich Parisians.

PSG is the football branch of what is known as ‘European elites’, who want to finally realize the goal of the French Jacobins, to start history anew, and a historic Real Madrid undid their dream in a trice after.

–I’m tired of this team that always loses –the French racket player Yannick Noah lamented publicly, after the ‘débâcle’ at the Bernabéu.

If you have to be very laser to get the flu in the ‘Coviz’ pandemic, PSG was the supreme laser at the Bernabéu, and its railing only needs to try Guardiola on the bench, the man who for many Spaniards put Ukraine on the map when he signed Chigrynsky.

Pochettino, the man who lives surrounded by lemons to ward off bad luck, even had against Providence, who sided with Madrid with the card, in Paris, Casemiro, who prevented his alignment in Madrid, because we would not have seen Valverde and Camavinga together, who by pushing the team up (Casemiro pushes it down) made possible the Vinicius-Modric-Benzema storm that made PSG’s guard lose his head like we haven’t seen since the days of Martínez Laredo in the Burgos: in a Burgos-Barcelona match at ‘El Plantío’, the referee Fernández Quirós awarded a penalty against Burgos and a gentleman wearing a Russian hat jumped onto the field to object to the braid (as they said then). He was the president of Burgos. Fernández Quirós unleashed a jab and a ‘lineman’, as Bilardo would say, hit him with the pennant (always a pennant in between!) on the head. The penalty was shot by Cruyff against the stump of the post (as it was also called then), and after a few years the referee and the footballer met at an airport and the footballer explained to the referee that he deliberately took the penalty against the post because, having marked it, they would not have left the stadium alive. Laredo owes Madrid the gift of Juan Gómez Juanito (how much would Juanito cost today, in a Juanito-Benzema-Vinicius?), who was sold to Barcelona, ​​to pave the way to the Madrid presidency.

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