Mbapp, chapter 622, year three. The player wants to break free from the gold chains, but Al-Khelaifi, the son of the pearl fisherman, tightens the knot. The sheikh smiles and diamonds and rubies flow from his mustache. Until now Florentino was the magician of the great signings (Figo, Cristiano, Zidane, Beckham), it was another time, when he looked down on anyone. Now look down here
You know if it gets cool they’ll bury it in dollars. But money is everything in life only for those who do not have it, as Wilde said, and Mbapp thinks of something that Real Madrid has that cannot be bought: the legend. Chapter 623. Mbapp arrives in Madrid. End of the soap opera. Or Mbappe stays in Paris. The soap opera continues.
The old aristocracy
In football there are new divisions, although like everything in life, it is still a story of rich and poor. What happens now is that if the poor are what they have always been, wanting and not being able, dream and nightmare, the rich have been divided between those who are mounted on the dollar and those who are only rich, but not overwhelming. . Some sweat gold, those three that mean cologne and shit emeralds and almost the entire Premier. These because their league has known how to charge more than anyone, unlike ours, for a long time with more football but fewer ideas. Others handle debt. Bara and Madrid now represent an old aristocracy that runs the risk of living off memories. Hopefully not.
Ancelotti the Good
One of the good things about Ancelotti, and he has many, is that almost everyone, if not everyone, likes him. He has something of Zidane, something of Vicente Del Bosque and much of his, because in many tasks he is a teacher, such as dealing with the press, not violating the club, putting a chilli in the ass of some players, canceling yawns, recovering offal and fill the tactics and lineups with good sense and saucy. Life has been fair with Ancelotti, since I remember that I was not the only one who protested when he was fired, and now Florentino’s designs, always inscrutable, have repaired the error, welcome. Ancelotti is, as Antonio Machado said of himself, a good man, in the good sense of the word good, clarify.
The referee, gunman
Oscar Wilde said in the chronicle of his trip to the US that they took him to a dance hall, and on a piano he saw this notice: “Please do not shoot the pianist: he does the best he can.” “Woody is here,” thinking of the Sheriff from Toy Story, said a spectator in Honduras as the referee walked across the field with a pistol drawn to quell an uproar. The braid was cool for the green shooting at the ground, looking at the respectable, puffing out his chest, showing that by being able to shoot why he was going to take a red from anyone. The players, scared, fled from him. “How are the referees …”, said a spectator not surprised by this very little fortuitous fact.