Oliver and Angel they want to be in the yard, rallying, Benzema or Vinicius, although they play like Casemiro, and they talk about Classic of this Sunday in the Camp Nou with the passion of Tomás Roncero. Ángel points to 0-5, but Oliver feels sorry for Barcelona’s grandfather, and lowers the prognosis. If he plays Ansu Fati this afternoon in the heat of the Barcelona fans, he tells his friend, 1-3 is safer. The friend resigns, okay, 1-3. How have they been reducing? Oliver insists on the Ansu Fati factor, but it is clear that he does not want to depress Grandpa. The 0-5 comes from the most recent result of his team, while the 1-3 takes into account the rival team’s game against him. Valencia, there they played as if they knew. But before him Dynamo of Kiev …, Says Angel. What a tremendous boredom that European night. Not Ansu Fati!
They are both ten years old, in the small court they grow older, as if they were broadcasting a final and they were part of the winning team. The illusion of winning in that exhibition that faces them is a metaphor for what they expect to happen this afternoon. I watch them play and at some point I get infected by what they say, and I imagine them dressed as Barca, explaining to each other plays that perhaps were of Ladislao Kubala or from Pep Guardiola, but, what goes, they are remembering footballers of now, and all of them are dressed in white.
So I go back to my old album, and I immerse myself in deeds achieved by my idols years ago, when the football I love was transitive, the beautiful picture of Luis Suarez scanning the horizon, the ball reaching the head of Evaristo, and a watch that looked perfect like a recent watch. I closed the album and went back to the patio, where Angel and Oliver were sharpening weapons. Now until Hazard he joined the party they were waiting for, and he was the one who marked the third. It was still not clear that Ansu marked the one of honor. Who knows. I dream something else, because of the album.
#Passion #prognosis #young #children