When we were palmary, there was a time when the cameras focused on Caparrós, and I felt an unstoppable desire to hug him. If he had been in the field, near him, he would have brought him a hot broth and a blanket. This man, I thought, with everything … That carries, do you really need this? Of course, nothing can be done against Sevillist disease, that fucking pathology that leads one, for example, to sacrifice a great Thursday afternoon to transfer snails and beers for a new day of fatiguer league.
With the death of the Holy Father and the imminent Vatican conclave, the sloping ones are fashionable. The closest, chromatically speaking, to the mightest of the Church in Spanish LaLiga are the Reds of Osasuna. They had to decide if there would be finally for Sevilla Fumata Blanca, after a painful succession of black smoking that brings us along the street of bitterness. But the reddish thing became very reddish with the expulsion of Lukebakio in the 32nd minute. Two red, in fact, they decided the game. The first was consumed, the second was withdrawn after review of the VAR. And both defined pristinely the lack of relevance and entity that this Seville has ended up acquiring among the Spanish football levels. The first card to Lukebakio should not have been red at all. The referee was attached to the play, and no doubt led him to go to VAR. The second red card to Osasunista Ibáñez also took the referee very close to the fault, but this time he wanted to check it in the monitors. This second was not red either, but at first, when lifting the cardboard, it seemed as if the referee had wanted to compensate for his resounding first pifia. From the VAR, however, they had to convince him that this second did deserve rectification. A stubborn and a shamelessness with Sevilla, by the tremendous comparative grievance that would be unthinkable in another club that the referees still keep the respect.
With a red since the 32nd minute, and losing from the 25th minute, little could do Sevilla, or rather this Seville. It was only chosen to turn red into an emblem of value, as Stephen Crane left written in that famous and unforgettable war novel. A novel that was an allegation against fear. But the reality is that Sevilla, until the break, was conducted as a headless chicken, without being very clear about what to do, where to run, how to react.
Caparrós appeared in the Sadar with a somewhat surprising eleven. With elections, such as Diego Hormigos of title, quite disconcerting. Juanlu was put from the end, already sow, from Mediapunta to the baptist. It must be difficult to try to innovate when one goes so short of ingredients; It’s like daring with the Nouvelle Cuisine without having anything other than chickpeas and potatoes in the pantry. In the second half, he continued testing ideas. And one of the most successful was to take Garcia Pascual, with whom the coach should count more for the remainder of the League. Other changes, such as Suso or little, arrived too late. In any case, we cannot say that Sevilla will love one less player. He had up to three quite clear occasions – I was exhausted, very clearly – in two corner kicks.
But the game had, from very soon, a red color. A color, which, I’m afraid, is not going to leave Seville in the remainder of the season. In full maturity, the abstract painter Mark Rothko, known for his monochromatic creations, created the one that is considered one of his peak works: light red over dark red. From that pantone, I fear, we are not going to leave until LaLiga ends. And much eye: now the Leganés touches us. That, by the way, he did the tie playing with one less.
#red #live
