The relationship of many Barcelona fans with their club already resembles a nostalgic tango. I am not talking about members, since, honestly, it is beyond my modest understanding what it is like to be a member of a club that goes from showing off Unicef on its shirt to selling VIP boxes to millionaires of satrapies, without anything happening. In the end it will turn out that it is true that Barça is just a company. Family, that is, run by friends and palmeros. And the partners just want the benefits to come to them, neules and turrons and a title from time to time. If so, maybe we should start to care less about what happens or not to that club that once was something more than a club, in the same way that a closeness could become the great love of our life.
Enrique Santos Discépolo is the author who makes me remember the relationship of disaffection, shame of others, ethical bankruptcy that is the club of my life and that of my ancestors. His first success was precisely the tango Tonight I get drunk which the singer Azucena Maizani premiered in the theater but was popularized by Carlos Gardel. The arrabalero plot is when the protagonist of the tango meets an old love from his youth who is a result of a bad life and bad decisions: “Alone, fané, relaxed, I saw her this morning/leaving a cabaret, skinny, two quarters of the neck / and a hanger in the neckline under the apple.” There is more. This is a tango, this is the love for which you lost your head, what it has become: “His nakedness, he looked like a plucked rooster.” The protagonist, the amateur, virile but sensitive, can’t take it anymore, turns his head to avoid crying.
In the end it will turn out that it is true that Barça is just a company, run by friends and palmeros
But the best thing in this type of songs and relationships – for another human being, for your club, for your country – is the torn self-analysis that one, in one’s lucidity, can do. And Discépolo –Discepolín for those of the guild– does it: “And to think that ten years ago it was my madness/that I went as far as to betray it because of its beauty/that this thing that today is a rubble/was the sweet mistake where I lost my honor” . From there the gloss of things that the singer/narrator did for someone who is not worth it or worth it is biblical: he took food from his own mother, lost friends, knelt down, lived as a beggar and other examples of the Buenos Aires self-flagellation. The lesson is that it is time’s revenge and that it is best to get drunk so as not to think. They were other times. Today it is enough for us to change platforms or follow the news and see if Donald Trump, instead of Greenland, buys the mountain of Montjuïc and Joan Laportus T. Firefly, as president of Libertonia, gets the record of two players by selling boxes and two hard-boiled eggs to millionaires from those kingdoms that are so kind to the rights of women, homosexuals, immigrants and other non-member entities.
#Tonight #drunk #Carlos #Zanón
