FOOTBALL, SOLO FOOTBALL | KienyKe

I’m a die-hard football fan. I say it without blushing. I have strong feelings when the national teams face each other, as is happening this week, or when there are great games anywhere on earth.

When the level of the show rises or when the emotions are at a fever pitch, it does not matter where or the characteristics of the competitors in contention, on luxurious grass or on a neighborhood court.

Things are decorated with a wrinkled mark, whether it’s with a shoulder or a buttock. And what to say if it is with skills that are typical of the sacred, the taquito, the mock chilena or the hypnotic, from the corner we always call Olympic.

Vaseline to the squad, a devastating missile, a poisoned volley, or a last-minute own goal that is viewed with suspicion or fear.

That’s my football. The one who “fears silence”, the one who punishes with insults, especially when there is no commitment.

I love discussing football yesterday, today, or the one to come. About Ronaldinho, who minimized the unruliness of the ball with his juggling and brought joy to the people with his pyrotechnics.

Also “Poetic Justice” which, from elevated microphones, is an eternal extension of the glories of famous artists on the big stages, in the stadiums, remembering feats, boasting of technique or memorable victories.

How wonderful are the announcers and commentators who see the party on the field, in the stands, and who do not flood with closing and destructive scandals outside the stadiums.

They are autumnal, maybe tantrums, but watching the ball roll I don’t let myself be depressed. Impossible. Despite the turmoil in the management of desks and whistles. I don’t have tattoos, I’d look grotesque, I think I’ve already seen everything I see on the courts, even the traps. I adapt to the reggaeton and flirt with the tik-tok generation

I follow with devotion the movements of the market, the powerful leagues in their extension and the number of matches that the Colombian tournament organizes.

I do not allow myself the absurd comparison of our football with European football and I become a follower of those teams in which Colombian footballers play.

I am critical, but not destructive, and I do not fight, and I do not deal with prejudices. It doesn’t make sense.

So, far from frivolity and the culture of simplicity, which is the subject of the wild world in which I live, I prefer a ball in dynamic movement, a technical or elementary footballer, than an empty, idiotic reality show, where’ the muscles stand out and become. exhausted the thoughts. Everything is scripted like that. It’s rubbish TV.

I’m just worried that any idiot, with a microphone in his hand or with a whistle in his mouth, will be called a teacher, the slow demise of art will be made into a game, crushed by results and business, and that damn algorithm appears one day. which correctly predicts the results. It will inevitably put an end to this beautiful scene.