Forward flight

I was so calm watching Spain win in Greece when suddenly all the fears assailed me. Fear of being tied in a stupid and unfortunate play, fear of losing against Sweden on the last day and fear of falling in the play-offs and being out of the World Cup for the first time in decades. Soon I also went from fear to panic: panic that my son will disengage from football due to the absence of Spain in the next World Cup. I was so calm until I got nervous, I mean, unable to help myself. I was so calm and they took me by the hand. I was so calm until I stopped being so, because of the nonsense of football, as it has happened to me so many times.

And because. I thought that these defects were cured as an adult, but it turns out not. Turns out I take all the shit out of adult life and get paid for it. I accept that of working, getting up early and being responsible, okay, I even accept getting old and constantly paying for things, I accept going out to party once a quarter and needing a week to recover. I accept everything with a sense of duty and without complaining, but then why do I still get a pimple from time to time, as if I were in puberty, then why am I still ashamed to meet people and then, and above all, why Suddenly I suffer from football as if it were 1993 and I was still ten years old.

‘Emosido’ deceived.

I do not know if this happens only to me or is something common and people hide it, and what they call maturity does not directly exist. Likewise, nobody knows anything and there are only forward escapes. Same the important thing is that it seems that you know.

“Everything controlled”

The important thing is the attitude, it seems. The last time I went to football, a rival took the ball off of him after a corner. It was the typical punt that does not escape out of the band, but it does not go down the baseline either. The typical seemingly innocent clearance that can get complicated. In coverage, our defense had all the advantage in the world, around 30 meters of margin. In the distance we saw a forward from the opposing team accelerating like a buffalo, but our defense remained calm, approaching the ball whistling, carefree and trotting. On the other hand, the murmur grew in the stands, but our defense continued to do its thing. In the stands the rumble of ‘take care, we will still make it’ flourished, but our defense distilled the right attitude, in plan ‘Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing, I have everything under control’.

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A second passed and then another, and then three or four and each time with less margin. The rival was getting closer and closer and the ball more and more bordering, in a dangerous area, but our defense did not flinch. Our defense waited to have the rival glued, right in front, to rudely clear a throw-in, which almost took the ball out of the stadium. What he did bring out in the stands was disbelief and laughter. We were all looking at each other, as if saying ‘for this, I don’t know’, if I had half an hour to spare, I could have done something else, could have cleared earlier, could have gone faster … how did it end like this the play if he knew what he was doing, if he had everything under control.

We think so, but no. It just seemed like it. He had the attitude. I had the only adult solution we know to our fears and ills: the forward kick / flight.

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