We still live under the influence of the shock of the Champions League semi-finals. Whoever tells me no, lies. Perhaps the players who jumped into the effusive did not have it in mind Benito Villamarin, but the spectators who watched that match can, yes. We still had in our minds the uproar of those 89 seconds, the confirmation of the fate that accompanies them and that was perfectly defined by our colleague Fermín de la Calle: “The miracle as a tactic”. It doesn’t matter what they play and who they play against. “They” they win like that, and Madrid’s unusual, unreal, non-human comeback is what comes closest to the definition of a miracle.
There is a fundamental film in the history of cinema (Ordet, by Carl Theodor Dreyer) in which two Danish Protestant pastors rightly discuss the validity of miracles. One, the most conservative, defends them, because he says they are a direct intervention of divine grace. Another, more open, but more rooted in the essence of Lutheranism, says no, that a miracle is an attack against the course of nature and, therefore, against its Creator. At the end of the film he must give up, because he himself witnesses the emergence of a miracle, that of the resurrection.
in another galaxy
But this is not a theological chronicle, but a sports one. And on Wednesday, in the Bernabeu, it was shown that the resurrection is possible and, even more, it is probable, if we are talking about Madrid. she confessed Rodrygo Silva de Goes: “God looked at me and said: It’s your day.” Given this, there is little to do. If you have divinity so close to you, let it run. At the end of the match, a friend, Joan Bosch, professor of Art History, wrote to me: “Perhaps the best philosophy was that of my father. He was a thoughtful fisherman who reached, by himself, one of the milestones of German idealism: in the last years of his life he maintained that Madrid did not exist & rdquor ;.
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In fact, it is what Barça has been preaching for a long time Xavi, if we put aside the mirage of that March 0-4. Madrid lives in another galaxy in which miracles are admitted as everyday. They are part of everyday life. And they fight, this Barça, in a universe of losers where an in extremis qualification for the Champions League is enthusiastically celebrated as a splendid victory. Like that of that Chilean Rivald against Valencia, on June 17, 2001, which also avoided the ridicule of a future far from the aristocracy.
And the curious thing is that, perhaps as a ghostly mirror of Madrid, it was also somewhat miraculous, at the last second. We live, then, under the influence of esotericism. And now we cling to another message from the divinity (or from the bewitched conjurations). Every time Betis wins a Copa del Rey (1977, 2005), the Liverpool triumph in Europe. All pending Seville, then, to see if the premonitions allow us to stop thinking that Madrid does not exist.