I’m doing something wrong in life: there are days when I’m so busy that I forget to check my virtual leagues. There are days when I don’t even remember the Biwenger or the NBA, and I do not make the alignment or I remain without signings. I’m doing something wrong, I think sometimes, that I should review the priorities.

I’m sure I am doing something wrong: there are weeks that I have so much trouble that I type this column as I do now, at dawn, over the horn and without knowing what I will write in the next paragraph. There are footballers who play a bit like this, as they feel. You see that they receive the ball and begin to drive and dribble until they lose it, improvising, advancing in the play as it comes. They are usually fun and cute, but unreliable. Others, on the other hand, know how they are going to end the play before starting it. What you see on the grass they have imagined before. It is a subtlety that differentiates the good from the best, those who speak from those who already know their parents’ children.

An unavoidable obligation

Something sinks my spirits: I am a postponed match which is played at night, in winter, during the week and behind closed doors. An unavoidable obligation. I fill the phone calendar with threatening notices: remember to send the column on Friday; remember to write the column before going to sleep on Thursday; remember to send the new invoices that it is already December; remember to fabricate ten minutes to think before bed. The phone calendar sends me notifications that are daggers. I talk to him and tell him that I remember everything, that that’s not the problem, forgive me for putting it off. Because of course I remember everything, I tell him, but he doesn’t give me my life to carry out those orders.

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Something has passed over me: I am suddenly old. They answer me messages with border ’emojis’ that I don’t really know what they mean and I stay for a while observing the answer, calibrating all the possibilities, trapped in ambiguities. I don’t know if they want me or prefer me to shut up. Something essential was lost on the previous screen because sometimes I don’t understand kids. On Monday I enjoyed the start of the game of Osasuna: strong leg, speed, determination, crosses and shots. There was the simple truth of soccer for me, even though right then the world was looking elsewhere. Football today moves away from that tribal and wild symphony and surrenders to the arms of the millimeter of the VAR, of the gala of the Golden Ball, from the red carpet, individualism, costumes and flashes. What used to be an accessory is now the base, and I am very strong, I admit it, I am a real old man without strength or desire to update. Maybe because of that, it may be, I lose so much in virtual leagues.

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Long time without leaving

Something is gone that does not come back: the last time I went out I realized that I no longer know how to drink, and that is important. I have lost the habit and I am the worst, a Sunday night with no intention of recovering. I told a friend about it and he said it’s because of the pandemic, that we did not go out for a long time, that happens to a lot of people and that I did not worry. He must have made it up to comfort me. The next day I woke up and drank three multi-fruit Actimel kids in a row, one after the other, as if they were hiding the potion of infinite youth in each container. There are hangovers that are here to stay.

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Reference-www.elperiodico.com

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