Roncero’s Joy

The wonderful day of the draws. We enjoy ourselves, well aware that we start disadvantaged against any of the three, the others who want to avoid challenge each other. We get Real. Roncero, AS journalist madridista , envious of certain feats of some our own media, wants to challenge the impossible and is able to overcome them in partisanship and incompetence.
When everyone thinks that the challenge is destined to fail miserably (too big, therefore objectively), he reacts with a stroke of a champion:
Arms wide, eyes to the sky: thanks, Dios, you gave us Juventus, we are in the final.
But Dios should not have taken it well, and today Roncero is the most mocked man in the world.

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Stay calm, Ronaldo takes care of it

Ronaldo, Ronaldo.
Ronaldo, the golden ball. Ronaldo, who wants to challenge Messi in the final. Ronaldo who before the first leg we already know we will score. Ronaldo that scores in the first leg. Ronaldo losing the first leg 2-1. And at 2-1 we do not know whether to be happy not to have taken the 2-2, we would be almost dead, or regretted that Lorente’s header has not made the third, which would have given us some hope for more in view of hell of Bernabeu. Ronaldo sees the fans before the match and it calms them down: stay calm, I’ll take care of it (in what will prove a fine parody of a famous tweet ). Ronaldo sees Chiellini hitting a teammate in the penalty area. Ronaldo does not know, but we are insulting first the referee and after the replay Chiellini. Ronaldo does not know, but he has on his shoulders the fate of millions of Italians clinging to his goals, saying “see that in Europe you get eliminated because they give penalties against you?”. Ronaldo who doesn’t care, about us and them, and scores shooting central and rejoices with a bad air: I told you to stay calm, no?
Ronaldo disappears forever, twenty minutes in the semifinal.
Until next time, my friend.




Let’s keep the 1-0 until the seventieth, seventiefive, and a) we went out in an unbecoming manner from the Champions and b) that accidentally we score a goal in some way … These are, he chats with friends during half-time. But no, long before it happens that they give as a free-kick, Ramos goes by the linesman threatening him, who doesn’t give a damn, from developments we throw a ball in the middle, Ramos goes up too late and leaves him in the game, that Pogba jumps and heads the ball, that the ball arrives to someone in the middle of the area.
After 50 seconds we understand that someone is Morata, that pulls an arrow which Casillas can only touch. 1-1. Morata doesn’t rejoice, and I in the exact same time I wonder whether I can scream stronger than I am doing, the same way are doing millions of people.
Thanks Alvaro. You’re trying  make us not to regret Immobile, those who in our own media said he is stronger than you (“you have the top scorer in the Italian league and go to buy a reserve of Real?”): It is not easy, but we know that still appreciate the effort.

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The ball boy and his failure

Here it is, the moment when I realized those who commit some kind of crime.
Evra wins cunningly the corner, the ball bounces close to billboards, Patrice is going to retrieve it, when he comes, the idiot of the year. The ball boy who anticipates as his idols have never been able to do in 180 minutes, the ball, denies it to Patrice, it takes behind the billboards, makes that face of unpunished, almost as if Evra was attacking, and save those ten seconds he believes will prove decisive. Here, if I was there, beside him, I would have probably taken an unfair and perennial Daspi, because of this boy.
Good day, genius, to never again. And next think better, maybe a few more seconds in recovery could also serve.

Berlin here we are

It is the 92nd and few seconds. Missing a minute and a half to finish. I am sure that I am dreaming, because at this point, if it goes wrong, if they score in the last second, we are in stoppage time of the semifinals of the Champions League, and frankly I had never thought seriously.
Yes, the jokes about Berlin, #allegrimania, some sentence thrown here and there, but do not mess around, the Final, but what are you saying? I’m dreaming, I’m sure, and the absolute certainty comes just at that exact moment, 92 minute and a few seconds, when, before a corner for Real, I tell my family, faithful companions of game, that we must find a way – any way – to retrieve the ball and freeze it until the last second. And there, when the dream finds its definitive fulfilment, when I see the referee reverse the corner and assign it to us, that we recover the ball and freeze it until the last second. It’s over, there in my dream, and I’m back in the Champions League final. Then maybe the reality is another, I went out against Olympiakos, when losing 2-1 at home and I was out, or perhaps against Atletico Madrid, or who knows, Dortmund made us 3 goals, with superstar Immobile and Morata to pieces. I do not know.

What I know, what was really amazing is that my dream is not finished yet.

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adapte an article of Massimo Zampini @