Dark part of the weeds
Although I was not very fond of football, I, too, rejoiced at Osasuna’s feat. On that Saturday in June, I was a silent and attentive witness to the terrible explosion of the party. As we are enough of the darkness, I decided to look no further than the light of the party, because witnessing the folly of people is beautiful: streets and inns to the neck, people dancing, screaming, jumping…
On the other hand, in a society as fragmented as ours, Abertzales, Regionalists and Socialists rarely rejoice for the same reason. And, of course, there are other reasons to be happy, whether they are Osasuna supporters or not: we will more easily charge the club’s debt to all of us in the first division than in the second division.
So far everything is fine. The truth is that as popular madness grew, the inner joy began to go in the opposite direction: the multitudinous reception of the early morning, the tribute to the authorities, the walk of the players in the streets as heroes, the exaggerated attention of the media… What you mean: forgetting the initial goal, the inner joy prevailed in the darkness of Sunday’s feast.
To justify the change of mood, I read the letter I had just received and remembered the phrase I had in the notepad. Ismael Santos is the most famous basketball player, taken from an interview: “Professional sport,” says the Galician, generates inconsistent automata. What have you gained? If you make a match winning shot, you're a hero; if you're wrong, you're the puppy most. Everything is judged on the basis of the final result, and that is unfair and poor.”
As I read the phrase, the radio announcer was talking about the Basque Derbis of next season: “Five Basque teams in the first division, twenty derbis!” I heard and saw immediately the images that television offers us in these cases: the fans of both teams mix, in Estafeta or in Fermin Calbetón, each with their t-shirt and collar, with beer in their hands, screaming. Twenty times a season.
And I, knowing what could come, imploring the incorrupt arm of San Francisco Javier over and over again: “We ask that in the pre-Derbis reports the representative of the type of footballer that Juan Luis Zabala describes in the book Txistu eta biok should ever get out: ‘You won’t catch me with the Real T-Shirt or celebrating a Real victory by jumping and screaming. My hobby of the Real is quieter than recognized, without fright.”
Twenty Basque derbis: twenty opportunities to interview an amateur of this profile and offer novelties in the reports prior to the derbis.
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