Seen the Albania-Spain on a ferry. Gray and anodyne minutes of Spain in the first moments until the chronicler approaches the screen: it turns out that those in red were the Albanians. Beautiful uniform, by the way, with its dark socks and a formidable, not garish, red. Spain dresses in an unusual yellow flag, those underwear of grandparents (and parents, and some children, ahem) in the 80s. The so-called reserves or, in football language, unit B have taken to the field: players without playing time. ownership that they will take advantage of this match (Spain is already classified as first in the group) to score a goal and dedicate it to a newborn or a couple or someone, hopefully not, who has recently died. Football as a public spectacle destined for private compensation.
There it is on the left Ferran Martínez occupying the burnt grass of Lamine Yamal, reserved for the round of 16. There he is floating with the 10, playing between the lines, exploring between forests of legs, Dani Olmo acting as Pedri and others as Fabián. Olmo has just placed a ball for Ferran’s break that makes the Barcelona striker’s mouth water; He stands out by practically positioning his body for the shot, because the pass is one of those assists that does not require control. Ferran breaks the Albanian full-back with speed and only has to dust the billiard cue at a run to send a very fair shot to the post. It seems that Ferran chose the post on purpose, placing it there to score the goal. Toy finish, perfect. Spain to sleep a little, or so Albania intends.
It has become night in the Mediterranean and there are queues at the ferry restaurant that offers menus and the other that sells pizzas and sandwiches. The boat’s screens have the game on but hardly any attention is paid to it. Several boys wearing national team shirts watch the game until they get bored. Beers and rice dishes circulate. The sea at night and the silence from the deck are impressive. Spain is a team that, as a general observation, is required to have large doses of emotion and excitement in a big tournament so that people give it their time. An almost friendly match against Albania this Monday night is not the best plan in the world.
The night before was San Juan: too many bonfires for any lights to remain on. You have to turn them all on in the round of 16 and sharpen that which decides whether a selection is a winner or ‘entertaining’; if a team knows how to win civilly or criminally or only launch fireworks in highly anticipated matches. The level of revolutions of this Eurocup Spain is perfect for players not only to have fun but also to win if the opportunity to have fun does not appear; that they win when what is at stake is to pass or not, live or die, recreate in the abyss or push the other through it. Fun times are coming for a generation whose best players are of an age to prepare for the selectivity, and the selectivity has come to them in the Eurocup with their bodies half-finished and their feet and heads completely made. If this is happening in 2024, what will not happen in 2026, when they are not yet of age to find work. The ship, meanwhile, has not yet reached land.
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