Trying to explain the best-kept secret of his success, a well-known Argentine newspaper went so far as to affirm last September that Erling Haaland preferred fresh food to frozen ones: an excellent conclusion, very well played. In any case, and sensing that the regular intake of wild blueberries and Skrei cod would not fully clarify the Norwegian’s football explosion, the same report appeared the statements of Haaland’s personal trainer in Germany who -rather to the contrary- did not evade his quota of responsibility in the creation of the monster. “I designed a circuit in which Erling had to hit a sack at one of the stations,” said Steenslid when questioned about this prodigious recipe capable of turning the most ordinary of humans into a god.
It is curious the way in which some journalists and fans avoid the simplest and most universal truths of soccer while we seek refuge in much more elaborate distortions, more of a university assembly or history On Instagram. From a very young age, on the street, in the yard or on the training ground, boys and girls learn to recognize talent without having to delve into its causes. We know who the really good ones are because we see them throw pipes with a distracted look, which is beauty fleeing from effort, while the rest of us get mad trying to pretend what we are not, sweaty, vile and capricious, incapable of admitting what we are. obvious and rejecting the accomplice and lying kiss from mom or dad.
“I dream of touching five balls in a game and scoring five goals,” the Norwegian striker joked in a recent interview. It was debated in those days of disparate results if Haaland would not be scoring too many goals for the little that came into play, a problematic point where there are because, as is well known, the real will never win out in fascination over the imaginary. Something similar already happened in Guardiola’s first season in charge of the Blue sky, with countless analysts and commentators wondering what it was worth playing football so well. “I have seen that vegetables, in England, have no soul,” the American actor Manish Dayal once said without mentioning the world of football or Haaland in particular, at least as far as I know, which would have delighted some Argentine journalist and not a few former English soccer players, today recycled into tactical shamans to the point of questioning the significance of the goal.
He is successful with so many parents that it will not be enough for Erling Haaland to prove the biological merits of his, the elite footballer until Roy Keane broke his knee making a Rupert Murdoch face. Each goal and each record will be accompanied by the corresponding bite of an apple that is on its way to surpassing in importance the one Newton turned out to explain his universal theory. The ball does not enter by chance, was the title of the book that Ferran Soriano wrote after his successful stay at Barça. Fortunately, today we know that guys like Haaland or Messi get accustomed to getting the ball in because they kick it, not because a dietician forbids them to eat Dr. Oetker’s pizzas or an executive points out the dotted lines to fill in on the contract.
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