The first classic of the season is around the corner and a friend of mine has thought to point out that next Saturday’s event is reminiscent of those internet ads in which Carlos Sobera or Lorena Castell appear handcuffed and surrounded by police: no. it is advisable to trust. Getting carried away by first impressions is usually the prelude to error and, therefore, synonymous with fright or, directly, death.
A Real Madrid arrives confidently, this season combining some interesting survival exercises with a certain drowsiness, as if sometimes it did not feel like being the fearsome Real Madrid and would settle for its new reputation as a lazy student, another one who does not need to attend class or Do your homework to pass your exams. This same week and in his own home, which is like saying in front of the family, he flirted with disaster in a first half that was as soulless on the part of the white team as it was willful on the part of the rival, who recognized his recreational vices and waited for his opportunity. They would end up coming back in the second half, confronting their parents and even throwing the books out the window, but the feeling remains that Madrid is throwing away too many minutes for the pure whim of showing that they can.
He is the worst enemy for any rival, including a Barça team that comes to the event in the midst of a consolidation process, full of kids with acne and very hard faces. Some of them have only known the modern Real from the madhouse, the plastic chair, the impossible comebacks and their European Cups for punishment, few of the human and even lackadaisical Madrid that ate Barça’s goals in their own stadium while the stands turned furiously towards the box, not so much to demand Florentino Pérez’s resignation as to ask him for explanations for the attitude of the children. “And what else do you want me to do, if I already have them in the best schools?”the face of the greatest white leader seemed to say since Kant denied the existence of God.
The experts assure that anything can happen in a classic, the same type of imprecise sentence that any fan could show off at the bar or in the office and that, therefore, discredits them as experts. It’s like saying that eighties thing about “In an Italian town, at the foot of the mountains, our friend Marco lives”: same ambiguity, same conformism. Among the most daring, there are many who predict a victory for the whites: more seasoned, more responsible, less strange. It is the first great showcase of the season if we ignore the games against Dortmund, current runner-up in Europe, and Atleti, eternal honorary runner-up. And in Madrid there are plenty of footballers with big showcases, billboards on Gran Vía and even aspirations for the Ballon d’Or in the immediate future.
It is a match for Vinicius Jr., Mbappé or Jude Bellingham. It is a match for central defenders of proverbial firmness. It’s a match for stone goalkeepers. But it is also a match for scoundrels, for the shameless, for the deluded… Not believing is often the best way to convince and there is something in the faces of the Yamal and the Cubarsí that invites hope for anyone who identifies the Real Madrid like the Empire and everyone else with the Rebel Alliance. “Do it or don’t do it, but don’t try,” Master Yoda would say. What is not entirely clear is to whom.
