Summer afternoon in Germany, a field of sun and shadow, and Spain’s debut at six; reminiscences of a June afternoon 18 years ago in another Spanish debut in Germany, this one in the 2006 World Cup (how old we are and how happy we were afterwards, my goodness). Famous match because Carles Puyol came out of the defense caves with the trumpet, he snacked on two rivals with a fantasy roulette, another with a wall and Torres scored a great goal that declared in the championship the usual state of euphoria that brought us to announce Zidane’s retirement with known results.
Minute 30 in Euro 2024 and two goals from Spain starring Fabián. Fabián dismantled Croatia first with a pass to the bolt hole that Morata collected with unorthodox style (his style); The Atleti striker used the first control to move the ball away from the opponent and place it on his left foot; With it he scored the first. Fabián (in my head I continually hear the song by Javier Álvarez, “when sleep has overcome me, with fins on my feet, playing with a fish, sometimes I see Fabián. Sweet sea, sweet sea, immerse me in your salt “), Fabián, we in the nineties said, did not need anyone for the second: he made a cut-back in the lobby of the area (what could that be) that ended with a left-footed shot on goal. An unlikely connection was still missing: Lamine Yamal placing it to Dani Carvajal, who made a pure nine shot that will astonish the two or three who did not see the Champions final.
Spain is a team that brainy people with glasses would say interesting (me too and without contact lenses). Apparently compact group, with a couple of posh veterans, a lot of physicality in the center and two devilish charges of dynamite tied to the touchlines, Lamine Yamal and Nico Williams. Young and irrepressible, they are at the age of impatience and that impatience is precisely what gives a revolutionary point to their way of understanding the game. Yamal, in particular, is scary; He stops the ball and becomes wise, he sends it running with him behind it and it looks like one of those cracks that cross the valleys announcing earthquakes. He could have scored in the second half and it would have been fair for him to do so: he will do so in the following games because the goals that are not scored at the beginning are like the hugs that one saves when meeting someone: they end up coming out somewhere, and more effusive. As for Williams, if he reaches sixth gear there is no defense that will prevent him from reaching the baseline whistling like a little bird.
A team historically used to generating expectations after happy first games, it is worth remembering South Africa’s defeat to put this win in perspective. Spain will go as far as it can when it is most hidden, when it appears least in the pools; not as covered, let’s not be naive, but as a battalion that is counted on in the eighth or quarter (and hit the 90) to sneak into the final who knows how yet. There are superior selections a priori and there are inferior ones a posteriori, which is the most interesting of all. The punch on the board on Saturday afternoon promises at least an exciting future, and leaves the mark on the field of a team with an extraordinary sense of opportunity (Carvajal’s goal in first-half stoppage time, when goals count double) and a formidable aim, a very profitable and happy attack that is nourished by players from a state of exception, pure vertigo. You need luck, and for now luck smiles. Without luck you don’t go anywhere; with faith, to all.
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