From Maradona to Messi, even for one night, once again “we got excited again”

There is something very deep in football, both in winning and losing. There is a dramatic theater of life, where one dreams of the last penalty “We are all Montiel, Gonzalo let’s go!!!”that moment that can give us unforgettable glory or sadness, because we also feel that we, each one of us, often save that last ball that almost kills us, but we save it as the I drew Martínez, or that we are Messi, that we can against all winds and all tides. And that we dribble those who go ahead to stop us.

Now, right now, to the caravan crowd, football songs like mantrassmiles and laughter and joy pop up like an island in a country too accustomed to tears and blood.

But not so used to it, though, because a Scudetto changes the gestures of millions and grimaces become a catharsis of raised arms and frenzy.

It is an emptying in the face of so many pressures and, suddenly, everything erupts like a volcano which, instead of destroying, releases contained energy and we all shout the Scudetto, we pave the way for that healing of the joint cry, of the collective dance, of the music sung by thousands and by millions.

Parties are deeper than the contempt with which they are sometimes analyzed by cheap sociology.

They are not necessarily positive. Sometimes they are collective black parties.

But it is possible to analyze them without underestimating them.

There is a deep message in the party, always.

And here in the face of so much disappointment the party has risen again, because you have to be champions, feel like champions and sometimes go around the Olympics all together.

The bass drums resonate with that beat that rumbles from the candombe to today, the jumps and that search for elevation express that desire for height, to get off the ground and fly even for imaginary moments, the flags wave and wave and the sky-and-white becomes skin. A certain anachronistic nationalism and an undaunted Anglophobia also cross the air on the eve of the match around the Monumental: “He who doesn’t jump is an Englishman”. What does the British have to do with all this? Mysteries of the collective unconscious.

But at the same time, there was something healing about this league. How many thousands, millions of us have not returned to observe the series of sanctions countless times? How many times have we gone back so that time would not pass, and we remain embraced with them watching them so that their embraces and their ecstasy would never end after that corner kick by Montiel, who went from penalties to a series of penalties to the most important in life it has become, and this moves anyone who understands what football and sport are, and life itself.

The totemic Maradona, beyond his terrestrial transit, by now the bearer of the same flame from him to Lionel, is omnipresent, and even if it is for one night, once again, «we got excited again».

Because if not, everything is very difficult.

And the illusions aren’t stained, or shouldn’t be stained.