I guess I miss that tragicomic Spain that never felt like a favorite in major international events, perhaps in Eurovision, almost always with a disastrous outcome. Ours was a country that trusted Sergio Dalma, or Serafín Zubiri, while openly suspicious of Rafael Gordillo, Manu Sarabia or Pep Guardiola. A country of bullfighters who, when in doubt, preferred to applaud the bull, as Luis Aragonés once suggested. We owe him a large part of that audacity: that of putting the best in order to be able to face the rest of the great teams, although due to our height we were two inches short to faithfully comply with the requirement.
Spain is in fashion again. She feels strong, powerful, favorite. On the street, in the kiosks and even in the serene walk of those older ladies who go to eight o’clock mass with sunglasses, you can breathe that unmistakable mix of optimism and arrogance that usually makes its way in our country when the team wins victories without apparent effort. Everything seems fine to us, even praying to the ball, because the analyzes become prophecies and the footballers are dressed as saints to undress whoever is necessary, as the saying goes. And why not us? Triggers the stylized reflection that any shop window returns to us. Nouveau riche questions that the Spain of yesteryear would never ask.
We like to win so much that sometimes we don’t control the times. We are one step ahead of the most optimistic predictions because Spain is doing well, even Donald Trump says so, who confuses offside with the border. And right now the entire country seems willing to believe itself to be the next king of football, although there is still a year left until the next World Cup and the corresponding tournament to confirm that, this time, we know what we are doing. It is not a bad record to appear at the event as current European champions and after a classification that has so far been immaculate. In a way we are like those smokers who swear that they have stopped smoking with each puff, which is always the last: triumphalism is, suddenly, our national vice after a long journey through the desert calling tobacconists oases.
It’s okay to be openly optimistic, but always with discretion: the oxen before the cart and not the other way around. You can celebrate the moment without having to organize a parade, analyze without crowning, enjoy without risking the university of the kids in bets that we take for granted. Luis De la Fuente’s team has shown that it can beat anyone, which does not prevent anyone from ruining the carnival for us. “Be careful with the early party, they take it away from us.” fuciño“, says the first letter of the apostle Saint Arsenio to the people of A Coruña. New or semi-new, this is still the same Spain that, at the first stumble, turns your enthusiasm into an autopsy.
Finally feeling like favorites comes with some relief, until the time comes to prove it. It is there where the preliminary applause turns into lead, an invisible slab that has crushed footballers as good as ours in any imaginable latitude. Ask in France, Germany, England, Argentina or Brazil. It would be a great step for our players to appear in the United States without the background noise that always accompanies anthems and adjectives. And I hope we win, if only to show those disenchanted with the dance together that enthusiasm does not always lead to ruin.
For more updates, visit our homepage: NewsTimesWire
