This summer I read, finally, "New York Stories" the great Enric González. I have yet "Historias del Calcio", his latest book, rather a compilation of articles he wrote while many of them I read in the wonderful blog by that name.
Today I find this great article in El Pais . Much more than football. Enjoy.
Want proof? There are the Indian Abdon Porte with his date, March 5, 1918. Remember the Indian Abdon Right? Sure, everyone remembers the Indian. He finished the game and the Indian National midfielder, Uruguayan football glory, celebrated with teammates. He drank and laughed with them, and should give good advice, because the party, for a good midfielder, never ends. Then, after midnight, he turned to the stage of Central Park. The club thought pierced by old man was 27 years, 27 years of 1918 and did not see him as strong as before. But the Indian was going to stay. That night, the night of 4 to 5 (the numbers in the midfield), walked to the exact center of the field (the territory of midfield), took out a piece of paper with the last poem ("National although dust and dust become ever-loving ... "), seized a revolver and blew his heart.
Nothing, by chance, a midfielder depression, say some. Coincidence? Well let's Aug. Do you remember, the poor Ago? Tall, elegant, never a false step: the best midfielder that was Rome. And in that Rome was Falcao, care. Agostino di Bartolomei, Ago, was the captain of Roma in the 82-83 season, the season's scudetto glory, the first in more than 40 years and the second in Roman history. The following season, Roma stormed into the European Cup with a splendid football. And with bad art, why deny it: the referee was bribed semifinal, but that was not the fault of Aug. The fact is that the final was played in Rome, at home against Liverpool. It was May 30, 1984. "The game of my life," said Tie on Aug. 90, tie in overtime, and penalties, English victory. It was the blackest night of Rome.
Eriksson arrived the next season on the bench, and Ago was transferred to Milan. He quarreled with his former colleagues and his game became more and more gloomy until, in 1990, hung up his boots. August took it more calmly than the Indian and waited 10 years. Exactly 10. On May 30, 1994, the tenth anniversary of the disaster, Agostino di Bartolomei left a paper on the desk ("I feel trapped in a hole"), went on the balcony of his home, brandished a gun and blew his heart.
Would you enough? Neither goalkeeper or striker, not the end: those are neurotic maniacs for him. Who really suffers, who knows the tragic sense of football, is midfielder. And do not speak of who plays midfield. People like Capello and Frank Rijkaard, and many others, played just that. They were there to understand. No, no, I mean the midfielder is not used for anything else, because it has a match in the head and need to fit the reality, I mean the sufferer's anxiety the big game perfect. That
inventor of matches have already seen, is very special, rare and delicate. As Guardiola and Schuster, without going any further: in the two Augusti benches sit two of the race. Of course, do not expect to poke a gun. Expect anxiety, though. It will be an agonizing season, under the sign of the midfielder. Have convinced trust.
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