After the press conference of the league runner-up president, I watched Star Wars again. Like Pavlov’s dog, after Florentino I wanted Darth Vader. In fact, at the staging, white and radiant, disordered and solitary, very Soviet, where we saw an old powerful man speak from a pulpit, head of everything and everyone, we missed a parade of cones in front of him. Or of European Cups. A cone and a European Cup would have been appropriate.
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Florentino Pérez’s performance gave me – beyond the desire for intergalactic war – a feeling of both tenderness and terror. The tenderness of when your grandfather insisted on singing that jota at a wedding for which he no longer had a voice, didn’t remember half the lyrics, and no one cared whether the Virgin of Pilar could or could not be French. Disheveled, holding onto a napkin, you let the poor old man do it, who ignored everyone and no longer knew what world he lived in. It was him and his silly jota and his “they have stolen seven leagues from me.” Then, you took the wine glass away and prayed that we would soon return home. That is the part of tenderness I felt when I saw the Madrid president, with a speech as disjointed as narcissistic, paranoid, commanding the Galactic Army to save the football world. We were lucky he didn’t call the journalist he gave the floor to malinche, taking it away from the ugly men.
If they don’t win, it’s theft, illegitimate government, fraud, Bildu or Negreira
The terrifying part of his press conference and the subsequent systemic moves of his sycophant journalists was witnessing the true face of raw power. That old man has sent dozens of journalists to the gulag. He still decides what can be said and what cannot, and only poor sports management and his loss of contact with reality – all dictators end up in a bunker commanding armies that don’t exist against the world – have led him to chat with Max Estrella on Gato Street.
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It is a hallmark we also see on the right in this country: here we must always win. If not, it’s theft, illegitimate government, fraud, Bildu or Negreira and from there to a coup d’état or madness. It’s not about not knowing how to manage defeat, it’s that this is always a violation of the divine order of things. God chose us. We always win, we always rule. And if not, by gunfire.
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