From Messi to Lamine

Due to the effervescence of the World Cup, most readers will have seen on their mobile screen (surely involuntarily, as virtual existence has less and less to do with free will every day) the photograph of a young Lionel Messi, still with long fuzz and without his body tattooed like a hooligan, where you can see the Catalan player of Argentine origin bathing a small baby who, by those things in life, is Lamine Yamal. Seen from the present, which is how works of art or historical documents are always analyzed (and even more so in light of this Sunday's final), the amateur-culé philosopher has serious difficulties not to analyze the snapshot as a demonstration of the Holy Continuity of Barça's youth academy model, embodied in the aforementioned healing image between the one who -whatever happens the day after tomorrow in New York- must be considered the best player in history and the young man who will mark the style and future temperament of the opium of the masses.

Although I abhor the irritating navel-gazing of my beloved tribe, I must confess that I also survive thanks to a certain football addiction and that, from time to time, I look for reasons to justify the misfortune of having been born in Catalonia; in the case at hand, it must be said that it is very difficult not to be moved by an image that has a very impactful sporting meaning and also a political reading that, in a present where many things are being turned upside down and from the perspective of origins, shows two universal Catalans with foreign blood solidarized in a paternal or fraternal attitude (so sorry, racial-cultural protectionists). In this sense, I would say that Barça can rightly boast of a model of sporting excellence that, the image tells us, shows that the motto "tant se val d'on venim" is not just a vulgar intercultural verse. Regardless of whether Messi or Freud wins, this World Cup will be very culé.

That said, Sunday's match also certifies that the history of planetary football could not be written without the players who have left their mark on Barça. If we trace a line of unmatched stars that passes through Cruyff, Maradona, Messi and -fingers crossed- Lamine, we will understand that, if we were to make a ranking of global football legends, our club would win (the merengue readers, who are going through difficult times, will speak of Di Stéfano; and I will remind them that even that player has a relationship with our house, because he had to be ours before he was snatched from us with foul play or with the wallet, as they always do). I would say that my club must make more efforts to reclaim that continuous legacy because, especially in the case of the first two figures, it represents an existential and technical change in the way of understanding the game. If you take these names out of the hall of fame, football would be lame.

What I say is not only related to Barça because, like it or not, this club is the first brand (ugh) of our city and one of its ways of penetrating the world. Whether we like it or not, I insist, there is no other field (and I wish I could say the same about our music or our scientists!) where Barcelona can project an undeniable image of planetary excellence. For someone like me, who equally abhors Spain and Argentina, seeing Sunday's final as a triumph for Barça may seem like a romantic consolation, and it certainly is, but it is a sentimentality with a demonstrable foundation. That said, Leo Messi is one of the men who has made me happiest in life and, from this modest Stab, I ask him to spare me the unbearable bore about the diversity of Spain and the multiculturalism of Rocafonda that awaits me if La Roja wins. Leo, my son, however hurt you may be, you owe us many favors.

"The history of planetary football could not be written without the players who have passed through Barça"

This heritage that ties the figures of Cruyff, Maradona, Messi and his little baby should transcend the sports realm to fully enter into the patrimonial reflection of our city. Reading the Barcelona model (ecs) from the historical narrative that goes from a wandering Dutchman, passing through an existentially damaged Argentine, to two new adopted Catalans… could be amusing. All this should be done, of course, from a perspective that thought of Barcelona as the capital of a Catalan state that we do not have but that Barça, who knows if illusionarily, can often glimpse (and who knows if this, to hammer the nail, is also one of the magnificent alienations that football gives us!). That said, may the aforementioned photograph be a good guide for Sunday's match... and, please, Leo, give the little one another bath, because we, the members, are paying and the kid, for your services rendered, will understand it perfectly.