Not long ago, at La Farga bar, next to Catalunya Ràdio, I was waiting seated at the bar for some coffees to go, when a man entered. I heard him say he had a table. My friends, the waiters, were very kind to him, but they are always kind to everyone. They know the names and lives of their customers, myself included, and they call them by name. "Mrs. Romaguera, your usual table?" "Has your daughter arrived yet, Mr. Romagosa?" The man I'm talking about waved, with his hand, towards where I was. And I, who suffer from prosopagnosia, also raised my hand to return the greeting. I thought he might be a radio worker or a wine salesman or the drummer of some band leaving after recording a program on Icat.
---But don't you know who he is? ---my friend, the waiter, asked me, with some alarm.
--- No, do I know him? ---I replied.
--- It's Gerard Piqué!
But he had already gone to the table. I understand that a Barça footballer, whose face is known in every corner of the planet, greets politely, but without effusiveness, everywhere, to avoid being considered stupid if he doesn't, and to avoid, if he does it with too much friendliness, being hugged and having to sign autographs.
Not much time has passed since that day, but, of course, we didn't know everything that would happen with Messi. We didn't think we would see the player's press conference, in tears. I saw it in a bar, near Linyola, and the regulars, with their coffees and carajillos, were as sad as at a funeral.
And so it was that yesterday, Piqué ---on the field, in context, yes I know him--- played the first match after Messi's departure and scored the first goal of the season. From what I read, the fans in the stadium had been asked to sing the name of the absent player in the tenth minute of each half, but not everyone did. I agree, anyway. If the boyfriend you loved so much and who gave you so much joy leaves you, telling you "it's not you, it's me...", and you're heartbroken, you don't have to be crying his name every night at twelve and seven because that's the time you made love for the first time. You don't have to torture yourself. You have to "rebuild your life," say the marriage counselors. If at night you cry because you've lost the sun, etcetera, etcetera, right?
Well then. Since at night I don't usually cry for having lost the sun, etcetera, etcetera, I enjoyed Barça against Real Sociedad, with all the stars. Without Messi, the positions changed and this change meant that young Eric Garcia was next to Piqué. Piqué scored the first goal of the season. I'm talking about him, because he took a pay cut ---others haven't--- and in this way Barça has registered Memphis, who also played yesterday and who, with the ball, by the way, thanked him for the favor.