After an extremely busy week, saturday finally arrives. It doesn’t feel like going out and instead of dressing up, wearing a sports suit sounds like a very acceptable choice. Lazy day. But it’s ten to ten and the Madrid-Barça is about to start. No problem, we are in the modern era. Google: watch Madrid Barça online. Nothing. The only site I find demands a text message to a certain one four four crap. I keep looking. Nothing. I suck at this. The noises of the football supporters come to my ear through some neighbor’s television. Damn it. I spend more than ten minutes searching the web for some free pity. Nothing. Laura sits in front of the computer, erases the word “watch” from google, hits enter and voilà. She stares at me like saying “you don’t have a clue”. I try to excuse my massive clumsiness, but all of a sudden the match is on, life.
I hear the comments of the guys who broadcast the match with a certain level of indignation. It’s like they have a little piece of the Real Madrid stuck up their colons. I little bit of imparciality, please! All they say is nonsense. A Barça player fails a pass: the worst player ever, this team is sinking… A Madrid Player makes a foul: it’s no big deal, it was not on purpose. My eyes were wide-opened with amazement, because I understand objectivity is utopia, but this guys’ lack of interest to even approach it is evident. If I look to the screen and listen to the comments at the same time, it seems like this guys are watching a match that takes place in a parallel “unidiotsverse”.
Barça scores the first goal. Messi gets a pass from Xavi, puts the ball down with his chest, turns the waist in a form that would break some bones in an average human being and scores, defying the most elemental laws of physics. Goal. The commentator from La Sexta (Spanish TV channel) says goal while trying to find a way to discredit the great play. What is journalism? A dream, a made up concept? Facts are facts. Period and the ball inside Madrid’s net. Be professional for once in your life and put your pride together with that little piece of madridism forming a cyst in your large intestine. The commentators start plotting. Mr. Esteva can’t stand himself. If you search him in the wikipedia, it says he is a sports commentator. Mistake. Whoever wrote that entry, erase such a blasphemy, please. He flies into a childish rage and says that Messi used a hand in his chest control. Too much talking will get you into trouble. Replay. And even with the three different spots and the slow motion, there is clearly no hand anywhere. But rage and the fact of not being professional are an awful combination. “It’s obviously handball”. And he keeps saying it while almost seven millions of spectators see no hand at all. Fifteen minutes later, just before the half time adverts, the commentator admits, unwillingly, that it was a fair play. It’s a MIRACLE, either his sight is back or somebody gently told him to wear his glasses back.
The second half it’s more or less the same story, except Madrid players fight more. And, of course, there is some extra kicking and fouls and even some flying elbow. I’m not justifying the play, but it’s normal. They are losing in their field in a very intense match. However, the commentator friend who apparently lives in an imaginary world, sees very forgivable tackles and is just able to criticize the Barça players with ten-year-old-boy comments. Grow up! One must say that the catalan team played hard too, anything but angels were found on the field.
Barça scores for the second time and the poor man doesn’t even know what to say, or how. His pro Madrid arguments wither slowly. He shouts the last score: “Real Madrid: 0, Barça: 2″. And that “two” sounds powerless and filled with restrained rage. If that’s supposed to be journalism, I’m ashamed of being part of this profession. No, no way. The one who should feel ashamed is this man, who surely missed the class where objectivity was taught. Whoever wrote his wikipedia entry, please, go over the concepts in a dictionary and if it was himself, he should buy one.
Alves brings Cristiano down just outside the penalty area. Mejuto (Spanish referee) blows the whistle and the commentators instantly start a bar fight asking for the second yellow card for the player. I wonder what match are they watching. They keep talking, with the yellow card in the lips until a few seconds later, Sergio Ramos is the one who tackles another player, just scratching his second card. Silence. The referee doesn’t see much of a bad tackle (because there wasn’t any) and just declares foul. One of the commentators scream “warning”. The silliness is coming to an end. Iniesta enters the field and misses his first pass. They strike back and start saying that the player is playing with fear or is not as good as he used to and more bla bla bla which is typical in a football supporter but not in a so called journalist. Minutes later, as if he had heard them, the same Iniesta starts an astonishing play next to the side and they just go mad
The match is over. 0-2. Barça played well. Madrid didn’t play bad, but worse. They lacked team play and had too much ego from Cristiano Ronaldo, who wanted to score desperately and screwed too much chances with too much individual play. Today all pro Barça diaries fill their pages with articles talking about superiority and other stuff, but the truth is they also suffered against a Real Madrid who hasn’t siad their last word yet. They hardly tackled Messi, true, but the white team also got their kicking dose. It was a good match and the only despicable fact was the behavior of the La Sexta commentator, which was anything but professional. Obviously, those who broadcast a match have their preferences, but using the fact of having a microphone to express them openly is shameful. A chinese proverb says: before you talk, spin your tong inside your mouth ten times and then, shut up. Those who are wise know when to be quite. And those who have the power to be heard massively should be a little wise or, at least, learn the BASICS of their profession.