🇬🇮 Gibraltar to the World Cup, chapter 7.
nutmeg fc #50
How long does it take to get over a betrayal?
We are approaching the quarter of a century since Luis Figo decided to leave FC Barcelona to inaugurate the era of Florentino's galacticos at Real Madrid. Almost twenty-five years and Alfonso Perez, Javier Saviola, Henrik Larsson, Eidur Gudjohnsen, David Villa, Pedro Rodriguez, Arda Turan, Philippe Coutinho, Antoine Griezmann and Ferran Torres later, the Culers have yet to get over it.
Just as Christians have not yet forgiven Judas Iscariot, more than two thousand years later.
Et tu, Brute?
So the six months it took me to get back to writing the chronicles from Gibraltar to the World Cup after the betrayal of my “friend” Miguel is not so long.
Previously...
Here’s a brief summary of what happened so far for new subscribers and for those who do not follow this newsletter with the same obsession with which Star Wars fans argue whether the Obi-Wan Kenobi series respects the canon or not.
The protagonist of this story is the aforementioned Miguel, who lives in Malaga, but is Argentinean. After the emotional overflow from Argentina winning the World Cup in Qatar, Miguel decided that he needed to look for a new impossible to be able to feel the same again. So he went to the bottom of the FIFA ranking and decided to become a San Marino fan, but I convinced him to become a Gibraltar fan, because it was just as bad and geographically closer.
The beginning was complicated, but once he understood that Gibraltar played home games in Portugal, he started to travel to every playoff game. The last trip that I recounted in these chronicles ended with a home defeat against France, but with a shot that could have been historic and filled Miguel with illusion.
The punctured balloon.
Miguel was convinced that this was a before and after for Gibraltar, that the excitement of almost scoring a goal from the middle of the pitch against the World Cup runner-up would lead the team from the Rock to have a supernatural confidence and to get good results.
But reality is reality.
The next match was a visit to the Republic of Ireland, a derby according to Miguel, because the Gibraltarians defended being British, while the Irish had become independent. It was a 3-0 win for the shamrock side with thirty-two shots on goal against only two.
And it didn't get any better. A 5-0 defeat against Greece in Athens, with zero shots on target, and another 4-0 home loss to Ireland. Gibraltar also lost in friendly matches against weak Malta (1-0) and Wales (4-0).
Just when it seemed that nothing could make the situation worse, it was time for revenge against France.
The betrayal.
I try to be empathetic. I understand that a 14-0 defeat can seriously affect a person's psyche and even alter the way they think, reason and even understand the world.
So, I would have accepted if Miguel changed his partner, his political orientation or even his religion, if he had any of the three, but what you can never, never, never do is change your football team. And much less for a bigger one than the previous one.
In other words, if someone is a lifelong Manchester City fan, but suddenly gets tired because they don't identify with what the club has become and decides to join Bolton, which is fifteen minutes away, I can understand that. But not the other way around. Because it is transactional and betrays the feeling and you can't be a fan without feeling.
Miguel is a Racing Club fan, from the cradle. For those who don't know much about Argentine football, Racing is one of the five big teams, archenemy of Independiente, first Argentine world champion, the team that exorcised its stadium to win a title after thirty-three years and the club where great stars like Diego Milito, Rodrigo De Paul, Lautaro Martinez, Piojo Lopez, Diego Simeone and Mauro Camoranesi have played.
However, one day when I went to his house to try to cheer him up, I found him between beers, laughter and hugs with the Boca Juniors supporters.
And that betrayal is unforgivable.