The soap opera Kylian Mbappé has left us some of the most surreal moments on television in recent times, like the one in which Paco Buyo explained the ins and outs of Arab culture with the liquid consistency of a Betanzos omelette, which is something for her land. Without the impediments of that visor that immortalized him in Tenerife by giving up a goal in exchange for avoiding a corner, the now-gathering member can sense some of the traits that made Manuel Fraga Iribarne an almost unbeatable politician in Galicia and indecipherable for the rest of Spain , including an artisan distortion of the speech by which one thinks he understands what he is listening to, but prefers to think that what was said was not said: no one better than him to illustrate a reverie based on informative debauchery, to call it some way and without the need to insult the propaganda.
It was all a great leap of faith, like believing that peace will be installed in the world by the mere fact of shaking a few hands during the funeral of a second cousin. We were asked to believe and we believed, in some cases with reservations, but with the enthusiasm of the new as a flag and the conviction that great footballers always play where they want and, often, where they are paid the most. He more than complied with Real Madrid, nothing can be reproached for him. And millions of fans met other teams who chose to put on the bandage without mediating any injury, an attitude highly valued both on social networks and in some boxes of crossfit. We had prepared for the landing of the French in Chamartín and that was when the name of Eduardo Camavinga appeared: the umpteenth master move of a president-state that never loses.
Signing Mbappé now would have shattered the desire of a part of the fans that only aspire to dream, never to wake up, and that is why Florentino Pérez comes out reinforced once again from all this mess: he did everything he was asked without having to do nothing, if at all, show the wallet and the lion’s coat of arms so that everyone knows that Real Madrid always pays its debts, like the Lannisters. In addition, it saves a few million euros, although for Real Madrid accounts it could be more sweet to pay a large transfer now than to compensate a future letter of freedom with monstrous transfer bonuses that are impossible to amortize. But let’s go back to the prosaic, to those indescribable moments that every night crept into our living room through the television screens.
In 1992, Fidel Castro attended the Universal Exhibition in Seville to celebrate Ibero-American Day. The good words rained down and to thank those that the then head of the Spanish State dedicated to him, Fidel would say that so famous of “I declare myself realistic”. They all laughed and Felipe González followed the joke by warning Fidel that the next elections were coming upon him. “Name a prime minister”, they say that it was the contribution of Carlos Menem while the then president of Costa Rica, Rafael Calderón, signed up for the roaster proposing to the dictator that he proclaim himself king of Cuba and, later, call elections. Laughter thundered and that was when a TVE camera captured Violeta Chamorro, president of Nicaragua, showing her embarrassment with a brief “Oh Lord”: it is the same thing that I think every time I see ‘fraguear’ to Paco Buyo on his experiences with Qataris.
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