As much as commercialism puts its dirty hands in football, no better way of counting the passage of time has been invented. Have fun. Messi made his debut for Barcelona the year of the 11-M attacks. His first entry on the field has been repeated many times, replacing Portuguese Deco. A year before, we saw this Portuguese at the Cartuja stadium winning the Cup Winners’ Cup final with Porto against Celtic from Glasgow. His coach was a certain Mourinho. The Scots celebrated the defeat by leaving all the bars in Seville without beer. Losing is a matter of method, the Colombian Santiago Gamboa titled a novel. And winning doesn’t always release the weight of tears. Leo Messi was on his way to Antoñete, but it seems that this is the final farewell. Gold in Beijing, he leaves at the twilight of the Tokyo Games, in the domain of Andrés Iniesta. There is a curious link between the two, because Messi scored his first goal in the league, May 1, 2005, at Albacete. The mechanical cheese. In his particular tribute to Berlanga, he has been the executioner of all the archers in the League. Eight Pichichis. Messi and Sergio Ramos were the only two footballers who could overtake Joaquín el del Puerto in that second place as the player with the most games in the League after the unattainable Andoni Zubizarreta. He has coincided with three presidents of the Government: with Zapatero he won two European Cups and another two with Rajoy. Pedro Sánchez is unpublished. Since Leopoldo Calvo-Sotelo, who had the surname of a football team, he is the only president with whom Spain has not won any continental awards. The bipartisanism does not end with Podemos, with Ciudadanos and with Vox. It ends with the departure of Cristiano Ronaldo and Messi from Spanish football. A Portuguese and an Argentine. The Magellan route. We are Messi’s time. He should have fired like the tenors, before his audience. His goodbye is the metaphor for a rare time. An endorsement to keep him at Barça was more justified than the one approved by the secessionist winners to cover the bonds of his nonsense. It would be more patriotic. A boy asked his father on the beach if Pere Aragonès was the son of Luis Aragonés. The wise man of Hortaleza. The year my parents got married, 1956, Madrid won the first European Cup. The year my father died, 2006, and the year my mother died, 2015, a Madrid consort, were won by Messi’s Barça. This is life. Sunrise and sunset, in the words of Antonio Domínguez Ortiz. Messi was about to turn five when Koeman’s goal at Wembley. In 1992. The year of the Barcelona Olympic Games and the Balkan War. The newspaper archives are loaded by the devil.
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