By Marios AdamosThat when we returned home at night spying and with blood running from our knees, after of course the voices and threats of our manades had preceded, we thought we were returning from the field of our favorite team. And at night when we fell asleep before going to sleep we dreamed with open eyes, that we scored the crucial goal at the last minute and then after climbing the railings, we celebrated with the fans of the stands. Do not tell me that most of you when you are not young have not imagined this image even once?
The reason for today's, a bit heretical text was given to me by the epic and dramatic qualification of Athletic Bilbao in the UEFA final (for us traditional players, the event will remain in our minds forever as a UEFA Cup).
Let's start from the beginning. Both Wednesday's game between REAL and BAGERN, as well as the semi-final of ATHLETIC with SPORTING, I watched from the couch of my home. In both games, I saw the first half, with the presence of my daughter asking me various strange questions, such as why they kick the ball with their feet and why they do not hit it with their hands, as Volleyball's uncle plays, until and why not put Mickey and Daisy to play with them.
The second half, on the couch alone, with the others at home sleeping. Only in the semifinals of the Champions League, at some point between the second half and extra time, I also surrendered in the arms of Morpheus. It may have been a fantastic game, but I fell asleep - between us how long can one stand watching the unbeaten Eftari of the Madrid team, straightening hair, straightening socks and getting ready to commit a foul by opening the legs, not to mention how. When I woke up I just saw this German player, Schweinsteiger, celebrating and waving his shirt in the faces of 90 thousand Madridians.
But on Thursday, jealousy. The eye is wide open to watch a great team teach passion and unconventional football. A team that is not the fashion of the time, like Barça with the game but playstation. A group that literally represents an entire people, the Basques. A team set up to fight the system. A team he coaches, Marcelo Bielsa, a man nicknamed El Loco, meaning Crazy, who once asked a footballer if he was really crazy, to which he replied "No, he's even crazier".
A team that in the final, representing the Resistance and Pride. Refusing to submit to the modern sirens of Marketing. Resisting like a modern Gaul village to the demands of modern times.
Be good guys from faraway Baskonia. You are the football we love and we all want to see the romantic connoisseurs of this sport. And I am sure that when the great Giorente, after the whistle of the end burst into tears, on the grass of San Mamés, the so-called Lion's Pit, the cathedral of football, all the gods of football cried with him with joy.
And because football is a microcosm of society, Athletic teaches us that money does not move and does not define everything in this life. That sometimes relying on your own strengths can work wonders.