evieroo

Individuals don’t win football games, teams do. Whether it’s the controlled steady nature of an old Spanish flame or the fresh and icy Italian breeze tossing the waves; rising and falling and leaping and bounding, wild and passionate. It was that day unlike any other day for many number of days that Spain lost a knockout game to Conte’s Italia. And I hope they may always be spoken of as Conte’s Italia , for the man with the volcanic personality shouting the wind into alignment deserves to be the man who is recognized for Spain’s defeat.   Spain were autumn leaves that night when they could have been the summer. La Furia Roja was a dwindling flame to their once all-consuming power. Don’t get me wrong, they were still masters at their familiar game, outstanding on a familiar stage - their control, their precision, their stillness. They had the best line up in the EURO2016 tournament. They were still where they once were. But that’s just it. That is all they were.  ...

Hence comes the conclusion of yet another El Clasico. As the commentator said before the match, “There have been 15 clasico’s in the past 2 years, each one more important than the last.” But was what we saw today really a Clasico? To Clasico or not to Clasico, that is the question. Of course many would argue that the rightful definition of an El Clasico is any game in which FC Barcelona plays their century old rivals Real Madrid CF.    But is that all El Clasico is? As a passionate fan of Spanish football El Clasico has come to mean so much more than just a game, played by so much more than just players, between so much more than just teams, representing so much more than just clubs. El Clasico is the game which looks like the sunrise at dawn on a slightly chilly morning. It’s a game which smells like the delightful aroma of freshly baked bread.  It tastes like a crispy apple, with sweet juices coating your lips.  It feels like a w...