Everyone knows - and here that "everyone" makes perfect sense - that for two years Neymar He has not played football. In the same way that nobody ignores that his biography has happened to resemble those of those chefs of great fame to whom the commercial environment finishes mounting franchises to them by all the world, but it prevents them to practice what was his great passion: to cook. In fact, all social networks, when Neymar completed his horrific Russian World Cup, laughed at the "theater of his falls". And well, the best pious tone that can be said of the current Neymar is what Jorge Valdano has written: "He is a pioneer of the 'footballer who comes' and he does not have the word 'guilty' because we are all responsible".
But even as a pioneer, it is not saved too much if we consider the number of pioneers who take away the spotlight these days. Gil and Gil, without going any further, our particular Trump with his series The pioneer, the story of an old nightmare ... The truth is that this summer, in football, is proving to be a nightmare for the partner of the Barça. Thanks to Griezmann and Neymar Júnior (God help us) I know more than one fan of the club who feels a growing detachment with respect to his team and the future of it, now governed by a sports management - now in the hands of a Bartomeu who seems an imitation of Florentino- without imagination, or perhaps with the disproportionate imagination of Messi outside the playing fields.
The fact is that the Barça of recent weeks reminds me of the ghost of a story by Dickens. In it, a vagabond, who has occupied an abandoned house, pretends to make a fire with a dilapidated closet, until he discovers that in it lives the spirit of a former inhabitant of the place. Do not burn me, the ghost asks the occupy, and he explains that among those four walls his ruin was forged in this world. Laughter of the vagabond when he realizes that the poor ghost, having the possibility as a ghost to choose the most wonderful places on earth (since infinite space is nothing for him), has chosen nothing less than to return to the site of his misfortunes, to the place where the worst happened. "You are the most dumb ghost I have ever met," the vagabond ends.
What if. The sports management of Barça is reminding me these days to that unhappy and awkward ghost, because, having as it has at his disposal many of the best players on earth, has so little imagination (or criterion) that nothing better occurs to him than to recover the player who caused the most misery in the club's most recent history. It is all nonsense, and more so when it is, for example, evident that in France they do not know how to do it to lose sight of this player, this grand bluff, as he defined it recently L'Équipe. In view of all this, I can only add one word: relief.