Hello! hello! the Champions beginsthe one with the goals, the one with the emotion, the one with the spectacle, the usual one, the classic one, the one with the essential sound… I’m sorry, last night too, as has happened to me since Sunday, at 8:17, when he called me Tomas Guasch and he announced to me that we had lost Pepe “but we have really lost him, Emilio,” he couldn’t stop thinking about Pepe Domingo Castaño. He was the Pepe of Spain. It is enormous to be identified as Pepe, Pepe, a cigar!, in a Spain full of Pepes.
And, last night, the Champions League paid tribute to the great Pepe and, sure, it helped Paco Gonzalez to recover in front of the microphone because Pepe It belonged to everyone and because, of course, as he recognized Paco“it’s here, I’m sorry, I almost see it, and I know it will help me keep my voice from shaking and, above all, keep me from crying again.”
I know it wasn’t like that, I know, but I want to interpret, possibly because of the affection, devotion, admiration and how much I learned from Pepethat Barça wanted to participate in its own way, which is with football and goals, to the memory of the magician of advertising on the radio, of the man who might sell you a cigar, which pipes Facundo “a pleasure in this world”, than a Stihl brush cutter. counted Manolo Lama that one day, in Los Cármenes de Granada, a father approached him and told him to tell Pepe that “my son has asked for a Stihl brush cutter in his letter to the Three Wise Men.”
Pepe was the singing voice of COPE, like Xavi Hernandez It is from this renewed Barça. Pepe was the tone, the beautiful and precise song, as it is Joao Felix in this Barça that aspires to everything. True, let’s go little by little since he has not yet faced (almost) anyone. Pepe was the pause, the one that gives him De Jong to this set. Pepe It was the precision that the Barça forwards have. Pepe was the security that, with him, you would definitely win. Pepehe said PacoHe was the guy who best knew how to surround himself with good people. Look how Xavi.
This Barça falls in love. True, the Miuras have yet to appear on the scene. And this Barça scores without starting Yamal in none of the last two games when the boy had become, with Barça and Spain, the ‘rookie’ of Europe and not that Vermeerenfrom Antwerp, which Overmars announced us as the future Iniesta I Xavi.
That bitch Cancelo!
But, above all, please, let us have with this Barça the level of common sense, of sanity, of patience, of pause, that Pepe had in everything he did and said. Pepe It was the glue, the cement, of COPE in a world of crazy people, of singers, of non-stop guys. He was the comitre, the guy who beats the drum (he was a musician, he was a singer) so that the microphone rowers didn’t lose their rhythm.
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AND Pepe It was so good, so much, like that filigree I cancel, which Rabona centered, exaggerated, right? in the 24th minute, but as useful, as decisive, as accurate, as realistic, as effective as that Gavi who interrupted a counterattack, in the 36th minute, earning a yellow by stopping, somehow, Keita.
All Pepes are necessary. And loved. And admired.