It is inevitable to refer from the start to rosalia and his Motomami, who turned one year old on Saturday and who, in all this time, has been number 1 and more than that, a true social, economic, musical phenomenon and whatnot. Those of Spotify made it easy for us chroniclers, because it was only a matter of reviewing the lyrics of the Catalan singer’s songs and conveniently placing them in the discourse on the classic. Only? Before the game I studied all of them, without music, because I wasn’t up for “perreos& rdquor; and it turns out that, as someone said referring to the water lilies of Ruben Dario and his evanescent verses, he understood nothing more than the prepositions.
Even so, I kept delving into the literature of rosalia and I was left with a couple of lines from “Saoko” and another two from “Despechá & rdquor;. I told myself: depending on how Barça plays, I already have half a chronicle in my bag. In the first one you hear: “Hey, I am very mine, I transform myself; a butterfly, I transform myself & rdquor ;. And in the second; “I already decided that tonight he goes out, with all my motomami, with all my gyale& rdquor;.
Smells like League
And here, indeed, was the crux of the matter. Barça, in the position of practically winning the League or leaving room for the recovery of Madrid and some hypothetical last days of heart attack, decided to play for transformation. In other words, the team that, at the Bernabéu, in the Cup, looked like an Italian team from before, hanging from the frame, came out with a wild impetus, at least in those first ten minutes that dazzled us. Later, phases of more suffering came, and that silly own goal, but also the display of tenacity and grit, in the absence of large doses of quality. And the goals arrived, right in the last minutes, when the whites could no longer react, neither in the first half nor in the second. The important thing, however, is that Barça became a transformed butterfly, because for many minutes they dedicated themselves to playing soccer, perhaps because of the atmosphere, perhaps because they knew that this was the golden opportunity, perhaps because it was not said that Madrid was superior.
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Rosalía was also right with “Despechá & rdquor;. On Sunday night, her father’s day, even with the Catalan cream in her throat, we were able to verify that “going out with all the motomami & rdquor; It was something like rowing all together, with a huge Sergi Roberto in command and with Araujo that most of the times dried up Vinicius Jr. and that, from time to time, he even dared to go out shot by the band, almost like a gazelle. Leaving meant facing the challenge of a more cohesive squad (Madrid’s) but perhaps with less desire to party than Barça’s. This is how we saw it at the end, in a celebration that smells like the League.
The club, afflicted with all ills and with laporta whining on stage, like old times, but without explaining exactly what happened to negreira, just giving free rein to emotions, urgently needed something like killing the usual rival on the field. In the end, suffering, that’s how it was. Butterfly coming out of “perreo & rdquor ;. rosalia I was right.