A pillar of salt. That is the destiny of those who insist on living with their neck turned towards yesterday. Neither the future nor the present are built with memory. You cannot serve what is served or eat what is eaten. Backtracking is a return to nowhere. The memory is a treasure as valuable as it is treacherous, if one insists on making it flesh again. So let's leave Messi alone and stop blowing the tiresome and cloying bagpipe of his return. What a headache, by God! Ours with him was and is a love that does not need revalidation. Still there. Only we no longer sleep and should not sleep in the same bed. And it's OK. Because as Javier Krahe used to sing, not everything is going to be fucking.
When poverty comes through the door, love jumps out the window. Going bankrupt and destitute was our only sin with Lionel. So there is nothing to redeem yourself from. If anything regret that life is as it is and not otherwise. But that is an unproductive lament that leads nowhere. There are no faults to be forgiven. We owe nothing, neither we to him, nor he to us, more than gratitude. As the melodic would sing, he was ours, only ours. The first experience of him and the awakening of his flesh were drunk by us. And he was the best of drinks.
It would be a mistake to return it. For us and also for the Argentine. That folder is well closed. That the last paragraph of the story, the goodbye, is not the most successful is no reason to try to rewrite it. The book is read and where it should be, on the shelf that presides over the library. Rewriting it for a blur would make it worse. Let's take it for granted and shield ourselves from that possibility.
Temptations are served by the devil in the best of dishes. The memory is still too vivid not to project it every time the team falls off a cliff in Europe because of its immaturity and shortcomings in disappointing games like Milan. Each stumble brings back a frame of Messi, the short giant who dominated the world dressed as a Blaugrana. But that Messi no longer exists and is unrecoverable. He is a chrome of history.
The temptation to continue gnawing on the bone of romanticism is inevitable, even at the risk of breaking the teeth to reach the marrow. It shouldn't go that far. You have to protect your teeth. And for that it is better to bite young and tender meat. And there are plenty of them on the market. We do not want to say that Messi only serves to make broth. The same is pocketing the corrupt World Cup that is just around the corner. I wish. But even if that happened, it wouldn't be a good idea to share a bed again. At the first snore we would realize that we are not lying with whom we lay. So better, President Laporta, let that ghost rest.
