In Catalonia, we are experts in detecting early populism, provided it occurs in Argentina, the White House or Hungary. That is, far away.
The nationalist establishment is distinguished by its ability to award bulls in all areas, from theater to journalism, from music to cinema and, of course, with respect to what concerns Barça, a great institution in the country. Some take the anathemas, others the bulls...
The wreck of FC Barcelona has crystallized under the second era of Joan Laporta, whose election and mandate brings together all the elements that, if found elsewhere, define populism. Impossible promises, little transparency, Caesarism – friends and brothers-in-law, yes, executives and independents, out – and crazy financial management (being benevolent).
Nevertheless, President Laporta has and has had the bull of the establishment, without which requests for resignation would have been circulating on the networks and the usual propaganda circuit for months.
We are like this, what are we going to do about it? Laporta embodies the chest and neck that some admire so much, even believing that the Madrid banner was a bare-chested challenge when time has made it clear that the first supporter of it must have been Florentino Pérez and his Real Madrid, which it has Barça in the dream place: it exists but more harmless than ever.
Management aside, an entity that believes itself to be a model but without a euro cannot afford certain - and repeated - living-style images of the crazy life of its managers. We didn't come to this world to cry, but we didn't come to spend the summer either, let alone at the expense of others. The image of Barça that the president conveys can only be understood from this bull, which slows down an inevitable but, alas, extendable fall. The bad thing is that the ball doesn't go in and doesn't seem to go in, even if we don't rule out that this board of directors - to call it something - pulls cards from its sleeve to buy time. All populists are experts at selling smoke. Also in Catalonia.
Ah, a hug to Vitor Roque (61 million euros). Luckily there wasn't a euro in the coffers...
