First of all, I wanted to dedicate this post to my aunt Pilar, who is English teacher and it was her birthday on yesterday😃😘

And now, go on with the post…

<<This is 15 December 2002. A not-so-great Barça lost at home, 0-3, against Sevilla. Three goals that put the blaugrana team 24 points behind Real Madrid in the standings, Madrid’s maximum advantage over Barça, and almost 30 points behind the leader, Real Sociedad. This angered the fans so much that they waved white scarves, precisely the colour most hated by the Barça fans, for around 15 minutes.>>

So began the first chapter of my Stars Galaxy saga. It was my first chronicle, looking back, because as those of you who read my previous post (here is the link for those of you who haven’t yet: https://diariodeunvetescritor.blog/2024/06/27/from-stars-galaxy-to-my-blog-21-years-writing-stories/) know, this trilogy began to be written on 24 June 2003.

And that’s how I felt three nights ago watching my Españita, looking back, remembering the good moments of the National Team, those that made me as fond of the National Team as I was of my clubs Córdoba and Madrid. Moments and spectacle that, after a scepticism and reluctance that I had when the European Championship began almost three weeks ago, has turned into a greater following, not only for the tournament itself, but for the team that represents the country where I was born.

I was discussing it on Sunday morning with some meetupers (a nickname coined by our leader Dean for those who meet up at an event thanks to the Meetup mobile app), as we finished the walk/hike that took us to Warwick and back to Leamington. Spain’s biggest hurdle is today, against Georgia. Yes, it may be the easiest, the underdog of the tournament to sneak into the last 16, but that’s just the way it is. There is a trick to this match. This team beat Portugal 2-0 in their last group stage game, and they have nothing to lose. If Spain win tonight, then Germany, France, Portugal, England, England, Austria, Switzerland or whoever they face next, have nothing to do against our team. In that case, we won’t be favourites, just because of the way we are playing, and for that very reason, we will end up beating them and knocking them out of the tournament to win our fourth European Championship.

We’ll see in a couple of weeks, but I really believe it. I’m getting so excited about this team that it’s not that I didn’t believe in it before, it’s just that I didn’t care whether I got on the boat or stayed ashore, which, I think, is an even bigger change than the one I’ve undergone.

And then the match began. I wasn’t expecting an easy one. I admit it. I had said so before and I still believed it, despite the fact that this team’s play was something I had believed in since the first match I saw them in. In that game, against Italy, I didn’t even realise they were playing a great game, I even felt sleep and just wanted to go home, even before the Italians scored an own goal (and after, too 😂). And lo and behold, here too there was an own goal, but this time by the Spanish Team themselves and when they were playing better, after having Georgia locked in their own area for 13 of the first 16 minutes. But that’s football, my friend. And if you don’t get through, they get through. And it doesn’t matter if you’ve played like angels (those in Heaven, as those in basketball, both of them, are there to watch them…).

And then my Españita got nervous. And they were on the point of sneaking in a few more. Once, thinking he was Beckham, as Dean, who accompanied me on my left, would say, wondering why his England (Team) didn’t play football like Spain. Well, because they don’t want to, because they have the players to dance even with Spain (well, maybe not that much 🙏🏼😅).

But they soon got over it. And soon there was Rodri scoring a goal so often enjoyed by Englishmen other than Dean. Not him, because Dean is a fan of the National Team, but he’s not a fan of any club, and that’s why he asks me who Bowen is, and Palmer, and Gallagher (and the mother who bore them). He knows Beckham, Shearer, and some others who played in England’s Euros ’96, when the Newcastle striker scored a great goal against Switzerland in the group stage of that tournament. Switzerland, precisely…😏

And after the equaliser came the 2-1 goal from Fabián, that midfielder who played for Valencia and then went to PSG (to win the Champions League).

And the English men celebrated with shouts of Vamos! while still wondering why their England didn’t play like that. You already know the answer. And so do they, the English supporters.

And they played, and played, and after the break they scored. Third from a great Nico Williams (what a gallop!!! And what a goal!!!). And a fourth from a recently released Dani Olmo.

And that’s how the Spanish National Team beat a Georgia side that barely showed up. A couple of knocks on the door. A goal that was found without hitting the ball. And a rout that, after Spain’s display of football, came up short, dare I say it.

And now it’s Germany. On the fifth of July. Two days before the 14th anniversary of that header by Tiburón Puyol (great Andrés Montes, always in our memory), when he hung from God’s perch (this is not mine either, but Manolo Lama’s, in CR7’s 1-0 win that sentenced Barça in the 2011 Spanish Cup) to send the Germans home. And this year they’ll be closer to home…