Football owes one to Athletic, rather to its fans. If someone has lived the Cup and has given it a thunderbolt, it has been the rojiblanco club and its loyal fans. 41 finals endorse us, and 24 titles.
Fifth Cup final for Athletic so far this century. 41 in total. Not bad for a team that lives off romanticism, a century-old philosophy, and a population of three million people.
It is what fills us with pride. Always among the greats. Tonight should be a party, although we are still brooding over the defeat of 15 days ago with the neighbors.
Athletic, let's not forget it, play a final today, another one. The rest, removing Barça, will see it on TV.
We are proud, even if we know that the subject is screwed. The reality is harsh. Yuri Y Yeray, between cottons since last week; Muniain, half lame; the fans, at home.
In front? A super team. Messi, From Jong, Busquets, Ter Stegen, Griezmann, Sunrise… More than 800 million of market value. Almost nothing.
This week he needed to find a reason for hope, a foothold on which to lift the cupbearer trophy. A friend left me a compilation of the four novels written by Enrique Jardiel Poncela, and look where, that's where I found my motivation.
In “La tournée de Dios”, the writer fables with a visit from the great maker to Earth. Now that is a miracle.
Written in the middle of the Second Republic, God's visit was scheduled for … April 17! A team that plays in San Mamés, has a Cathedral as its field, prays the Lord's Prayer before the matches, escapes stubbornly from the hell of Segunda, resists the temptations of foreign demons and offers its triumphs to the amatxo of Begoña cannot be against bye.
The Barça already has to Messi to his side. Matter of matching.