
Oh dear. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. We weren’t supposed to see a bunch of highly-paid, diving, moaning, unscrupulous footballers trying their hardest to disgrace themselves in any way possible in the name of victory. Is victory worth your soul? Apparently it is.
The Champions League semi-final between Real Madrid and Barcelona was supposed to the creme de la creme of football; the ultimate in theory, thought, passion, technicality, expertise and glory. We didn’t see that. We saw something else. We saw a gross adherence to one’s own vulgar sense of self – a self that doesn’t care about the millions of people watching the world’s favourite game; a self whose dishonesty is considered just as key a skill as accurate passing.
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