Stories and News No. 1109
It's evening, the couch is ready, the fridge too, as well as the drinks attached.
Because there is no match without them.
Players? No, those are obvious, and this is the most sensational blunder.
Also shameful, I add.
The beers, I mean, possibly lots of them, so that they can soothe the pain for the eventual defeat.
The racist fan gains excitedly the living room and leads his indolent backside on the soft, before the cathodic altar.
The astonishing huge screen, purchased by installments and not yet fully paid, is waiting to be brought to the maximum of the soccer level.
He clicks the sacred button on the remote control and...
What's up?
Empty screen, white field, not even a reassuring green, nothing in attack as in defense, midfield absent and, above all, unprotected football goal, even more distressing scenario of a border without gendarmes.
Where are them?
Not the beers, gosh.
Where are the professional ball kickers?
The fan trembles like an irremediably dry leaf, but still with an angry desire to annoy the world.
Absolutely in vain.
The screaming creature, a supporter with the same obstinacy for the home team, as well as the free insulting towards the foreign one, finds himself in front of the perfect nightmare, not the storm.
No more world championships, but neither Champions League nor national championships, prestigious trophies or just makeshift cups to be conquered.
Because today's nightmare is nothing but the precise and coherent realization of yesterday's crazy dream.
In fact, in this shocking day, France found itself instantly deprived of its best players.
For the record, among them, the most scintillating French talent, Kylian Mbappé, followed his immigrant parents in Cameroon, Paul Pogba in Guinea and Ousmane Dembélé in Mali.
Same destiny for England, whose team is largely composed of brilliant second-generation diversities.
Dele Alli is now with his father in Nigeria, Marcus Rashford in Tanzania and Raheem
Sterling in Jamaica.
Identical fate for Belgium.
You know, it is really hard to identify citizens of thoroughbred origin in the national team, so the striker Romelu Lukaku flew to Congo, Marouane Fellaini to Morocco and Yannick Ferreira Carrasco is still at the airport, as he has not yet decided between dad’s Portugal or mom's Spain.
Do we want to talk about Switzerland? Come on, let's talk about what's left of it, because among others, Xherdan Shaqiri left for Kosovo, Granit Xhaka for Albania and Ricardo Rodríguez... well, almost same Carrasco’s dilemma, suspended between Chile and Spain.
And what about the blonde Germany?
Among the various exotic cases, Mesut Özil was spotted in Turkey with Sami Khedira, while the latest news on Jérôme Boateng end in Ghana.
The equally former Nordic Sweden has been similarly depleted of its talents, so Jimmy Durmaz is now in Syria, Martin Olsson in Kenya and John Guidetti in Brazil, just as Denmark has suddenly lost Yussuf Poulsen to Tanzania, Pione Sisto to Uganda and Thomas Delaney paradoxically thought it was a good time to return with his family to the United States.
Obviously, I think it is useless to mention the consequent disappearance from every screen and even trading cards album of champions from Brazil, Argentina, Colombia and even Portugal, migrating nations by definition, or mere destination.
The fan is now victim of an overwhelming anxiety, suddenly fading his face skin, already pale of its own.
Because this is what happens if nightmares take literally the delirium of the dull ones.
The beers are what remain and the poor guy drains the whole and now only team on the field, the six ones.
What follows is a disturbed sleep, almost as much as the usual panic-stricken sleeper's vigil.
Later, the intolerant fan with public pride, despite his head aching from the violent hangover, lifts his eyelids hopeful and first grabs the trusted remote control.
May the god of the beginning whistle be blessed, he rejoices within himself.
It's the first time that he does not cry losing a game.
Because, although deprived of his spirited eyes and his frenzied screams, the match was played according to the rules.
Yeah, the rules, the fan thinks.
The game rules are important, but they must be updated, so that the sovereigns of the patriot sofa continue to enjoy their privileges.
Stop the immigrants, of course, let’s make the wall great again, it is clear, everyone in his country, is obvious.
Let the grabbing votes and idiots slogans remain so.
However, at the same time, the precious, opportunely tacit exceptions must be extended.
Go ahead for the rich people, whatever country they come from, and also those who are particularly good at playing football...
Read more racism stories
Buy my English Italian, dual language books
Listen my music band
Watch my last storytelling show with English and Italian subtitles Sunset
Storytelling videos with subtitles
It's evening, the couch is ready, the fridge too, as well as the drinks attached.
Because there is no match without them.
Players? No, those are obvious, and this is the most sensational blunder.
Also shameful, I add.
The beers, I mean, possibly lots of them, so that they can soothe the pain for the eventual defeat.
The racist fan gains excitedly the living room and leads his indolent backside on the soft, before the cathodic altar.
The astonishing huge screen, purchased by installments and not yet fully paid, is waiting to be brought to the maximum of the soccer level.
He clicks the sacred button on the remote control and...
What's up?
Empty screen, white field, not even a reassuring green, nothing in attack as in defense, midfield absent and, above all, unprotected football goal, even more distressing scenario of a border without gendarmes.
Where are them?
Not the beers, gosh.
Where are the professional ball kickers?
The fan trembles like an irremediably dry leaf, but still with an angry desire to annoy the world.
Absolutely in vain.
The screaming creature, a supporter with the same obstinacy for the home team, as well as the free insulting towards the foreign one, finds himself in front of the perfect nightmare, not the storm.
No more world championships, but neither Champions League nor national championships, prestigious trophies or just makeshift cups to be conquered.
Because today's nightmare is nothing but the precise and coherent realization of yesterday's crazy dream.
For the record, among them, the most scintillating French talent, Kylian Mbappé, followed his immigrant parents in Cameroon, Paul Pogba in Guinea and Ousmane Dembélé in Mali.
Same destiny for England, whose team is largely composed of brilliant second-generation diversities.
Dele Alli is now with his father in Nigeria, Marcus Rashford in Tanzania and Raheem
Identical fate for Belgium.
You know, it is really hard to identify citizens of thoroughbred origin in the national team, so the striker Romelu Lukaku flew to Congo, Marouane Fellaini to Morocco and Yannick Ferreira Carrasco is still at the airport, as he has not yet decided between dad’s Portugal or mom's Spain.
And what about the blonde Germany?
The equally former Nordic Sweden has been similarly depleted of its talents, so Jimmy Durmaz is now in Syria, Martin Olsson in Kenya and John Guidetti in Brazil, just as Denmark has suddenly lost Yussuf Poulsen to Tanzania, Pione Sisto to Uganda and Thomas Delaney paradoxically thought it was a good time to return with his family to the United States.
Obviously, I think it is useless to mention the consequent disappearance from every screen and even trading cards album of champions from Brazil, Argentina, Colombia and even Portugal, migrating nations by definition, or mere destination.
The fan is now victim of an overwhelming anxiety, suddenly fading his face skin, already pale of its own.
Because this is what happens if nightmares take literally the delirium of the dull ones.
The beers are what remain and the poor guy drains the whole and now only team on the field, the six ones.
What follows is a disturbed sleep, almost as much as the usual panic-stricken sleeper's vigil.
Later, the intolerant fan with public pride, despite his head aching from the violent hangover, lifts his eyelids hopeful and first grabs the trusted remote control.
May the god of the beginning whistle be blessed, he rejoices within himself.
It's the first time that he does not cry losing a game.
Because, although deprived of his spirited eyes and his frenzied screams, the match was played according to the rules.
Yeah, the rules, the fan thinks.
The game rules are important, but they must be updated, so that the sovereigns of the patriot sofa continue to enjoy their privileges.
Stop the immigrants, of course, let’s make the wall great again, it is clear, everyone in his country, is obvious.
Let the grabbing votes and idiots slogans remain so.
However, at the same time, the precious, opportunely tacit exceptions must be extended.
Go ahead for the rich people, whatever country they come from, and also those who are particularly good at playing football...
On the same topic:
Gambia goalkeeper last match
Watch the video storytelling with English subtitles:
What are viruses today
Watch the video storytelling with English subtitles:
What are viruses today
Read more racism stories
Buy my English Italian, dual language books
Listen my music band
Watch my last storytelling show with English and Italian subtitles Sunset
Storytelling videos with subtitles