Before the match, the columnists formulate their disconcerting question: “Are you prepared to win?”
And they obtain an astonishing answer: “We will do everything possible to obtain victory.”
Later on, the broadcasters take the floor. TV anchors know they can’t compete with the images, so they just keep them company. Radio commentators, on the other hand, are a less fainthearted breed. These masters of suspense do more running than the players and more skidding than the ball. With dizzying speed they describe a game that bears little resemblance to the one you are watching. In that waterfall of words the shot you see scraping the sky is grazing the crossbar, and the net where a spider placidly spins her web from post to post while the goalkeeper yawns faces an imminent goal.
When the vibrant day in the concrete colossus ends, the critics have their turn. Already they have interrupted the broadcast several times to tell the players what to do, but the players did not listen because they were too busy making mistakes. These ideologues of the WM formation against the MW, which is the same thing but backward, speak a language where scientific erudition alternates with war propaganda and lyrical ecstasy. And they always speak in the plural, because they are many.