“Does the Betis, than?” by Enrique Roldán
I consider myself a lucky. not by be Betis, that also, but because my job allows me out of Spain from time to time, learn from other cultures, meet new cities, And ultimately, grow as a person. But nevertheless, There is something that makes me feel a pinch in the chest every time I'm out of Sevilla. I do not speak to miss my neighborhood (I know I will never move from where you are), I also mean the distance from my family, girlfriend and friends, because I have no doubt that will continue in the same place when you return. But go to the Villamarin every Sundays… Woe unto the Villamarín! That feeling that envelops you tie your scarf the wrist and head Avenida de La Palmera becomes empty when, instead of being a voice in the stadium, hear the hymn through the speakers of a computer.
In those'm now. I'm specifically in Florence, where I lacked time to visit Artemio Franchi stadium and buy a ticket for the next match viola team. The city is beautiful, the welcoming people, and excellent food, but I've lived my first match of the season away from my Mecca, and the feeling of emptiness during the two hours that rolled the ball could not be covered either by the beauty of Santa Maria of the Fiore and the charm of the Ponte Vecchio. But nevertheless, the helplessness felt during the encounter made me recall my first memories as bético: the first time I entered the field, the first player who dazzled me ...
Me Kit of Betis It was a gift from my uncle, who kept repeating like a mantra, when I could barely utter a word, that of "Betis ... well, Sevilla ... caca ". Those four words can indelibly mark the future of a Seville, yes, depending on the way your mentor's ruling, as we face the most obvious case of alteration of the product by a change in the order of factors. But I really instilled this passion, This tweak completely irrational, was my grandfather José. My grandfather was born in Seville, He came to the world in a small village in the Malaga sierra, Cuevas de San Marcos for more signs, but soon he had to leave home to look for the future in the Andalusian capital. That was how he met Betis, becoming a clear example of bético whose cradle was not verdiblanca.
I still remember like it was yesterday visits, Always his hand, the sports city, where he not believes seeing players, today so far, as Merino, Olías O Ureña. I close my eyes and I see him talking to store clerk. There was no way to bring a poster of To walk, but he tried every time we approached. And of course, how not remember parties in the field. I did not have the card as a child, but in those days always opened the doors of the stadium as were 15 minutes, and there never were missing our short time in Gol Norte. In a time when there were few games Betis that could be seen on television, He followed by radio, more aware of the intercom that the goals of my team. So, when the clock marked the minute 20 of the second part, listened to the bell for me was heavenly. My grandfather called and I ran like a soul by the devil, because what I expected was the little road to the Villamarín.
They spent the seasons, and that passion, how could it be otherwise, was more. I became a partner Betis and started going on my own stadium, but round matches, the visit to the house of my grandfather was forced. "Betis, than?” I said every time he went out the door. I sat with him to tell him how the evening had gone, and when it had bad, always he spoke the same words: "I do not know what happens to the Betis. the touch, the touch, but when they reach the area never throw ". He kept lapsing time, and as age is a bitch unforgiving, My grandfather spent his last years bedridden, glued to the transistor every game and asking the same question when he entered her room: Does the Betis, than?
Death, "Beach with pity face", said Juan Carlos Aragon, He came to take my grandfather six years ago. For some reason I do not quite understand, I was unable to mourn that day, or the following, nor the other ... And so until a week later,, when I spent driving near the Villamarin. Then I felt a pinch, no chest, but in the soul. I got out of the car, I went to the field and that's when I let out all the tears she had not found out during the previous week. Since that day I have no doubt, every time you ask me what is the Betis, I have no doubt about it: Betis is my grandfather Jose.
One thought on ““Does the Betis, than?” by Enrique Roldán”
Precious Enrique, thanks for writing so nice. Kisses