Real Madrid – Real Sociedad | The Beguinage of Iaki de Mujika: With the music elsewhere

HA week ago I wrote in this section that between them they had made my head look like an exhausting euphonium concert. I did not think of anything, or anyone, and of course there was no intention of disturbing. At that moment that instrument passed through the imagination, as the helicon, the vihuela, the bazantar, the theremin or the aboriginal didgeridoo could have done. All so original, all so different. I could include the harpsichord, whose special sound I shared in the concerts of María Teresa Chenlo, who invited us to her house to listen to the recitals she prepared with the sonatas of Padre Soler, those of Turina, or Andalusian music. Even a concert of avant-garde music that was very hard for me. The director was José Luis Temes and he wanted me to accompany him that afternoon of the debut at the Círculo de Bellas Artes in Madrid.

I respect those who make music their reason for being, as composers, performers and music lovers. I have lived it since I was a child. My mother sang opera, made an album and enjoyed playing the song at all hours of the day. Madame Butterfly by Puccini. The brother of a great-grandfather composed music for bands and I always heard at home that the target for Saint Peter’s Day in Irun belonged to him. I was a student of music theory and piano of the teacher Maria Pilar Etxebeste, when the surname was written with ch and v. She always encouraged me by highlighting good hearing. I have attended many concerts and recitals in which I was always at ease. So if one day it is called, and I can, I will not miss the appointment with the euphonium, whom I elevate to the altars so that those who have felt affected are understanding.

That said, I’m going with the music elsewhere. For example, to Manchester. What bad taste! I rarely tell about the personal relationship I have with athletes. I confess that when I saw, comfortably seated on the sofa, Lindelöf’s wiggle at Jon Bautista, I thought it had thrown him off his feet. At the end of the contest, I sent him a message of solidarity. As he is an extraordinary boy, very polite, he answered at the moment. “I’m fine. Don’t worry. Nothing hurts. It has been a pride to play on such a field and stand up to them.” That was the spirit of a player who must have felt like he was run over by a herd of buffalo. The adventures of young soccer players, marked by the txuri-urdin stigma, teach us to understand many things that do not transcend abroad, but that beat rapidly in the personal self of each one of them. They will not forget the experience of the moment thanks, among other things, to the trust that the coach places in them. When situations like this arise, beyond elimination, they live with passion every minute of the game, knowing how much it has cost them to get there.

A tie is finished, in which the matches have been played far from the heat of home so that nothing is missing. A third date was followed that was not mucus of turkey. Valdebebas, Real Madrid and the needs of each other to score with similar objectives. We were missing Illarramendi and Merino, in addition to the long-range injured. The technician gave the command to Guevara and Zubimendi. Who said fear? I don’t know if they understand much about music, or what their tastes are, but in the first half their game sounded heavenly. They lacked the accompaniment of a part of the orchestra. Sometimes, saving the many distances with asceticism and mysticism, I feel like Saint Teresa of Jesus: I live without living in my. I had the feeling that we were getting a penalty like the crown of a pine tree. Neither the referee, nor those who govern the monitors, nor the commentators, nor almost anyone dared to say and decide that it was a shoot from eleven meters. The team endured very well, with order and calm, despite the fact that the rival had opportunities to have put the game in another direction.

Also the Real, after the break. A brilliant and daring departure changed the decoration and a center of Monreal (renovation please) Portu finished him off at the back of the net. It’s when I know I’m going to get nervous. To the kitchen, to make dinner and wait for time to pass. An enormity was missing from the end! This type of encounter takes a long time, especially when you play away from home. The tie came in that minute that kills you, with fortune allied with the rival. There was nothing left to savor the victory, but a launch, including a detour, left us halfway. It is possible, by asking the parishioners before the meeting if they sign a tie, that we will find many affirmative answers. Too bad about the center of Portu that Isak didn’t get to. It was a beautiful opportunity that, with a two-goal lead, would have rewarded the collective game in a better way. Distribution of points, we do not lose the oremus and we go with the music to another part that in Madrid we have already offered a good concert.

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