There are those who defend that soccer is a barbarian sport. Eleven millionaires in shorts running after a ball. Until just two or three decades ago, it was even undervalued by people of culture, a spectacle for ignorant commoners who wanted nothing to do with it. It reeked of snobs, who preferred to stay on the surface without scratching to guess what’s beyond. Saying that it was opium for the people allowed them to differentiate themselves, to put up a barrier with which, in this way, they remained in their watchtower. There will even be those who think this way today, but what is undoubted is that it is a sport with the potential to create authentic works of art. One of them rose yesterday in Lasesarre, in a historically working-class settlement. Barakaldo Desert they called it. And in the middle of that desert Riki took the brush to make Munch’s ‘El grito’ look like a guy singing a Racing goal.
It was the 17th minute and Racing was not comfortable. Nothing to do with how he was at that same height of the game against Laredo. The ball did not last at all, he could not find the bands or the ability to reach and believe he was a dangerous team. He was clear that his time would come but the dangerous dynamic with which the meeting had begun was not completely altered. They weren’t harassing him much, but he didn’t really have the game under control either. He was beginning to realize that he might be starting a long afternoon.
If there was something that differentiated yesterday’s game from the previous weekend’s, it was that Riki was not entirely comfortable and the ball was not reaching him too clean. The pressure was high and he had to delay his position a lot to be able to control it and start playing. This is what he had to do when that 17th minute was born. Lucas Díaz got hold of a ball that he missed and quickly gave it to Mantilla so that he could start playing. At that moment, Óscar Gil leaned to the left side so, as usual, Riki was placed between the two centrals. However, the canterano gave it to his teammate from Peralta, who found an open door because the pressure was pending on the Asturian and advanced meters.
Racing’s intention was to handle the ball short and combine in the midfield to mature their rival, but it cannot always be achieved. On this occasion, Gil opted for a long ball that wanted to take him quickly to the position of Cedric, who was the player who was in front of the attack. However, the ball was out of control until Riki appeared again on the scene, who had not been erased from the play once he had been left behind. He accompanied her and it was then that he began his work of art. In his case, inspiration caught him painting.
The Asturian midfielder went ahead to a sleepy rival player who didn’t think he was going to find Riki there. It was he who altered the normal development of events with a defensive action and a robbery that seemed not to go with him. And thanks to that, he found a large plot of playing field all to himself, for his use and enjoyment. He could do whatever he wanted there: a swimming pool, a luxury development or a roundabout. He wanted to play soccer, lay down his hat and build a work of art that, from yesterday, will leave its mark forever in Lasesarre.
The Asturian advanced well aware of the ball but without losing sight of the goalkeeper’s position. No one was on him or breathed on his neck. At a certain distance, the entire defensive line of Barakaldo was maintained, which remained in its position as if its priority was to keep the wall up and not prevent the green-and-white midfielder from playing. They thought he was going to look for a pass to the band to continue the play there because they were not able to see the light that illuminated his face. It was inspiration. Things are going so well for him at Racing that he dared to do the impossible.
Riki did not look sideways, only straight ahead. He already knew what he wanted to do and the most tremendous thing is that he looked capable of doing it. He did not even give the sensation at any time of raising his head to see where the goalkeeper was. Either he had it very studied, or he sensed where he was going to be because that is where they usually are when the ball is where it was at that moment or it has radar antennas on it. The fact is that before reaching the semicircle of the area and with a few meters to collide with that defensive line that was well formed as if his priority were to have a privileged place to watch the show, he executed the play.
Suddenly, Riki poked the ball looking for a Vaseline. It seemed crazy because the goalkeeper was not far from his goal. To everyone it seemed a utopian attempt, but without seeking utopia it is difficult to change anything. The ball surpassed that defensive barrier that saw the precious object of desire pass over their heads. He will be able to go to goal, but it cannot be a goal, the gualdinegros defenders must have thought. The ball continued to advance responding to a trajectory so well designed that it seemed to be directed by all those NASA technicians who carried Perseverance to Mars. The ball was getting dangerously close to the goal. That should have been for Rabanillo without problems and he must have thought so, but when he raised his arms to hunt the treasure, it also passed him over.
The spaces were so scarce, there was so little air between the goalkeeper’s back and the goal, that it gave the feeling that the ball had only one way to go. And the launch of Riki neither lacked nor had any centimeter left. His launch was like Luke Skywalker’s shot, hitting the only hole that could damage the Death Star. It seemed impossible and, after passing Rabanillo bypass, it gave the impression that the ball was going to go over the goal, but it was not. As if by magic, he came down suddenly until he sneaked into the goal. It seemed so incredible that it took a long time for the collective celebration to begin. You can’t trust your eyesight. That should have gone outside, but no, it entered. Cedric, who was next to the goalkeeper and saw the ball go in clean, put his hands to his head and quickly ran to the band to celebrate. Having been a direct witness to such a work of art deserved to throw the house out the window.
– .
