Red in a tracksuit: Piqué's dream ending

Let's see how I explain it: if Piqué had kicked my mother in a shopping center two years ago, or three, I would have already forgiven her.

Perhaps not at the time - a mother is a mother - but now that he says goodbye, that it begins to be a mythological memory anchored in our memory.

The body, the soul, even ask us to keep only the good and bury the bad, which was abundant in recent years.

We will see if any of those trips are also forgiven by ordinary justice, that is another story and our tender cow eyes will have nothing to do with the process.

Gerard Piqué, grandson of Amador Bernabéu, originally has a surname embedded with which Bilardo could build an entire esoteric universe, so obsessed with cabals that he would have recommended killing his grandfather or killing his grandson, one of two: that's how he won a World Cup with Argentina, turning the absurd into fundamental.

What came later, his premature Erasmus on the way to Manchester, his return when the most rancid of the stands advocated making him pay the alleged betrayal with contempt, is part of a love story like Barça has rarely experienced, in love with his legs and his eyes, his intelligence and daring, his excesses and virtues.

As my esteemed Albert Martín Vidal says: "we couldn't have dreamed of a better centre-back".

And believe me that one embraces the colors of Barça because, from a very young age,

In his retirement match, the one that will appear in the annals of history as his official goodbye, he looked for the expulsion in the rest time and found it: nothing to object to, except the feeling that he put the final applause before the interests of a team that needed him in the second half and found the resignation of the idol signed in his own hand with saliva.

"A sad end to an illustrious career," Garrido said at SER.

“The only possible one for a god made flesh”, I thought, sitting on my sofa.

Zidane did it in his goodbye and Piqué did it in something that seems more like a see you later.

"I'll be back," said his own voice

.

Terminator running for club president, come on.

The best of the nineties combined with the usual self-confidence of the second millennium.

A necessary paragraph: the last verse in the legend of this proverbial Piqué, assures that the dream center-back saw the red card for telling Gil Manzano what almost all Barcelona fans thought.

And it is a quite plausible theory considering that Osasuna's goal comes after an action that only finds comparison in that intentional clash between Joan Laporta and Toni Freixa in the streets of Barcelona.

"Sorry, hem xocat," the then former president apologized jokingly.

They were years of laughing so as not to cry.

Much has been written about Piqué's relationship with Laporta himself these days and more will be written in the future.

Theirs is a complex relationship, full of nuances, but it is important not to lose sight of the way in which some illustrious voices from Barcelona have gone from pointing out Messi and Piqué as the main culprits of the Barça collapse, to crucifying Laporta himself as responsible for your departure.

That's how psychotic this club is that only characters like Piqué understand 100%, so culé that he fed his legend on contradictions and will lead the future riding on memories.

That Xavi criticized the expulsion of him at the end of his last game, does nothing but enlarge his legend: dead and on horseback he will continue to be talked about, like El Cid, but in tracksuits and handsome.

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