You are not worth football

Soccer is an invention of the poor, stolen by the rich. This statement has gained popularity on social media this week and sums up the feelings of many fans after learning that this season's La Liga match between Villarreal and Barça will be played in the United States. Class warfare returns!... this time over the ball.

“Come on, kids, it only hurts the first time!” is the most encouraging thing you can say to those who reason like this. It's not that their complaint is unfounded or that their indignation isn't fully justified, it's just that it comes completely out of time. These nostalgic fans should know that the time they idolize has been dead and buried for many years now. Take note, my dear ones: the roaring stadium stands have long since ceased to be the heart of football.

The local fan who pays the season ticket is no longer a main actor, but pure filler in the end.

The home fan, proud of the season ticket he religiously pays, which his father and grandfather before him paid for, is no longer a leading actor in this film. He's not even good enough for a supporting role. The scriptwriters, step by step, have reduced him to the status of an extra. Necessary, yes, to give the show its luster and shine in all its splendor. But pure filler, in the end.

Anyone who sees a conspiracy of powerful people behind this curtain is mistaken. No one has stolen football from anyone. What simply happens is the inevitable with things that acquire value. The fishermen's cottages that are now the most glamorous tourist enclaves in the world were once home to simple people who barely had enough to survive in an environment that was the most hostile to a comfortable life. Today, they are inhabited for a few days a year by high-net-worth individuals, and the surroundings have acquired a paradisiacal appearance. Ownership changed hands because it became desirable. The same has happened with football.

The homesick fan must be shaken out of his self-deception. Forced to bring his feet back to the ground so that he accepts that at the celebration of football, he is merely last in line. He must accept that only when everyone else—television, sponsors, governing bodies, directors of all kinds and conditions, etc.—is suitably satiated and begins to belch with satisfaction, is he allowed to shovel the leftovers into his mouth. Hence the impossible schedules, the incomprehensible matchdays, and, for some time now, also the local competitions, including the Spanish League starting this season, played wholly or partially abroad.

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There's a phrase that's often used to demonstrate that no one is superfluous in a project, not even the one who occupies the most modest position of responsibility. It goes like this: no one is indispensable, but everyone is necessary. How wonderful if it were true! But it's easy to see that, if anyone is superfluous in the world of football, it's none other than the loyal local fan. You, for example.