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Guardiola and the drug in Madrid’s cocoa


The number of fans who prefer to embrace yet another conspiracy theory continues to grow, rather than acknowledging that Pep Guardiola has given them another football lesson with the windows wide open, that is to say, with the whole world watching. They speak instead, almost shamelessly, of an intentional poisoning, one administered to Real Madrid’s first team. In short, they speak as if a drug had been slipped into the team’s cocoa, as if the Manchester club had recently fallen into the hands of the descendants of José Tojeiro, may he rest in peace. This is the level of stress that only Pep seems capable of subjecting the most decorated club in history to.

Three in three, five in six | Manchester City manager Pep Guardiola has made the Premier League his.
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Three in three, five in six | Manchester City manager Pep Guardiola has made the Premier League his.CARL RECINEREUTERS

If Madrid were to play one of their European Cups against Guardiola every time they face off, they would already owe him one: another projected figure that gives us an idea of the magnitude of the situation. Or the tragedy, depending on how you look at it. Because something tragic must lie in that irrational determination to strip Guardiola of all his merits, to deny him his due credit, to not recognize that he offers something beautiful to the world, that he has changed football and that he wins more than anyone. Fifty titles adorn his record. And yet, every day, in every corner of the world, or on any social network, there’s someone repeating the same old story, a high school dropout, a dictator in exile, or a pianist without a piano saying, “Pep Guardiola is a failure.” It’s better to believe in poisoning theories, chemtrails, and drug-laced cocoa, I’m telling you the truth: people respect you more if you tell them that.

In any other country, he would have been considered for a royal or presidential award for sports, just like his good friend Manel Estiarte. Or maybe not, because the damage inflicted would have been the same, and in the end, Madridism is universal. He doesn’t need it either. He is the beast of the team of gods. He is Sant Jordi enclosing the dragon in his own area. He is that con-artist actress who reconstructed the Tojeiro case for television and said, “Open up, José. It’s us.”

A piece of advice, José: don’t open up.