I'm still alive. I curro to the neck, the world has stopped turning for me this past week, and I swear I am not exaggerating at all when I say that I am totally isolated from society, and my life is reduced to the largest runs.
My physical appearance begins to be deplorable. My only relationship with the world of football, is to look in the mirror recently lifted, and after so long without going to the hairdresser with that hair "with the afro", I look and I think Maradona, Maradona.
Right now, I coseguido take a little time, and after reading the press a while, I'm not out of my astonishment:
- Robben, that was a sign that Calderon has been on the verge of joining Barca.
- Ronaldinho, who was a God does nothing, now it smells like AC Milan. Eto'o, until the plague anything, it now appears that he stays.
- Messi, who on Friday was the third wheel, now is as I just raised: Maradona. Deco
- A one hundred years have fallen abruptly, and being the most complete midfielder in Europe, has come to join the travel of Inserso.
- Real, who was a team given up, now is going to win twelve games at once, and will be champion of everything. Well, or the League, which is all that remains.
- Metzelder, who was already signed, now wait a few weeks. Will be a non destabilize the workforce, as they will win twelve games in a row ...
- Barca was going to make a staff turnover ... has begun to renovate a Belletti.
I return to the monotony, disconnected from everything, until the weekend. The first weekend, where the new team invincible, start the streak of twelve wins until the end of the season. Because if he says Calderon, can only be truth. Or is the super-pressure has ever lied?
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