Humanity intrudes into that realm like fifa 16 mule account a bear at a formal dinner party, demanding our attention even as we don’t quite know what to do with it. When Dani Alves had the presser that laid his beating heart bare, we discussed his motives, his spot on the team and his future, we did almost everything except celebrate the wonderful humanity of a player sitting down in front of a microphone and, in effect, being a human being. You want a better wage, and more respect from your boss? So does Alves. Supporters feel rivalries. If you are a Bar?a supporter, you want Real Madrid to lose all the time, every match. You want them to get caught by every light in traffic, to have the hot water heater break in their locker room, to have gophers invade the Bernabeu pitch. Everything bad that can happen, culers want it to happen. And their supporters feel the same way about Bar?a. Bring on your worst, fate, and let’s do this.
But players are professionals, plying their trade in a game that increasingly seems to want to winnow out humanity. The true characters are dwindling, the seemingly larger-than-life people who make you cheer and shake your head at the same time.
The honesty is complete, so complete it’s almost stunning. The game measures meters that a player runs. The people in the stands want to see a sweat-soaked shirt as a tangible sign of effort. When Thierry Henry was at Bar?a, his detractors always said that he didn’t sweat for the shirt. So for Berbatov to admit that, well, he wasn’t really interested in those tangible manifestations of effort is in many ways as beautiful as a goal or a painting. Because like Pique copping to being culer to the core, to being one of us in that most sublime way that makes us wish ill for our rivals, The Continental is human in an inhuman world.
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