SocceR 4 CoutuR9

I’m having a great moment. I wanted to prove myself after last season and to be the Sergio Ramos of past years. I feel similar to how I felt in my first-ever Real Madrid games, both physically and emotionally. I am excited about helping the team at my best.

I think the team is having its best moment of the season. We’ve gradually come up with our own style and we now play good football and enjoy ourselves on the pitch. We are fighting for the title with Barcelona. The difference between us is minimal and I believe the best thing we can do is continue to play like we’ve done so far.

Pellegrini has obviously stressed the importance of tactics and concentration. The defence tries to concede no goals, which is a difficult thing to do. The entire squad is helping out, which helps when it comes down to making counterattacks. In past years, people criticised the team’s defending and now it is worthy of praise.

That’s essential. You learn about tactics with years. I am more relaxed when I attack now because I know I’m covered.

That’s good. I’ve known him for years, since we both played in Spanish youth national teams. Being that close helps to do a good job on the pitch. I always feel comfortable when I’m paired with him as centre back. We know what we’re thinking just by looking at each other, but that’s not to say I don’t play equally well next to Garay, Pepe or another team-mate.

Of course it is. It guarantees at least a chance on goal against any team. And we know we’ll score from one in four chances because both of them are in tremendous form. Real Madrid have always had players that make a difference.

Atletico are rather strong right now and we won’t be able to make any mistakes in our ten remaining games, which are truly like finals. We’ll have to remain calm, be humble and focus on each game at a time. We have the advantage of playing our most complicated games at home. Our crowd will make things difficult for them.

Naturally. We need the support and excitement of the fans. We want to win the title and dedicate it to our fans.

I think a team’s success lies in the work of all its players. They have quality footballers that are currently having a great run, like Reyes, Forlan and Aguero, but it is team-work that has made them successful. We’ll have to watch out for the whole team, not just individual men. We’ll have to concentrate hard.

He is a great, young striker with a bright future.

I’ve always considered him to be one of the best strikers around. He works very hard. He always scores, regardless of how well or badly his team does.

I’m very happy for him. He can be one of the best wingers in the world when he’s at his best and I’m glad he is proving just how great a player he is.

Friends of mine there say the squad’s attitude has changed. I think he’s doing a good job.

I hope so. This is my fifth season here and I’ve had the fortune to take part in several derbies. Luckily, I’ve never lost one and I hope to keep this up because we need these three points.

We know we are strong and feel comfortable at the Bernabeu. We have to keep up the good work.

I don’t know. Six points will be at stake before it takes place. It will surely be a decisive game.

That was unheard of at the start of the season. We are having a good run right now and so are Barcelona. We have to win every game. We are determined to take 100 points or as many as it takes to win the title.

By playing against Getafe the Argentine will join select group of players including Raul, Casillas, Guti and Ramos

With eleven matches left this season and 20 goals under his belt, Gonzalo Higuain will play his 100th league match as a Madridista if he sees action on Thursday against Getafe.

In just over three and a half years as a Madridista, Gonzalo Higuain is on the verge of playing his 100th league match as a Madridista; a feat that only four other members of the current squad -Raul, Casillas, Guti and Sergio Ramos- have accomplished.

Higuain's name is already etched in Real Madrid's history books, though. One of his hat-trick goals against Valladolid was also the club's 1900th league goal as visitors.

This season, the Argentine striker is the most efficient goal-scorer in La Liga. He finds the back of the net every 75.20 minutes and has scored 20 goals in 21 matches. Leo Messi is second with a goal every 81.40 minutes and Cristiano Ronaldo third with one every 103.47 minutes.

Sergio Ramos tenía el apodo de Schuster cuando era un crío por su afán por incorporarse al ataque aprovechando su esplendoroso físico. Eso mismo fue lo que retrasó su posición hacia la zaga, pero su facilidad para ver puerta ha vuelto a quedar patente una vez más.

No por ventajistas, que lo son, las declaraciones, primero de Schuster o mejor dicho el silencio con el que insinuó que Raúl vetó el fichaje de Villa por el Real Madrid, y luego de Cicinho en las que el brasileño criticaba duramente al capitán calificándole de envidioso y denunciaba un trato de favor hacia él por parte del club, dejan un poso de duda que destapa otra versión del capitán blanco. Hay un Raúl de cara al exterior, ídolo, padre ejemplar, concienciado y activo en causas sociales y ejemplo para compañeros de profesión, técnicos, aficionados y periodistas y otro de puertas del vestuario hacia dentro que casi nadie conoce, pero que de vez en cuando unos pocos se atreven a desnudar. A las puertas del adiós, en su ocaso deportivo en el Real Madrid, a Raúl le empiezan a sacar ‘cadáveres’ y puede que no sean los últimos.

Raúl es el heredero de una filosofía arcaica que de forma voluntaria aceptó y acató. Raúl mamó lo peor de los que convirtieron los vestuarios y las concentraciones en los sitios menos democráticos del fútbol. Los tan manidos códigos, el misticismo de la caseta y la jerarquía impuesta van perdiendo peso y a Raúl le ha pasado factura, principalmente con la selección. Se dejó cautivar por el poder que le otorgaba el régimen establecido. El capitán del Real Madrid creció bajo el ala de Fernando Hierro tanto en el club como en la selección que le nombró sucesor. En la selección hubo una larga época en la que se instauró una especie de estado de terror que comandaban Zubizarreta primero y Hierro después. Amurallar el vestuario ante cualquier filtración, controlar el grupo y negarle el pan y la sal a los medios, aunque ahora alguno se haya situado y viva a este lado de la trinchera, era el objetivo. Una mirada de Hierro, en los dos sentidos, era suficiente para que cualquier internacional de nueva generación, regresase al redil con la cabeza abajo. Alguno de estos jugadores denunciaban off de record lo mucho que manejaban Hierro y Raúl en la selección. Desvelaban por ejemplo las reuniones nocturnas que se celebraban en la habitación del capitán durante el Mundial de Corea y en las que participaban el propio Hierro, Raúl, Morientes, Carcelén, el segundo de Camacho, y Pedro Chueca, el fisio que impuso Raúl desplazando a Miguel Gutiérrez. En ellas, dicen, que se hacían las alineaciones. La dimisión de Hierro después de Corea dejó a Raúl huérfano en la selección. Sólo Morientes, Michel y Cañizares amparaban al ‘7’. Ya con Luis y la llegada de la nueva generación Raúl se quedó sólo. La imagen en el Mundial de Alemania apartando compañeros para celebrar un gol en el banquillo con Salgado y Cañizares confirmó la llegada de nuevos aires a la selección. Los jóvenes Torres, Sergio Ramos, Iniesta, Cesc, Xavi e incluso Casillas impulsaron otro estilo de convivencia y de relacionarse. Famoso es el mal bautizado motín de Belfast en el que Raúl cavó su tumba intentando imponer a Luis Aragonés una demandas que exponía en nombre del equipo, pero eran suyas.

En el Real Madrid la aparición de los galácticos también cambió el régimen y Raúl perdió peso. Con los brasileños nunca se ha llevado bien y sus amigos se reducían al grupo de Figo, Morientes, Hierro y Míchel Salgado. Este le hacía de nexo con los brasileños, principalmente con Roberto Carlos que ha sido el brasileño con el que más afinidad ha tenido. Ronaldo, Beckham, Zidane, ahora Cristiano… Ninguno de ellos se ciñó a la cadena de mando. No les hacía falta ninguna figura para llegar al entrenador o al presidente.

Florentino tiene claro que la etapa de Raúl en el Real Madrid, la de Guti también, ha concluido. El capitán quiere seguir jugando y puede que lo haga fuera. El contrato vitalicio, si es que realmente existe, habrá que aplazarlo para su regreso a otras estancias del club. Lo peor para el capitán es que se ha abierto la veda para destapar actuaciones, actitudes y errores del pasado. Inmerecido por su trayectoria y sus conquistas, más en el Real Madrid que en la selección. Raúl debería poder terminar esta temporada por lo menos con un respetuoso silencio. Las venganzas llegan tarde.

He has been written off prematurely many times before, but this really does seem like the end of the road for the most influential, enigmatic, contradictory and beautiful British sportsman of modern times.

A ruptured Achilles tendon, sustained during an Italian league match for AC Milan on Sunday evening, will almost certainly rule David Beckham out of the World Cup and looks likely to mark the end of his career as a serious footballer — even if Fabio Capello, the England manager, did leave the door open for the European Championships in 2012 last night.

The midfield player may take some consolation that if his life as a professional player has indeed come to an abrupt halt, it has done so with a remarkable (almost fateful) symmetry. As a 14-year-old boy from East London, Beckham landed a dream opportunity when he was signed by his beloved Manchester United in 1989, making his debut at Old Trafford three years later.

Last week he played what may turn out to be his final game on these shores at his spiritual home, the Theatre of Dreams reverberating to the acclaim of 80,000 fans as their most famous modern son draped himself in gold and green, the original colours of the club and the symbol of opposition to the current ownership regime.

Beckham was playing against, rather than for, Manchester United (representing Milan in the quarter-final of the Champions League) but that did not diminish the outpouring of adulation for a man with a keen sense of history, his face illuminated by the light of a thousand flashbulbs as he made his way down the Old Trafford tunnel.

On any assessment, it has been a remarkable career. He holds the record of 115 outfield appearances for England, captained his nation on 59 occasions, twice reached the quarter-finals of the World Cup, won nine major honours for Manchester United, including six Premier League titles, two FA Cups and one Champions League winner’s medal, and twice finished runner-up in the FIFA World player of the year.

But it is Beckham’s influence beyond the pitch that will engage the army of pop sociologists who will ultimately deconstruct the cultural history of our times. They will note that before Beckham there was an assumption that in order to be a footballer you had to be a real man, and that in order to be a real man you had to be macho, overflowing with testosterone and virulently heterosexual.

Beckham obliterated all of that. It is not just that he likes wearing his wife’s knickers and the odd dash of make-up. It is not just that he has undergone so many personal reinventions that he is a walking tribute to cosmopolitanism. It is not just that he weeps in public and is so palpably in touch with his feminine side.

It is that he openly embraced the affections of the gay community, not least when he posed half naked for the cover of Attitude magazine in 2002. “I am very honoured to have the tag of gay icon,” he proclaimed. “Beckham has made it possible to be a real man and gay,” was the assessment of John Amaechi, the first professional basketball player to come out as a homosexual.

By broadening and softening the contemporary notion of masculinity, Beckham nudged the nation towards a wider vision of inclusiveness: the idea that it is not what you are or what you wear that matters, but what you do. “I always liked to look good, even when I was a little kid,” he once said. “I was given the option when I was a page boy once of either wearing a suit or wearing knickerbockers and long socks and ballet shoes — and I chose the ballet shoes and knickerbockers.”

Sure, he made buckets of cash as he surfed and ultimately redefined our cultural horizons. The synergy with Victoria, his wife and erstwhile Spice Girl, was undoubtedly a powerful factor in the potency of Brand Beckham, a phrase that neatly encapsulates the industry the couple eventually became. On the last Sunday Times Rich List their wealth was estimated at £125 million.

But the defining reality of Beckham as a brand and as a person is not the glitzy superficiality that his critics suggest, but his durability. He triumphed for Manchester United in their 1998-99 treble-winning season after enduring national vilification for his sending-off against Argentina at the World Cup finals; he battled his way back into the first team at Real Madrid after he had been forced to train with the reserves by Capello; and he made a triumphant return for England having been dropped by Steve McClaren in 2006. The move to Los Angeles felt like an acceptance of second-best to football observers, but looked like an act of recompense to many towards a wife who had trailed him to Madrid, where his image was tarnished by an affair with Rebecca Loos.

“I’ve never really had a steady line throughout my career,” is how Beckham put it recently. “It’s always kind of been a rollercoaster. I’ve had more ups than downs, of course, but there have been those moments that have been difficult. I’ve always felt that the best way to respond is to work hard and to play the game. Usually that’s been good enough.”

Beckham is no politician — that is part of his charm — but some of the more sophisticated observers in Westminster will recognise his centrality to the new Labour project. It has become easy to decry Tony Blair but history will doubtless be kinder, pointing to the social legislation — civil partnerships, equalising the age of consent, abolishing Section 28 — that has made the nation more at ease with itself.

Legislation alone, however, can never wholly transform the quality of life for those who live — or merely look — a little different to the majority. Broader attitudes and assumptions matter most, and no cultural icon has done more to shape them, and to soften them, than Beckham.

Matthew Syed

One kick to save the world. How many garage doors bear the scars of such a kick?

This kick to win the match, this kick and they’ll believe the dog ate my homework, this kick to make everything all right, this kick to save my life, this kick and the entire universe will be safe throughout eternity.

Place the ball carefully, like the thing of great value that it is, despite being faded, scuffed, the victim of a million kicks and never the same since the last time the dog joined in.

Stand back. Hear the silence of the crowd. Savour the bated breath of that universe. And then crash, the ball smacks home, leaving a faint muddy scar, joining 100,000 others on the black chipped paint.

Mostly, you let the applause, the relief of the nation, wash over you.

You don’t raise your arms, in case anybody is watching. And then you collect the ball. There will be more desperate ordeals in the future; in the meantime, the world being duly saved, it is time for fish fingers and milk jelly.

There can be very few adult males who have not saved the world in the course of their childhood, and done so with a wild kick and a damaged football. We all know how it feels; and that is why David Beckham and Jonny Wilkinson are so greatly beloved.

This week Beckham snapped his Achilles tendon. He will miss the World Cup this summer. It seems that his career as an England footballer may be over; perhaps his life as a professional footballer has ended.

This same week Wilkinson was dropped as fly half for the England rugby union team. This was partly because of his inaccurate place-kicking. It’s like sacking the Queen for foul and abusive language.

Wilkinson goes to the replacements’ bench, so he may even get on the pitch in England’s last match of the RBS Six Nations Championship against France in Paris tomorrow. He might recover form and play some more great games for England; Wilkinson is not of the giving-up kind.

But it has been a chastening few weeks, a serious personal setback, and it is possible that his time as an England player is finished.

There is a certain symmetry about these events. There is a strange link between Beckham and Wilkinson. They both had one kick to save the world.

Each man’s career can be summed up in a single strike, one instant of contact between boot and ball, one single moment of perfection; perfect connection, perfect strike and perfect result bringing an overwhelming emotional response from the nation they represented.

Beckham was first. It was 2001, the England football team were in disarray, their qualification campaign for the World Cup in crisis. Kevin Keegan, the manager, had resigned in tears. In came the exotic — that’s how he seemed then — Sven-Göran Eriksson.

He retained Beckham as the newly installed captain, England beat Germany 5-1 and as the final round of group matches were played out, all they — we — needed was a draw against Greece at Old Trafford.

But Greece were leading 2-1 after 90 minutes and it had all gone horribly wrong. There was despair in the air and desperation on the pitch. England won yet another free kick and Beckham had yet another crack. Just north of the D, dead centre.

The right-foot curler started middle, swerved drastically just inside the post and a tsunami of emotion engulfed the nation. Beckham was BBC Sports Personality of the Year for 2001.

Two years later it was time for Wilkinson. It was the final of the rugby World Cup in Sydney. England, the dominant side of the tournament, were playing Australia. Bizarre refereeing constantly gave the advantage to Australia. A draw. Extra time. Still tied, 17-17. And still England frustrated, unable to make their superiority tell.

In the last minute, they called the play named “Zigzag”. Matt Dawson’s knifing little dart. Martin Johnson’s crash-ball. Dawson’s swivel-pass to Wilkinson — and then, with an air of sweet inevitability, a languorous, easy, almost lazy swing of the right leg in a moment in which all time ceased, and then the ball was end-over-ending through the uprights and England had won the World Cup. Wilkinson was the BBC Sports Personality for 2003.

One kick for the world. The World Cup, anyway. The rugby union team won it; the football team at least qualified for it; and both times it was a miracle of composure and accuracy, a simple, private skill enacted in the maelstrom of a match with thousands watching and screaming and many millions more in tears on the sofas of old England.

Each man has fulfilled this central childhood fantasy. Each had done for real what the rest of us had dreamt of a million times: saved the world with a single kick. How could these people fail to become specially beloved members of the nation’s most cherished collection of heroes?

It helps that they are both good people. Beckham, for all his nonsense, is proud to be a family man, besotted with his children, genuinely wanting to be a force for good. There is a moral centre to his life and it isn’t money or ambition.

Sure, Beckham was involved in a bit of a kerfuffle when he was lonely in his early days with Real Madrid, but that was soon put right. Beckham shaved his head in contrition — he is a man who best expresses himself in the medium of the haircut.

Wilkinson has a similar moral centre; a man of deep loyalties, team values, a sense of decency so pronounced that it makes him look unworldly.

He became an emblem of persistence and inner strength as he accepted a dreadful series of injuries and worked without let-up for a rehabilitation most normal people thought impossible. The two are antithetical in their off-pitch lives, Beckham needing fuss and fame and attention, Wilkinson craving quietness and privacy.

There is a division, for only one of them won the World Cup. But it is the combination of the fantasy fulfilment and the moral centre that unites them and makes them the best-loved English athletes of the past decade.

We like our sporting heroes not just to be good at sport, but to be good people as well. Although there is no obvious connection between sporting ability and moral worth, we have a deep need to believe that successful athletes are people worthy of admiration on more than one level. Beckham and Wilkinson, Jonny and Becks: both good at kicking a ball to save the world, both thoroughly good eggs as well.

We are more or less willing to canonise the pair of them: St Jonny of the oval ball, St David of the round. Each was responsible for a miracle, or what seemed like one; each was responsible for answering the prayers of a nation in a single Damascene moment that made believers of us all.

Great athletes are not necessarily decent men, but we have a special place for those who are.

Así funciona este "Gran Carnaval". Los que se frotaron las manos vendiendo "humo" en verano, son los mismos que ahora buscan culpables por las esquinas y disparan contra los cadáveres deportivos, apostados en sus trincheras de opinión. Así funciona el negocio del nuevo periodismo deportivo, a caballo entre un sudoku indescifrable y la prensa del corazón. Un periodismo de bufanda, colores y motines de opereta, que alimenta la confusión a pasos agigantados. Al punto de que hay quien confunde el "Marca" con la revista "Hala Madrid" y el "As" con el pravda oficial del equipo madridista. Y así le luce el pelo al mejor club del Siglo XX, el Real Madrid. Un club que ha caído en la desgracia de ser fagocitado hasta el tuétano por el monstruo de propaganda que él mismo ha consentido. Al Madrid le jalean si gana y el crujen cuando pierde. Siempre ha sido así, porque la universalidad del Madrid lo exige, pero nunca se había traspasado el umbral del mal gusto y la permanente falta de respeto, El "favor con favor se paga" ha dado paso a un azote en plaza pública con nombres, apellidos, jucios sumarísimos y un tsunami mediático cainita y revanchista. El equipo merengue malvive en una jaula con barrotes de oro, entre la chapa con autógrafo de Kaká y el edredón oficial de Guti, sometido a un extraño vínculo donde los mismos que le lavan los pies con agua de rosas, le corren a gorrazos. A esta especie de prensa, carnívora por naturaleza - periodista sí come carne de periodista-, el argentino Daniel Alberto Pasarella le tomó la medida cuando bautizó a los fenómenos como "los invictos". Tuvo el dardo en la palabra, porque ese tipo de periodistas nunca pierde. La victoria ajena, la hacen suya. El fracaso de los demás, por descontado, es su triunfo. Ellos, faltaría más, ya habían profetizado el sonido de las trompetas que anunciaban el Apocalipsis. Para los corifeos de la prensa Lewinsky sólo existe una verdad absoluta, la que venda más periódicos y arme más ruido.

Si en verano hay que vender periódicos como rosquillas, prima el periodismo de amistad y se procede a la espiral de reportajes amables para concienciar al personal de que los pedos de un equipo - esta vez el Madrid- huelen a "Barón Dandy". Si hay oposición y escollos en el camino, existen recursos y debates populistas para que la opinión prime sobre los hechos. Y afloran innovaciones contemporáneas, como la del Villarato, copyright de Alfredo Relaño (magnífico periodista poseído por un personaje ficticio), surgido para recortar lectores a la competencia. Cuando no hay árbitros que culpar ni polémicas que encender, llega la hora de la verdad. Y entonces su caballo ganador - en este caso, el Madrid- se cae en el primer obstáculo y se disparan las alarmas. El Madrid, número uno en ventas, se autodestruye sin motivo aparente. Entonces el rodillo gira y lo que eran lametones se vuelven bofetones. Y su apuesta, en esta caso el Real Madrid, en la piel de sus directivos, entrenador y jugadores, resulta azotado sin piedad. De esa guisa, los pesebreros se convierten en inquisidores. Y quien era estrella, ve las estrellas. Entonces, cuando ya es demasiado tarde, caen en la cuenta de que la venta de teorías de la conspiración y artículos forofos es directamente proporcional a la decepción mayúscula que provoca cada derrota del Madrid. Y cuando el Madrid cae en desgracia, llega el descabello. El Madrid queda relegado al papel de preservativo barato. A un simple "usar y tirar". Y se abre un nuevo "modus operandi". Los que escribían con pasamontañas, formaban la cofradía del lametón y relataban conjuras que ni ellos mismos creían, retoman su fervorín y entonan ahora el "sálvese quien pueda", la hecatombe, la catástrofe y el este cuento se acabó.

Juez y también parte, los cofrades de la prensa Lewsinky borran de la faz de la tierra sus loas, chanzas y vítores a la cusa madridista. Y cuando el tren ha descarrilado, se bajan en marcha para salvar esa parte donde la espalda pierde su casto nombre. Es una huída hacia delante. Sálvese quien pueda. Las mujeres y los directores de periódico primero. Nuevo objetivo, "Operación tierra quemada". Una cruzada anti-sistema donde no importan las soluciones, sino los culpables. A falta de héroes, también vende señalar a villanos. Si no hay Gutis que ensalzar ni Ronaldos que loar, siempre viene bien tener Pellegrinis que fusilar y Kakás que ejecutar. Que parezca un accidente. Un resultado, sólo uno, tornado los besos de tornillo en una caza de brujas.

Valdano fue valiente al denunciar que "los tiempos del club no son los del periodismo". Pero la práctica deja en mal lugar el deber ser. Mientras cierto sector de la prensa se ponga el pasamontañas, escriba con bufanda y se marque editoriales judeo-masónicos, el Real Madrid seguirá viviendo en una burbuja, víctima del halago y el peloteo, pero víctima también de la la humillación en el fracaso. A las pruebas conviene remitirse: En una semana, el periodismo Lewinsky ha travestido al mejor Real Madrid de la historia y aspirante a todo, a ser una banda donde existe un culpable de todo, el entrenador. Sólo dos horas después del batacazo europeo del Real Madrid, el antaño prestigioso y sensacional "Marca" dejaba su papel de periódico deportivo y daba paso a una crónica de sucesos. Sólo 24 horas después, "Marca" se ha transformado en la Fiscalía del Estado. A bote pronto, los lectores nos desayunamos con encuestas de encargo, revisadas por alguna mano que mece la cuna y el video-blog. La primera: "¿Qué crack debe fichar Florentino para el año que viene?". La segunda: "¿Qué entrenador ficharía para el Real Madrid para la próxima temporada?". La tercera: "¿A qué jugadores del Real Madrid les daría la baja para el año que viene?". Tres encuestas capaces de hacer vomitar a una cabra, destinadas a hacer sangre. Se ve que el del video-blog no tenía suficiente con la carnicería humana de su portada - dicen que también de encargo pero no me lo quiero creer- dedicada a Pellegrini, que decía: "FUERA. Adiós Champions, adiós Pellegrini".

Allá cada quien con su negocio, su forma de entender el periodismo y por supuesto, son su libertad de expresión. Pero una vez aceptado barco como animal acuático, resulta que la policía no es tonta, que empieza a calar de qué va esta película y que pasar de éxtasis a hecatombe en 24 horas no resulta digerible ni admisible para los que saben leer y escribir. Puestos a ejercer esa libertad de prensa y de expresión, en igualdad de condiciones por supuesto, lo que pide el cuerpo no es mirar hacia otro lado. Me pregunto qué pensaría el director de lo que queda de "Marca" si la web oficial del Real Madrid propusiera estas encuestas: "¿Qué crack debe fichar el "Marca" para ofrecer más calidad a sus lectores?" (Jimmy Giménez Arnau o el doctor Bartolomé Beltrán no valdrían, porque ya ejercen). A esa podría seguir otra: "¿Qué director ficharía usted para el "Marca" el año que viene?". Y podría cerrar la tercera, preguntando al personal algo así como "¿A qué señores del "Marca" les daría usted la baja el año que viene?". En esta, en vez de aparecer los nombres de Drenthe, Higuaín o Raúl, por ejemplo, aparecerían los de Eduardo Inda, Roberto Gómez o Leticia Sabater, por poner otros ejemplos. Por supuesto, la web del Real Madrid debería hacer estas encuestas una vez que su boletín oficial, el que se entrega antes y después de cada partido, le hubiera dedicado la portada del mismo al señor Eduardo Inda - contra el que no tengo nada ni conozco de nada- bajo el titular acusador de "Fuera. Adiós Marca, adiós Inda".

Hasta entonces, seguirá la sangría de despropósitos, golpes bajos, insidias y faltas de respeto. Seguirá la trituradora y empaladora humana para los héroes que, cuando ya no sirven, se convierten en villanos. Seguirá habiendo barra libre para que los corifeos y palmeros. Seguirán elevando a los altares a los mitos para, una vez caídos en desgracia, disparar a su cadáver todavía caliente. Los miembros de la Yihad periodística Lewinsky, en estos tiempos que corren, seguirán campando por sus respetos. Destruirán y elevarán a presidentes. Ficharán o cesarán entrenadores. Renovarán o lapidarán a jugadores. Lo harán porque lo que ellos dicen va a misa. Tienen el poder y la impunidad para anteponer su opinión a los hechos. Tienen el poder que sus empresas les han otorgado y el que los profesionales del fútbol les ha regalado. La receta: agua, barro y basura, crían buena verdura.

Lo mejor es que me he olvidado de las lesiones y de los dolores. Voy madurando cada día más y me encuentro ahora mismo en un momento fenomenal, que espero mantener en lo que queda de Liga y en el Mundial.

Ha sido mi primer gol con esta pierna en la Selección. Aunque ha sido después de que haya rebotado en un defensa, lo importante es que ha entrado. Con el Real Madrid ya había metido uno contra el Deportivo.

Ribéry me ha parecido un magnífico jugador, pero si tengo que elegir para el Madrid entre él y Navas, me quedo con Navas, que es extraordinario.

La virtud principal de España es que desde el primer minuto sale a por el balón y a por la victoria. Tenemos el concepto clarísimo y con ese buen ánimo vamos a ir al Mundial para tratar de hacerlo lo mejor posible. A los jugadores no nos gusta que nos den el papel de favoritos, pero comprendemos que el optimismo vaya en aumento con esta victoria.

Señora Ramos' translation:

It is best that I've forgotten the injuries and pain. I matured more and more and am now in a phenomenal period, which I keep for the remainder of the league and in the World Cup.

It was my first goal with this leg in the National Team. Although it has happened to me before after it has bounced off a defender, the important thing is that it entered. With Real Madrid I did it once against Deportivo.

I found Ribery to be a great player, but if I had to choose between him and Navas at RM, I'd have Navas, who is extraordinary.

The main virtue of Spain is that from the first minute they go after the ball and the victory. We have a very clear concept and good unity and we are going to the World Cup to try to do our best. As players we do not like to be given the role of favorites, but we understand that optimism is increasing with this victory.

Sergio Ramos has revealed he would prefer to see Sevilla winger Jesus Navas join Real Madrid than Franck Ribery.

Madrid and Barcelona have both been strongly linked with a move for Bayern Munich star Ribery, but Navas, 24, has now emerged as a potential summer signing for both sides.

And Ramos, who has played with Navas at Sevilla as well as for the national team, feels the Spanish midfielder would be a better signing.

"He's a top class player who is proving his talent every week," Ramos said in Marca. "He's ready to play in Madrid. He could do great things in our team. If I could choose, I would prefer him to Ribery."

Madrid president Florentino Perez is eager to sign up more Spanish players and 19-year-old Racing Santander midfielder Sergio Canales has already signed an agreement with the club.

Arsenal midfielder Cesc Fabregas feels that Madrid are right to invest in homegrown talent, even if he has limited knowledge of Canales.

"It's good to see a Spanish team spending money on Spanish guys," he said in AS. "I've noticed that [Canales] has scored some nice goals, but I haven't seen him enough to know him really well."