Kisses don't always have to be long and propagandistic.
The fleeting ones, the ones that happen almost in secret, are the ones that move.
And they bristle the skin.
Joan
Laporta
, trapped in a suit in which the seams demanded even more happiness, kept an eye on Ronald
Koeman
until he finished attending the media in the band.
President and coach knew how to find each other and meet on the La Cartuja track.
They embraced.
Laporta left him nailed a kiss.
And he gave his ear to a coach who the new board always looked at with distrust.
Perhaps Koeman did not even miss that his president ended the night ensuring his continuity. In fact, Laporta avoided it without dissimulation. But the coach, who usually remembers that his contract is valid for one more year, knew he could breathe peacefully. At least he already had the kiss. But mostly reasons. A Cup title in a Barcelona that seemed doomed to live badly in the embers left by
Bartomeu started history
. He managed to regain
Messi's
smile
, exultant lifting his first trophy as captain. He finally offered
De Jong
the canvas his talent demanded. He gave
Griezmann
one last chance
, who survived those demons that also appeared in Seville. And he knew how to be the guardian of all those children who only needed someone who trusted them. "Look at the young people who have ended up playing. This is the future," the coach was proud. The kiss must have appreciated all that.
Nobody at Barcelona forgets that the legend of
Johan Cruyff
on the Barça bench also began in a Cup final in which the Dutchman managed to save his neck. It was in 1990. He beat Real Madrid at the Mestalla and former president
Núñez
had no choice but to return the guillotine to the storage room and let him work. Koeman, who lived through it all as a player, knows well that only success allows survival. Although this is always ephemeral. So he at least did his part of the job. Despite the disappointment of the classic, he relapsed with the 3-5-2. And the result was flawless this time. To the point that Athletic, beyond their depression, found that
Marcelino
He would be unable to find a single footballing argument to combat Barça's superiority in every corner of the field.
Once the goals were piled up in the second half in the midst of De Jong's footballing ecstasy, once Messi began to run and dribble in search of his 35th title as a Barça player, Koeman rested in peace on the bench.
And when the confetti began to fly, the coach had already left the spotlight.
He avoided any prominence and let his work speak for him.
The boys from La Masia were proudly photographed with the Cup. And
Piqué
, with whom the coach took a risk despite the fact that his knee had not stopped hurting all week, was able to celebrate in his own way after completing an impeccable match.
If you had to cut the goal net, there was Piqué.
If journalists had to be sprayed with a bottle of champagne, Piqué was there too.
If you had to end the night of chatting with
Ibai
on the networks, there was also Piqué.
Perhaps it was not for less.
He, Messi and Sergio Busquets reached their seventh Cup title in Seville, thus equaling records from another time such as those of
Gainza
and Belauste I.
Statistical feats aside, Barcelona, who have not celebrated a title in two years, have found a way.
That was what it was all about.
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