Liking Leo Messi is like liking Picasso, or the Beatles, or puppies: It doesn't really set you apart. Especially not here. If you don't know him, Leo Messi plays soccer for Barcelona and he's really really really really really good. He scored five goals in one game the other day, and lately people have decided he's probably the best ever, or at least up there with the greats that even people who don't care about soccer have heard of, like Pelé and Maradona. He has a big nose and messy hair and a growth disorder and a girlfriend from his hometown in Argentina even though he's lived in Barcelona since the team snatched him up at the age of something like 13. He doesn't talk trash or step on people, and he attributes all of Barcelona's success and most of his own to their coach. He's a UNICEF goodwill ambassador. (Of course if I met him in real life I'd never date him -- he seems to actually be a decent human being, after all -- but I can love him from afar, anyway). And he's only 24.
Barça beat Santander 2-0 last night , with both goals from Messi. I watched the game at an old man bar; there are a lot of them here. I'm not sure I'm entirely welcome in them, but old men are usually nice enough to me. And old men watching soccer say ¡Hostia! (fuck) a lot, even when their team is winning. I like it when old men say ¡Hostia!. At this particular old man bar, by the end of the game one of the old men was singing love songs loudly to no one in particular. And the bartender called me guapa and the old men wished me Buen Proveche, even the ones who were noticeably confused by my presence.
Adoring Leo Messi may not mean that much around here, but I bet I like old man bars a lot more than most people. More than most people who aren't old men, anyway.
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