From Mancini to Rubiales, silence is golden

Oh what a joy to see us again. I know I’ve become subscriber-only content and, frankly, I’m proud of that — especially because the (de)functional social media illiterate will never, and may, read this column again legally only help it guarantees director of contrasts. However, over the past week I have come to understand something important, which is that we have officially entered the Post-Truth Era.

How else to explain that Maurizio Molinari, the director of republicyou know that little man with the floppy R, no shoulders and the hair of a priest, Maurizio Molinari, who when you see a photo (I hope you don’t see it anyway) says: “Aahh, Sisi, Mama Mia.” ahah”, well, in fact he received an award against Fake News as “Director of a newspaper that respects the value of news and the expectations of its users“. The Republic, that. It would be a bit like giving Nicolò Zaniolo the Nobel Prize in Literature, even worse because Zaniolo already has trouble reading, let alone writing. Which, unfortunately, Molinari actually does.

All this to say what? That every concept expressed here could be true, false, invented or real is not the truth (officially, that of Molinari & friends) which is a criterion. what do we do with the truth Why not prefer the truth?, as that Nietzsche bomber said. And then it is sometimes the truth itself that takes on grotesque, deforming, almost surreal shapes and features. As in the previous week, the cases of Roberto d’Arabia and the consequences of the Rubiales affair were the focus. Situations for which there would have been only one healthy constant: silence. And instead…

Speaking of poor (but very rich) Roberto Mancini for example, witness of everything you can see, face of all faces with his magical smile, the main representative of the fight against drugs in this unfortunate country that fills me with almost human pity for all attacks : Well, I don’t want to join the public pillory reserved for him by 90% of Italians here, but to focus on one thing, the letter he then wrote to “explain himself”.

But why, Robert? One of the most insipid, useless and empty letters I’ve ever read, in which Roby appears to turn to his ex and her friends to defend his reputation and say he hasn’t ventured out to this new destabilizing eighteen-year-old he’s got only found out later, when “there was already a lack of trust and without trust one cannot progress”, in which he also mentions ancient poems, the gods, fake news (he too), in which he indulges in nostalgic-populist rhetoric for what «Football has always been everything to meEver since I was little more than a kid, at thirteen on the dirt fields, always and only to challenge a ball” – So what? Roberto, but at least you write these things yourself or do you also pay someone to do it? Because in the case that I propose for sale and also at a sale price for Arabia, a beacon of civilization and a place of football tradition, where there is so much to choose between technical and human stuff.

Even worse, however, was Rubiales, over whose case we have had to endure a tedious debate, even surpassing that of General Vannacci’s book. Whole days between objections, rejections, versions agreed and then rejected, with a case that became political in the sense that it also brought to debate the politicians of the influencers, these influencers of the politicians (ministers, parliamentarians, even in Spain the former candidates ). for the Prime Minister, still waiting to form a government but busy talking about Rubiales and Jenni Hermoso) and with them the whole of society, now reduced to a gigantic Twitter trend, or rather X – better , more impersonal – where the more idiotic and embarrassing that the more issues there are, the more they monopolize the debate.

As well as writes the Corriere della Sera, “Spain stopped to support them. Hundreds say: “I’m Jenni Hermoso too.” In the stadium stands, on the streets», while Rubiales’ mother locked herself in a convent, threatening day and night a hunger strike in defense of her son and having to take sides across the spectrum (parliamentary and otherwise), from the extreme left to the extreme right. On the other hand, as a dear friend said, Spain is a backward Italy, but I don’t think we’re doing much better now.

But let’s be serious in this case. You can’t just say whoever plays such a role, merry good, He can’t kiss a footballer in the world and behave like that? But what was that horrible scene? It’s disgusting when parents kiss their child on the mouth – why do you do that? – Imagine how he jumps on her, touches her, this sweaty, hairless family man, and then, with his slightly lanky and monkey-like manner, kisses her super passionately and in a “fit of euphoria”. Come on, do you really mean that?

Instead of going into hiding for a while and going to a convent herself instead of his mother, Rubiales preferred to bring up the political persecution, the “social murder” committed against her and the “false feminism” that was a big one Evil represents country” as if he were the leader of Vox and not the Spanish Football Federation. Assuming I value feminists as much as sand in my underwear or as much as a Pep Guardiola press conference, though Dear Luis Rubiales: What the hell are you saying?

It’s not about the “position of dominance”, the “yes and yes only” law that the Spanish Ministry of Equality (sic!) wants, and all the crap that the Fuchsia associations, the Boldrini and the Fratoianni are infecting the world with us. A socialite at this level simply won’t do certain things and won’t say others. Stop, end of the (pathetic) debate. Because certain roles also consist of images, shapes and paths. It would be like a politician waving a piece of mortadella in Parliament. In short, a beautiful tacer was never written, folk wisdom would say. But being discreet would also help. At the very least, Mancini’s election for Saudi Arabia has put his children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren on the bench, and most importantly, there’s no risk of him being framed by civil rights and gender groups in Arabia — after all, you know that maybe this Arabia…

Seriously, necessary to stay alive in the era of truth of Luis Rubiales, Roberto Mancini and Maurizio Molinari is the fact that we are talking about characters that would make you laugh even in a grotesque theater, in an ethic that doesn’t even have to be label better. I wanted to end with a paradox, but they were already too good. A suggestion maybe: Our heroes should have switched roles. Rubiales in Arabia, woe to anyone who tried to say and write anything for an innocent kiss; and Mancini against feminists, so coincidentally, and against the political persecution against him – even the PD mayor of Pesaro Urbino has suggested revoking his role as testimonial of the Marche region. So Molinari, exchanging with Molinari: 0x0 is still zero anyway, we taught each other in elementary school, and truth for truth?