Oda al Masche

Maradona says the squad is you plus 10.
In interviews, he amps you up by calling you a pitbull
(he should’ve called you a dogo).

What Maradona’s ig’nant-ass means is that there
are few who will sweat or bleed more
for the Albiceleste than good, old Masche.

Quizas, what Maradona doesn’t have the nuance
to say is imagine how far Argentina might get
with an entire squad of Masches?

For Christ’s sakes, you’re only the second
Argentine in the world with two gold medals!

And, little beast, your slide tackles are guided,
precise strikes, all-in, all-ball, that leave strikers
blubbering indignities to the ref.

Your instep decimates plots, foils chance volleys,
serves to redirect possession, served to bulwark Barça’s
almost impenetrable perimeter.

You bark at the strikers and bark at the lumps
and somehow are always dragging forward the threshold
of a dire future we are about to escape; you’re known
for bringing teams back from their brinks.

Masche, 8 years you built at Barcelona,
3 or so at Liverpool, Corinthians, River Plate
and now, Hebei China Fortune Futbol Club?

Back to Pellegrini, I guess, your trainer at
River Plate, your salad days at the club that
broke you and Tevez off, so you fools might shine.

Sure, you lost some time at West Ham.
You might have developed a mild case of soul cirrhosis.
Guardiola might have molded you into something you don’t like,
a solid, center defender, but people say Masche
and that stands for something, it means something resolute.

Masche stands for slide-tackling Robben’s incursion in 2014,
even if it means tearing your anus; Masche means limping off field to fanfare.

Masche stands for frustrating divas like Ronaldo with a little too much contact
because every cop’s got to have some criminal in her and every criminal has got
to be able to think like a cop.