Spicaresque:

A Spanglish blog dedicated to the works, ruminations, and mongrel pyrotechnics of Yago S. Cura, an Argentine-American poet, translator, publisher & futbol cretin. Yago publishes Hinchas de Poesia, an online literary journal, & is the sole proprietor of Hinchas Press.

Friday, July 12, 2024

Ode to Mbappe

Ode to Mbappe by Yago Cura The real question is Mbappe’s new new newer than Zizou’s hawkeye glidetelligence? Does Mbappe’s athletic effervescence cloud CR7’s piston-popping paladinbrand? Is Mbappe more dangerous than Platini’s murderous chip syndicate from just outside the penalty box? If the new new is where we don't look, just beyond where we predilect, is it a space we are capacitated to hold? Mbappe breaks my heart in 2018 by spanking Argentina, but gets his heart broken in 2022 by a stronger, more resolute and plucky Argentine? True, Mbappe’s not the first ingenue thrust onto the cold proscenium of presence–playing for Monaco at the tender age of fourteen–but let us not forget Pontiff Pele scored his first World Cup goal at 17 against Wales in 1958. So, not the first time we've been sold a manifest about the new new in front of the advertisers. Not the last time a safety mask will be worn by an Honorary Ninja Turtle, nor the last time a protective vizard will be employed by a big-speed demon nez. Mbappe is a pace abuser; he will let you set your best pace and demolish your best pace, like he did to Masche ten minutes into the final in 2018, and it was only until Rojo clotheslined him that he was thwarted but Les Blues got their penal with Griezmann, and three bangers more, and earned their second star. As a lifetime hinchas of the Albiceleste, do you know how difficult it is to sing your praises and still be welcome at camp? I would rather praise your prodigious speed and be done with the whole affair. Still, we must concede, Monsieur PSG, Mister 20 Miles per Hour Counter, Mister Monaco FC Kid, Mr Real Madrid Firestarter, Mister Devourer of Space, Monsieur Flying Scissorkick Against Nice. Just because Mbappe is new new doesn't preclude him from losing Mundiales and getting benched by Deschamps–pulled from the penalty squad–just because he’s the captain, but also might be the liability stopping his team from clinching that position. Do you think Maradona would have allowed himself to be benched? Could you imagine Zlatan the Hun saying the country’s victory is greater than his aggregate contributions? It was not pain that kept Mbappe out of the firing squad against Portugal in the Copa this year but knowledge of self, know- ledge of limitation, ego extirpation. I almost like Mbappe more after debacles and ridiculous injuries have seasoned his temperament, downshifted his mojo, but not engaged the brake pads of his mediocrity, not allowed personal hindrance to narrate the trajectory of his billboard-ness. I keep tripping, returning to Paul Simon's chanson, "The Boy in the Bubble," thinking what a curse to be any generation's pearl, a defacto savior spectators only know from the narrowest angle on telezoom lenses. But, maybe the only way up the pop charts is up the pop charts, maybe fielding cracks onto the cold, emerald tarmac and seeing how they taxi is the real Turing Test of the new new? The highest compliment I can concede is that Mbappe was such an existential threat to Argentina's victory in 2022 that giving five more minutes to this motherloving Donatello-looking, snail-eating, Usain Bolt exponent from the outskirts of Paris (Bondy to be exact) would have prevented Argentina from attaining their third star.